//------------------------------// // An Angel's choice // Story: Cryo-7 // by Metal Pony Fan //------------------------------// “Why don’t you just kill me already?” The stallion clutched at the knife buried in his shoulder. If it were to move, even a little bit, his environmental suit would lose pressure and he would be at the mercy of the vacuum around him. Not that it mattered at this point. “You damn Celestial! If you plan to abandon me here, on this dead husk, just finish the job.” It turned around. In the deep of space, it couldn’t possibly have heard him, but still, it turned around. Eyes, deep and purple, aglow with magic beyond the natural, met his. Its head shook slowly, as if to refuse his demand. “You can hear me, can’t you? I don’t know how, but you can hear me.” He dragged himself across the fractured metal plating of the ship’s hull. “Tell me!” He screamed at the creature beyond his suit's faceplate. “Why did you do this? Why me?! Haven’t I lost enough to your kind yet?” It walked towards him. Despite the lack of gravity, it moved gracefully, anchored to the hull without a spacesuit or even magnetic shoes. “If you can hear me, you have to have some way to answer me.” He felt a stabbing pain in his shoulder, different from the pain of the steel, but centered on the same spot. When he realized what it was, he ripped the knife away, and did his best to hold pressure on the tear it left behind. The knife, dead cold from exposure to open space, had started freezing his wound. He kept an eye on the suit’s pressure level, but there was no drop, no change. He slowly moved his hoof away from the tear. His own blood had frozen in the cut, sealing it tight. “Pathetic, isn’t it? I must look like a bug to you, struggling to survive even as I’m crushed underhoof.” He looked up. The Celestial was standing over him. “Three times. Three times, I’ve wished I was dead. Three times, I fought and survived. Three times, you’ve taken everything from me. At least have the guts to finish it this time!” It lowered its head, closing its eyes and lining up its horn with the pony’s forehead. “No. Not like that.” He laughed. “At least look me in the eyes when you do it.” The celestial opened its eyes and looked at him without moving its head. “As you wish.” The voice rang in the stallion’s head. It wasn’t the voice that such a monster should have. It was a beautiful voice, clear tone and timbre laying bare the emotions its owner hid. It echoed in the pony’s head as he closed his eyes. And, as light consumed him, he had one final thought. “She gets to live. Why is she so sad?” 92 minutes earlier... Eternity was a breathtaking sight. Faint, twinkling stars littered the arms of the Horsehead nebula. Their light shone clean and unbridled through light-years of void, only to be obscured by the hazy reds and blues of nebular dust. Here and there, giant, glowing clusters of gas dotted the stellar clouds. They weren’t quite stars, but they burned bright all the same. They burned before there were any to witness their splendor, and they would most likely to continue to burn long after any spectators joined the swirling dust of the cosmic wastes. It was a sight Astral Plane had seen many times, but it was one that he would never tire of. With a loud sigh, he ran a grey-coated hoof through his mane, forcing the unkempt, night-blue locks back into place. As much as he liked to gaze at eternity through the viewport, there were other things that demanded his attention. He looked down, turning his attention to the rest of the bridge. The view here was as ugly as the previous one was beautiful. Drab, dusty controls were splayed out like the pieces on a Karno grid, spreading across a bank of consoles designed for a crew of at least three. There was only crew member here, though. Astral had lived on ships like this for most of his life. He had years of experience to draw on, and, being a unicorn, magic, for the times when even that experience fell short. In all his years, he had never run into a problem he couldn’t solve on his own. He leaned back in his chair and exhaled slowly. A curling wisp of vapor marked his warm breath as it mingled with the cabin’s glacial air. That was the next problem he would solve. He fought back a shiver and pulled the collar of his jacket tight. Well, it wasn't so much a problem, but an inconvenience. According to diagnostics, the comfort chip was broken. The ship’s life support systems were functioning properly, keeping the ship’s environment in that tenuous band of temperature between hot-death and cold-death. But the small piece that allowed fine tuning of the ship’s environmental conditions was dead, and its optional back-up, MIA. There were several redundant processes making sure that the ship’s occupants stayed alive; so many, that the ship would have to be torn in two to stop them all. And, for all these redundancies, the comfort chip was considered a luxury. Without it, the ship's temperature could be anything between three and thirty degrees Celsius, hardly comfortable, but livable. As such, it would have to wait a while. The pony steeled himself and hopped out of his chair, wincing as his hooves came into contact with the frigid deck plating. “Computer?” The gentle whirr of machinery was his only answer. He sighed again, hanging his head in frustration. He really thought he had that fixed. “Philomena?” A series of chirps and beeps preceded a poorly synthesized female voice, “Functioning, please input command or inquiry.” “Give me the estimated time of completion for calculation check delta.” He glanced at the tiny speakers tucked along the corners of the ceiling. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t reset the ship’s computer. Again, not a problem, an inconvenience. One of the previous owners had given it a name, and programmed it not to respond to anything else. He waited a moment before hanging his head again. Unfortunately, the name wasn’t the only quirk programmed into it. “Please?” Another set of chirps. “Completion in seventeen seconds.” You had to be polite in order for it to listen. “Thank you,” he replied with a sarcastic sneer. If he had known about the computer before leaving the shipyard, he would have haggled with the dealer a bit longer. But, now that he was in space again, he was determined to make the best of his first voyage on the Philomena. He wasn’t going to get bent out of shape over swapping pleasantries with a low-capacity A.I. He walked over to the last console on the right. It was the engineering station, linked directly to the ship's engines and a set of similar consoles in the drive bay. Dimly lit dials flickered, keeping an even rhythm with the pulsing hum of the ship’s main drive. Once the calculation check finished, he would either kick the engines into gear, or he would need to shut them down. It all depended on whether his math was right. As the last few seconds of the check ticked away, he idly wished he knew more about how slipstream engines worked. He knew everything there was to know about keeping the engines running, and about slipstream generation, but how a ship traveled once it entered the slipstream was a mystery to him. He knew it was based off a specific series of equations regarding engine output, and you’d be hard-pressed to find somepony that couldn’t follow the steps to solve them, but being able to follow a recipe doesn’t mean you know what baking powder does. A warbling sound from the speakers broke the unicorn from his thoughts. It was followed by Philomena’s familiar, synthetic voice. “Slipstream calculation check completed. Slipstream jump from current location to Canterlot system confirmed. Calculations will remain valid for seven-point-two-nine-three hours at current engine error exacta.” “Seven hours of play? I don’t think we’ll need that much.” Astral smiled to himself as he leaned a hoof onto a lever and held it there. Whatever complaints he had about the computer, he had none about the engines. The ship-dealer was able to confirm that the ship had a history spanning at least a hundred standard years, but its engines had as much kick as anything manufactured today. “They just don’t make them like they used to. What’s our current triple-e?” A grating buzz issued from Philomena’s speakers. “Please re-state request, units not recognized.” The pony shook his head. He had a lot of complaints about the computer. “What is our current engine error exacta?” “One-point-four percent,” came the immediate reply, “engine maintenance check reveals that a proton flow-channel alignment would result in an engine error exacta of zero-point-nine percent.” Astral laughed. “It’s on my list Philomena, right after a comfort chip.” With his magic, he flipped a switch on his chair’s command panel. Almost immediately the hum of the ships engine rose to a whine. “But first, we’ve got to get our shipment of apples to Canter Station Delta, and get our money.” He released the lever and the stars outside the viewport seemed to twist in on themselves. The nebula became a shifting pool of light and energy that swirled around the ship before going black. Beep. Beep. Beep. “Slipstream generation successful. Estimated time until system arrival, zero-point-five-six hours.” “Thirty minutes?” Astral Plane got back in his chair. “You were quite a bargain, Philomena. That time’s on par with a commercial cruiser.” After a few moments of silence, the pony chuckled. “That was a compliment, you know.” Chirp. Beep. “Thank you.” Astral smiled. Maybe Philomena wouldn’t be so bad after all. Now, there was nothing left to do but wait. He looked down at the canvas sack he had tied to the side of the chair. It wasn't a large bag, only big enough to toss over a shoulder, but he had it stuffed nearly to bursting. Its threads were strained at the sides, showing the angles and creases of its contents trying to poke their corners to freedom. He took one item out of the bag. It was a book, sort of like the ones used for drawing or note-taking, but with information already filled in. Books like these were a historical oddity, and were becoming increasingly rare. Astral could still have anything he wanted made into a printout, but something about these old books just drew him in. He owned hundreds, if not thousands, of them and, until recently, a small portion of every job’s pay went to acquiring more. He kept the best books in a deposit vault. Anything with value, either to collectors or historians, was nestled safely in the Bank of Canterlot, with strict instructions on what to do if… well, space travel can only be so safe. The books he had with him were ones that were relatively common, the type that can be found at thrift shops or flea markets. He looked over the book he had chosen. Interestingly, it was one that he had found tucked away on the Philomena. The cover was worn, but the words, “Daring-Doo,” were still legible on the spine. He had found it hidden behind some water pipes in the residential cabin, down the hall from the cargo bays. The book had probably belonged to one of the ship’s previous owners. He opened the book and started reading. The Daring Do series—it seemed to be spelled two different ways interchangeably—was familiar to the unicorn. He had a few of the books, and would find new ones every so often, usually out of order. For most stories, that didn’t matter, but Daring-Doo was one of those series that regularly referenced events from previous installments. It was rather annoying to find one of those, read it, and realize that the volume it referenced may not exist anymore. But, there was no use thinking about searching for books now. Until he finished a few cargo runs, and made some money, he wasn’t going to be doing much of anything else. The purchase of the Philomena had eaten through nearly all of his monetary assets, and a good chunk of the physical assets he’d kept in storage on Manehatten and Hoofton. Aside from the bits he carried with him, all he had to his name were his books and a few supply caches. He needed to start rebuilding his funds as quickly as possible. Which was exactly what he was doing now. He had been lucky to find a job before leaving Hoofton. It was a simple mission, transport cargo from Laguna Madre, planet Hoofton's smallest moon, to Canter Station Delta. It was pedestrian cargo too, if slightly time-sensitive. A harvest of apples bound for some fancy restaurant. Hardly exciting, but Astral didn’t mind in the slightest. He’d had his share of commotion already, and this mission was exactly what he needed. Besides, the Philomena didn’t have combat capabilities. It was a situation he planned to rectify before leaving Canterlot, but escort missions, scouting, and asteroid prospecting were out of the question until then. It was too bad, because those jobs all paid more than cargo runs. Astral yawned widely. “Compu- Philomena,” he corrected himself, “how long until we reach Canterlot?” Beep. Chirp. “Twelve seconds.” The pony clicked his tongue. “So close.” He marked his page with a snippet of tinned wire from the collar of his jacket and stood up, setting his book on the chair behind him. Swirling pinpricks of light appeared through the view port as the Philomena left the slipstream, and they quickly settled into a wide, homogenous starfield. “Philomena, chart a course for navigation buoy designation c-s-delta, and proceed on auto-pilot.” Astral stared out the viewport for a moment. Nothing happened. “Please?” Beep. “Charting course. Preparing for intra-system travel.” The engine’s hum slowly changed pitch, becoming a deep throbbing noise as the pulse engines took over from the slipstream drive. “Engaging autopilot.” Thrusters fired, and the ship turned. Through the viewport, Astral could see one star come into view that was much larger, no, closer, than the rest. “Estimated time to course completion, four-point-three-four hours.” The viewport automatically dimmed the star's light to a level that would be safe for prolonged viewing. The rest of the view remained untouched, and he could see the pinprick light of planets in the distance. Much closer to his ship, the dead rocks of the Caspion belt ringed the entire system. Those rocks grew larger in the viewport as the ship moved towards the center of the system. In the Caspion belt, several small planetoids stood out from the rest of the rocks. They were much larger than any of the other asteroids, and a few of them had even been turned into space stations. The others were merely used as navigational way-points. The largest, and deadest of those planetoids, Caspion VII, was off to port. He would be passing it in a minute or two. That particular rock marked the edge of the system. It was the farther out from the system’s sun than any other natural object in the system, just a desolate rock in the middle of nowhere. Beep. Beep. Beep. “Proximity warning. Ship detected.” “Where?” Astral walked over to the navigation console. Two large screens gave a graphic representation of the ship and the space around it. One showed a view from above, the other from the side. The green outline of Caspion VII filled a large portion of either screen, and two small dots, representing ships appeared on either side of it. One dot was purple, and marked the Philomena’s location. The other, blood red and flashing, had to have been the other ship. It was on the other side of the planetoid, and moving away from him. “It’s probably just another freighter. Identify the ship.” Chirp. “Not possible. Identification transponder is offline.” “Scan for weapons!” Astral ran to the engine panel. There were only two reasons to turn off a ship’s transponder. One was if you were parked on a planet, or station, and completely powered down. The other was if you were doing something illegal, and you didn’t want anyone to know who you were. Beep. “Scan complete. Extensive weaponry and defensive capabilities detected. Ship designated as possible hostile.” “Modify our course to avoid the ship, and route main navigation display to overhead monitor.” Astral ramped the engines to their maximum output levels. Then, he looked up. Above the viewport, a holographic display flickered to life. “Please be smugglers. Please be smugglers.” The red ship veered from its course. It shot around the planetoid and headed straight for the Philomena. The Philomena’s autopilot changed course in response, switching to vector directly away from the other ship. "Raiders. Of course." Astral watched the display carefully. The Philomena’s engines were a match for any ship, but that didn’t mean he was safe. Slowly, the distance between the two ships started to grow. His was the faster ship, but just barely. “Philomena, is it possible to chart a course to any navigation buoy with an ‘inhabited’ sub-code while still evading that ship? If so, how long will that course take to complete?” Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. “Requested course is possible, and will take approximately fourteen hours to complete.” “It’s better than nothing,” he growled. “Philomena prepare to-“ Chirp. “Warning, missiles detected.” Astral’s eyes shot to the overhead display. Two blinking red dots sped from the other ship. They were much faster than the hostile ship, and would catch up to the Philomena in a matter of seconds. “All engine power to shields!” A blue ring appeared around the Philomena’s icon, and the engine’s hum quieted. The red indicators on the display seemed to speed up, continuing to accelerate as the Philomena coasted on momentum. Astral braced himself against the console just as the missile indicators hit the shield ring. Nothing happened. The expected explosion didn’t occur. There were no warning klaxons, no automated damage reports, nothing. There was no sign that anything had happened. Then, the viewport started to glow blue. Electricity crackled along the bubble of the shield, surrounding the Philomena in a glowing veil. Beep. “Ionizing radiation detected. At current levels, lethal exposure will occur in four-point-seven-two minutes. Use of protective equipment recommended. Additional electromagnetic activity detected. Active electronics may be damaged.” Astral ran for the row of lockers at the back of the bridge. He used his magic to fling open the doors, releasing their contents to spill out onto the floors below. “Disengage all non-essential systems, switch all remaining systems to manual controls, and engage mechanical overrides for navigational and engineering subsystems.” All but two of the lockers contained food or survival equipment, completely useless in this situation. One of the lockers was devoted to medical supplies, and he dug into that one. After seconds of searching, he found several foil pouches of radiation medication. They ranged from old standbys like Prussian blue and dtpa, to modern powerhouses like Kyrocaine and Zytaphil. He ripped open one of each and downed them all at once. The last locker held only one item. It held a dark brown hazardous-duty spacesuit. Astral put it on as quickly as he could. It was common sense to keep a spacesuit on a spaceship, but Astral always made sure he had one of these particular suits. It was built to be used around damaged engines, so it was designed to provide radiation shielding. It also had one other important feature, one that was about to become very important. It was heavily armored, as well armored as military-grade suits designed specifically for combat. Before sealing the suit, Astral reached into his jacket and pulled out two things. He slid both objects into a specially made holster on the spacesuit’s left shoulder. One was a large fixed-blade knife, and the other was a pistol. It wasn’t a sleek pulse gun, or a bulky plasma blaster, but a simple gun, a weapon of steel, powder, and lead. In terms of technology, this gun was about as advanced as the knife it shared a holster with. It didn’t even fit the pony’s hoof, having been made for a race with claws, or some similar appendage. Still, it was the weapon the pony chose to carry, the one he trusted his life to time and again. Astral ran to his chair. His gun had never let him down. The fact that he was still alive was proof of that. Still, he wanted to avoid using it at all costs. He knocked the unfinished book to the deck before climbing into his chair. From his perch, he could see every important display, and use his magic to manipulate any switch, lever, or knob on any of the consoles. “Philomena, can you hear me?” There was no response. Astral cursed under his breath. The interference was either messing with the suit’s com-link – not likely considering the suit’s original purpose – or the computer had to shut down to avoid being damaged. The flickering of the main holographic display lent itself to the latter explanation. It was probably a matter of seconds before that shut down as well. The unicorn pushed the throttle as far as it would go. That meant lowering the shields, but as long as he still had the sensors, he would be able to detect another missile in time to react. The Philomena shuddered violently. The sudden turbulence threw Astral from his chair as the engineering panel erupted into showers of sparks and fried electronics. On his back amidst the rubble, the unicorn could see the holographic display above him. For a moment, the words, “Hull breach,” were visible in bright blue letters. Then the display fizzled out. "No, no, no!" The pony rolled to his hooves and checked the navigation console. The engines were still running at max thrust, and the hostile ship was still visible on the flickering flatscreen, but the display showed that the enemy ship and the Philomena were running circles around each other. Astral slammed his hoof against the console. They had harpooned him. He ran off the bridge, and into the corridors leading into the guts of the ship. Lodged somewhere in the Philomena’s hull was a cable connecting the two ships. He had to disconnect it. If he didn’t, the stress of playing fish on a hook could tear a hole in the Philomena that he wouldn’t be able to fix, and that was the best case scenario. Worst case, the engine decides it’s had enough, ruptures, and gives birth to a new star. Astral followed the twists and turns of the corridors to the drive bay. The philomena was a large ship, larger than most civilian vessels, and the trip took much longer than he he had wanted. He would have to hurry. His first priority was to get the engines shut down. He ran through the drive bay without stopping, and flung open the reinforced side doors to the control room. He flung them shut just as quickly. In the short moment they were open, he saw bright green coolant raining from ruptured pipes, twisted metal littering the floor, and one wall open to space. He also saw something standing in the middle of it all. He didn't get a good look at it, but it was alive, angry-looking, and ugly as hell. He took a breath to steady himself. Whatever it was, it was standing between him and saving his ship. He drew his weapons, letting them hover beside him in the grip of his magic. He then threw the doors open with enough force to kick up a spray of coolant. Through the toxic-colored slime, he could see the creature ahead of him. It was a prill, a common creature, usually kept as a pet. This one was a vile monster, all teeth and radiation burns. It stood taller than he did on its three tripod-toed legs, and what little fur remained on its oozing skin bristled as it snarled at the pony. This was not a pet, this was someone’s twisted idea of security system. Astral fired. A single bullet from his pistol buried itself in the creature’s forehead, right between the eye-stalks. The creature let out a terrible shriek, but didn’t fall. The prill charged at its attacker,and Astral charged right back. He fired two more shots, each one removing one of the creature’s eyes from its stalk. The monster continued its rush in blind rage. Astral leapt out of the way and launched his knife into the creature’s side. The molecularly sharpened blade barely penetrated the thing’s mutated hide, and wedged itself several centimeters short of the prill’s heart. “Damn! What are you made of?” Astral shot the creature three more times, putting bullets down its throat as it shrieked at him. The extra lead barely slowed the creature down. It lunged for the pony again, forcing him to dive out of the way. “I don’t have time for this!” Astral yanked his knife free of the monster’s ribcage. He found a warped chunk of sheet metal, probably the remains of the wall, and stabbed his knife through it. When the monster pounced again, the pony held up the metal like a shield, with the knife pointing out. The prill crashed into Astral, knocking the pony to the ground and breaking his concentration. The magically suspended pistol fell to the coolant soaked floor. The beast lurched forward. The metal plating pinned to its chest kept it from directly attacking the pony, but it knocked the fallen weapon out of Astral’s sight. The pony beat the creature back with his hooves, striking the butt of the knife and driving it deeper into skin and bone. After several strikes, the creature reared back, howling in pain. Astral dove for the nearest intact console. He furiously worked the controls, trying to make something happen that everything on the ship was designed to prevent. Behind him, the creature freed the blade from its chest. The monster leapt at Astral just as he completed his task. The Philomena’s artificial gravity turned off, and the monster slammed into a bulkhead before floating harmlessly about the room. Astral started to drift off the floor before the electromagnets in his suit kicked on and pulled him to the floor. As the monster above twisted and snarled at him from a safe distance, Astral took a moment to close his eyes and overcome the jarring nausea of instant weight loss. When he opened his eyes, he turned his eyes towards the hole in the bulkhead. An emergency force field kept the atmosphere in, but it wouldn’t do much to deter intruders. He set about shutting down the engines, but thought about his next course of action. No matter what happened now, there were only going to be more intruders. He looked up at the flailing prill. He didn’t want to have to fight another one of those. He inspected the rubble littering the room. Most of it was visually similar to the construction of the Philomena, and probably came from within her walls, but there were fragments that didn’t seem to match up. They probably came from whatever made that hole in his ship. There was no sign of a cable, or anything that could function as a hook, or harpoon, so that only left one explanation. There was some sort of pod or vehicle that carried the prill, something designed for a one way trip. There were probably more of them. Probably launched at the same time as the harpoon. Who knew how many of those things were now roaming the Philomena’s corridors? Who knew how many pods had missed their mark, and were now tumbling through the dead of space? He looked back up at the prill. “I’m sorry about this, but blame your master.” He opened a panel at the panel’s base and yanked several wires free. He then hit a button on the console’s top. Throughout the ship, airlocks opened, and life support systems turned off, including the emergency backups. Atmosphere and loose debris exploded out of small room, no longer confined by the thin emergency force-field. Astral’s suit kept him firmly rooted, and with grim determination, he watched the debris fly past. Among the twisted metal, he saw the two shapes he was looking for and grabbed them with his magic. He had his weapons back. He left the engineering compartment and doubled back towards the bridge. His destination was the main cargo bay, situated immediately behind the command center. He stuck to the smaller service corridors and maintenance tunnels in order to avoid any intruders. At one point, he found another pod. It was intact, and wedged in a crawlspace along the outer hull, blocking his path. He approached it slowly, weapons at the ready, but its occupant was already dead. Whether it was from the crash, or from the decompression, Astral couldn’t tell. With a bit of shoving, he was able to free the pod from the damaged hull and force it back into space. Through the wound it left behind, he could see the other ship and the cable connecting it to the Philomena. “Shoot!” Astral had assumed the ships were connected by a simple cable, but this looked like a docking tube, a flexible construct designed to connect two ships and allow for the transfer of goods and personnel. If that was the case, the marauders weren’t dependent on pods and shuttles, and could simply invade his ship at any time. “I’ll have to hurry.” The unicorn doubled his pace for the cargo bay. He had to keep whoever was attacking him from getting to his cargo. One hard-earned lesson that Astral learned was that the moment marauders think a ship is worthless is the moment they try blow it out of the sky. The cargo that the Philomena was hauling was so worthless to anypony but its intended recipient that Astral would have to make sure it stayed secret in order to stay alive. The maintenance crawlway ended at a ventilation station. He was close to the cargo bay. There was a heavy grate that would lead him back into the corridors, but he couldn’t see what lay beyond. “No time to hesitate, I guess.” Gravity and life support were still down, so any remaining intruders would have to be in protective gear. He could only pray that would slow them down enough. In his helmet, he bit down on a small control patch. Through it, he could take control the suit’s functions. There weren’t many on a suit this old, but he was only interested in the magnetic coils under his hooves. He switched the magnets from automatic control to negative bite pressure and lightened his grip on the sensor. All he would have to do now was bite down on the sensor, and the magnetic field would disappear. He undid the latches on the grate and climbed onto the wall across from it. Without gravity, the grate now seemed to be directly above him. He crouched low and drew his gun. He then bit down on the control sensor as he kicked off the wall. The gate tumbled into the corridor, and he followed close behind. Astral spat out the control sensor as he spun through the vacuum. With the pressure removed, the suit’s magnetic coils engaged. The unicorn stuck to the first surface he hit, the wall across from the grate. Astral regained his bearing and quickly surveyed the hallway. Nearby, a single, pony-shaped figure in a cheap, yellow hazard suit stood before a large, reinforced door. It was facing away from Astral, and didn’t seem to notice his sudden entrance. By Astral’s perspective, the other pony was above him, even if the other pony was on this deck’s floor. Astral grabbed the free-floating grate and nudged it towards the suited figure. He started walking across the ceiling at the same time. If he timed it right, the grate would bump against the other pony’s hooves, making him look down as Astral passed above. The metal mesh tapped the pony’s leg. The yellow suit spun around, and lifted a hoof clad in some sort of electronic housing. The hoof lashed out at the grate, unleashing the characteristic energy blast of a plasma weapon. The broiling energy consumed the grate and burned through the deck, leaving a hole edged by glowing metal. The molten alloy left in the blast’s wake cooled and hardened into an aimless rain of silver spheres. They bounced off walls, floors, and ceilings, filling the corridor. The suited pony immediately looked up, straight at Astral. Its weapon-clad hoof lifted towards the unicorn. Astral brought his own weapon to bear. Astral stood there blinking. Darkness. He looked left and right. Blurry shapes floated in the darkness, but they were hard to make out. The pony faintly remembered a flash, but he had the feeling he was forgetting something, something important. “What was I doing?” He muttered A yellow shape drifted into view, snapping the unicorn back. He ducked, and aimed at the shape, only to find he no longer held his gun. Cursing, he drew its bladed counterpart. He shook his head, but instead of clearing his vision, he only felt a searing pain behind his eyes, and a drumming sound from his ears. If there had been gravity, the unicorn would have collapsed. Instead, he swayed slightly, with only the suit’s magnetic tethering keeping him grounded. As the pain faded, Astral’s vision slowly returned. His pistol spun slowly nearby, and he quickly retrieved it. The yellow suited figure stood like he did, motionless, most likely at the mercy of his suit’s built in magnetics. Not that it mattered to him anymore. He was dead. Had to be, globules of red liquid leaked from a hole in the suit’s neck. Blood, no doubt. Astral brought a hoof to his own neck as his memories came back. Two ponies, two weapons, the desire to kill, and the desire to live. It wasn’t all there though. The unicorn was still alive, so he obviously fired first, but why did his head hurt so badly? And why was he blinded? The powder flash from his pistol shouldn't have been bright enough for that. He stretched his neck inside the suit, moving his head around the helmet. He felt something touch him behind the ear, something hard, round, and definitely out of place. He brought his to the back of his head, clumsily feeling his helmet for damage. He found what seemed like a small dent. Did he get hit from behind? Astral looked back. There was a blackened crater behind him, the obvious remains of a plasma blast. He was on the ceiling of the Philomena's top deck, and the center of the crater opened to the stars beyond. Astral rubbed his helmet again. He must have gotten hit by debris from the blast. A concussion would be bad, but at least the suit was intact and he was conscious. The unicorn turned away from the hole. Just as he was about to continue towards the cargo bay, his eyes locked on the blacked-out visor of the yellow suit. A hundred different images flashed through the unicorn’s mind, pains and memories of a life fought to live. Two of those images stayed in front of the rest. Bloodshot eyes staring through him as life trickled through a hole between them, and another pair of eyes drifting closed as a blade ran red. Astral vomited in his suit. Suction pumps automatically kicked in, pulling in the sudden regurgitation and venting it before the pony could asphyxiate. The scent hung in the suit though. Bits of vomit stuck to Astral's fur, around his mouth, and he had to spit out the last of it that stuck in his teeth. Breathing heavily, Astral looked at the yellow suit's visor again, almost as if to prove that he could. He started walking towards the cargo bay, each step heavy in the wrong way as he pulled his magnetic shoes off the bulkhead. If there gravity to hold him, he would have fallen to his knees. He felt weak, and he wasn't sure it was all from the head wound. As he opened the cargo bay door, he spared the yellow suit one final glance. "Why is it always the eyes?" He asked himself. He leaned against the open doorway for a moment, shaking his head to clear out thoughts he would never be rid of. He glanced back one more time before walking into the cargo bay. As he shut the door behind him, he felt glad that he hadn't had to see the other pony's eyes, but he also felt an odd sense of guilt for that relief. He stared at the door and sighed. "That visor's going to haunt me." At that moment, the door slid open, and Astral found himself staring at the same blacked-out visor. The plasma blaster was held out in front of it, and blobs of red still leaked from the yellow suit's neck. The other pony adjusted its position slightly, aiming its weapon squarely at Astral's head. The unicorn ducked, pulling himself to the ground as the plasma blaster let loose its angry green bolt. He could feel the static on his fur as the highly charged pulse traveled past him, close enough to set off the temperature alarms in his suit. It slammed into the far end of the cargo bay, missing the large crates littering the floor and punching a hole through an auxiliary airlock. Astral jumped to the side as another blast was fired at him, leaving another hole, this time in the floor. "Why the hell aren't you dead?" The unicorn yelled as he fired two shots at that cursed visor. The first hit dead center, cracking the blackened plate as it went straight through. The second bullet hit off center, tearing away part of the cheap suit's helmet and answering Astral's question. The glint of metal showed where fur should have been, and the faint, red glow of an optical processor shone through the cracks in the ruined faceplate. It wasn't a pony in the yellow suit, but a construction drone. The red fluid leaking from its neck was hydraulic fluid, not blood. For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, Astral cursed under his breath. He had gotten in a lucky shot and nicked a hydraulic line, temporarily disabling the drone until the backup servos kicked in. He walked backwards as he started shooting at the drone, focusing his fire on the energy weapon on the drone's right hoof. The first nine shots had no visible effect on the weapon itself, only tearing away at the suit and stabilizing frame around it, but as the drone lifted the plasma blaster, shot number ten hit the weapon straight on the emitter casing, splitting it in two and rupturing the power cell beneath. The plasma blaster exploded in a shower of light blue sparks and battery acid. Astral was far enough away from the drone not to get covered in the corrosive fluid, not that it would damage his suit, but the drone was covered with enough of it for it to start eating away at the cheap yellow hydroplastics of its own suit. As yellow smoked away, giving way to bronze-colored alloy, the drone performed a uniquely un-drone-like gesture. It shook the hoof that once held the plasma weapon like a pony reacting to a nizador sting. "Oh, I've got you now." Astral holstered his pistol. He only had two shots left, and without its main hydraulics, a construction drone was only as strong as an average pony, and half as fast. And this particular drone was being controlled via neural interface. There was somepony, somewhere, controlling this thing, and he or she got a nasty shock when the plasma blaster overloaded. An even stronger shock could shut down the interface completely. Knife at the ready, Astral charged the drone. Before its operator could react, he slashed through the drone's optical processors, destroying the visual feed back to the operator. They would have to rely on sensor readouts to navigate now, and that would slow down all but the most experienced drone operators. Not content with just that, Astral spun around and bucked the drone hard enough to break its magnetic connection to the deck, sending it tumbling through the cargo bay. Now that he had bought some time, Astral sheathed his blade and set off in search of something to permanently take out the drone. The cut through the drone's face felt sluggish to the unicorn, after all the abuse, his knife's edge was starting to dull. He would have to be careful how he used it from now on. He was no good at combat magic, so he needed something else to use as a weapon, and somewhere among the metal crates of the cargo bay was just the thing he was looking for. He headed for the far wall through the maze of crates. Somewhere near the main airlock, there should be some cargo loading equipment. It was the first half of Astral's pay for the cargo run. Since the Philomena hadn't come with many frills, he had to purchase the tools to complete the job after taking the job. When astral reached the rear wall of the cargo bay, he found himself staring at a black wall of space. He couldn't see it earlier because the crates were in the way, but the main airlock was open. It must have been on the same circuit as the other airlocks, the circuit he fried when he shut down life support. Anything nearby that wasn't tethered to the deck was most likely pulled into space during decompression, and that included nearly all of his cargo equipment, everything from the grav-field forklift to the plain old ropes and chains was gone. The only thing left was a long, thin chromed box tied to a handrail with a piece of titanium ribbon he had been playing around with. He opened the box and gave it a little tap, causing its contents to slowly float into the cargo bay. Most of it was useless at the moment, pulleys, chain hooks, more titanium ribbon, and the like, things that could be used to make traps if he had one more ingredient. But that ingredient was time, something he didn't have much of. For now, he would have to rely on something more immediate, and there were two of them in the box. They were dark blue electronic devices, the same color as the now missing forklift, with a safety toggles on their bulky, misshapen handles, and three metal prongs extending several centimeters from one end. Movement in the box's reflection caught the pony's eye, and he turned around, grabbing one of the the two devices as he moved. He launched it at the drone as it rounded a corner, flipping the safety switch with his magic as it flew through the vacuum. There was a single, bright spark between the device's prongs as it came into contact with the drone's metal frame, discharging five hours worth of power for the now missing forklift. The drone stopped moving. Forget disabling the interface, enough power ran through the drone to weld its metal hooves to the deck plating. Every circuit, servo, or piece of wire in the thing's mechanical body was now cooked beyond repair. Astral grabbed the second forklift charger, and was about to head back to the cargo bay's main door when a purple Pegasus mare walked out from between two boxes. She seemed to be inspecting the cargo crates, and was followed by three more yellow hazard suits wearing plasma blasters. For a moment, Astral assumed she was their leader. Then one of the suited drones raised its right hoof, aiming its weapon at the back of the mare's head. "Watch out!" Astral flung his last charger at the drone and ran towards the mare. The charger's prongs punctured the hazard suit, causing a small spurt of flame as the small amount of escaping air was ignited by the intense discharge and quickly burned away. The other two drones reacted quickly, raising their weapons, but they seemed unsure of their target, trying to decide whether to shoot Astral, or the unarmed Pegasus mare. Astral tackled the mare as they made up their minds. A familiar static sensation accompanied the suit's temperature alarm as the bolt of superheated plasma flew past him and out the open airlock. Then, Astral's blood ran cold. He looked down at the mare he had saved as they floated through the cargo bay. She looked up at him, purple eyes filled with anger, and two-toned purple-pink mane floating free. In the irradiated vacuum that filled the ship, she wore nothing but her natural colors. They bumped into a wall, and inertia pulled her mane back, revealing the horn it hid, a horn that quickly lit up with magic as purple as its owner. Astral tried to push himself away from the mare, but she grabbed him by a utility hoop on the front of his suit. He looked down as a glowing, blue ball of energy formed in front of him, attached to the chest of his suit. It took less than a second, and once it was formed, the mare pushed him back and dove out of the way. The blue sphere exploded, creating a shockwave of the same color. It kicked Astral back into one of the crates with enough force to rip it free of its moorings. Astral's vision blurred as he flailed about, struggling to find purchase with his magnetic shoes. He bounced off another shipping crate, its aluminum surface offering no grip, and found himself floating towards open space. Panic started to set in. If he didn't find something to grab onto, he would end up floating through space until his suit's power failed. He came close to another cargo container, and kicked at it as hard as he could. He wasn't able to stick to it, but he was able to divert himself towards the edge of the airlock, instead of straight out the middle of it. A plasma blast hit the crate Astral pushed away from, superheating the produce inside and causing it to erupt in a blast of steam, pulp, and twisted metal. Astral wasn't sure what happened next, but a loud crack was followed by a high pitched hiss, and that was followed by a sickly slurping noise. When his vision cleared, the first thing Astral saw was the blobby line of emergency sealant across his visor. The next thing he saw was that he was stuck to the outside of the Philomena by a single hoof. He carefully pulled himself to the hull, and took a moment to catch his breath. He was safe for the moment, but why was there a Celestial here? On his ship? Astral leaned over the edge of the airlock, peering into the cargo bay. There were now five working drones in the cargo bay, and the Celestial was fighting them. The lack of gravity and atmosphere meant nothing to her as she danced and flew through the cargo bay with a Pegasus' natural grace, effortlessly dodging every plasma blast fired at her. Watching the fight, Astral could see that the Celestial was avoiding the cargo containers, purposefully staying in the open and drawing the drones to her. Why? She should have been using the crates as cover. Two of the drones came into the open, and the Celestial pounced between them and the crates. They were instantly vaporized in a blast of magic easily twice as powerful as the energy weapons they carried. A third drone came up behind the Celestial hoping to catch her off guard. She looked back as the drone raised his weapon, and a pink sphere sprung up around the drone as it fired. The blast hit the force field's inner wall and detonated, reducing the drone to molten slag plastered against the opposite side of the sphere. The pink force field disappeared, leaving the jagged semisphere of metal standing as it cooled. There were only two drones left now, and they were being much more cautious than their scrapped counterparts. One of them was anyway. While it ran towards the other end of the cargo bay, the other one had taken off its weapon and lobbed it at the the Celestial. Astral turned away the moment it touch the wall. The blaster exploded like a grenade, creating a flash of plasma a dozen times larger than its normal discharge. Green flame burned through the cargo bay wall and dissipated into space beyond. It left a cauterized gash several decks high and as wide as the cargo bay. Astral looked back into the ship. Half the cargo bay was gone, vaporized in the plasma's wake, but the cargo containers were somehow untouched. They had all been pushed to the far end of the cargo bay, away from the explosion. The Celestial stood in the same spot as before, ignoring the fact that she was now positioned over open space. Her fur displayed slight traces of scorching, but other than that, there was no sign that she had gone through a plasma detonation that would have reduced a normal pony to ashes. With an involuntary flutter of her wings, the Celestial hopped forward, onto the remaining deck of the the cargo bay. She then walked over to the nearest metal crate. Astral could only watch as she ripped the crate open, magic tearing it in two like she was cracking an egg. She tossed the broken shell towards the hole in the Philomena's side and sifted through the fruit it contained before nudging that towards space as well. Why? Astral ground his teeth as the Celestial ripped through three more crates in the same manner. Why was she doing this? She had to be looking for something, but did she have to destroy all his cargo to find it? There was movement among the crates. A yellow clad figure climbed out from between two them. From his displaced vantage point, Astral could see it clearly, but the Celestial was facing away from it and was distracted by her search. The drone pulled its weapon off its hoof, mimicking its counterparts previous action. Astral drew his gun. He had two shots left, he had to stop the drone with them. The Celestial probably wouldn't even notice another plasma blast, but the additional damage to the Philomena would most likely render the ship unsalvageable. Not to mention, he could get caught in the blast. He aimed for the blackened faceplate. If he could blind the drone, he could buy a few seconds to do something about the plasma blaster. He held his breath and pulled the trigger. The flash of powder was followed by the splatter of red against a crate. The bullet had gone straight through the head of the suit, barely slowed down by what was inside. This led Astral to the horrifying realization that this suit didn't hold a drone. It held a pony. Astral felt sick again. He had been so relieved to be fighting drones that he never considered the possibility that their operator was hiding among them. His stomach twisted, but had nothing more to give, and only caused Astral pain. That pain became festering anger, anger at the situation, anger at himself, but most of all, anger at the Celestial tearing through his cargo. He didn't care about the apples anymore, or his mission. He barely even cared that his ship was nearly destroyed, or that he would probably never be able to get another one. The only thing he cared about was making sure the Celestial didn't leave. Every time, every single time, a Celestial shows up somewhere, ponies' lives are ruined. They reap destruction from everything they touch, be it by their own hooves, or by events they set in motion. Astral knew this first hoof. Though most of the galaxy viewed Celestials as mysterious creatures of legend, Astral had seen them twice before. The first time, his parents and home planet had paid the price. The second time, it was his old ship and a space station full of innocents. This time, he was going to make sure it ended here. Inside the cargo bay, the Celestial continued to tear away at the cargo crates, oblivious to the rage directed at her. Eventually, she ripped open a crate that had more than just apples in it. Among the bright red fruit, there was what looked like another shipping container, only this one was of a vastly different design. Instead of the cheap, mass-produced aluminum of the other containers, this one brought to mind the containment chamber of a small reactor, precision made and reinforced in several spots. It had a small glowing panel on the front, and what appeared to be an observation port covered by a hinged metal plate. With this new container in tow, the Celestial wasted no time in heading for the exit. She walked to the cargo bay's open airlock, then out onto the ship's hull. Astral stood there, waiting for her with weapon drawn. He said nothing as he glared at the Celestial. She met his gaze, and they stared at each other for several moments, each one waiting for the other to make a move. The Celestial made the first move, but it wasn't an aggressive one. She slowly turned away from Astral and started walking off. "Oh, no you don't!" Astral ran across the ship's hull and placed himself in the Celestial's path. "One way or another, this is the last time a Celestial ruins my life." The unicorn leveled his gun at the mare's head, sighting down its barrel. She didn't move, didn't flinch, she just watched Astral, looking past the weapon and locking eyes with him. Her expression didn't show the fear or anger he would have expected from a pony, and it didn't show the barbaric fervor and condescension he had seen from Celestials before. If anything, her expression showed sorrow. Astral's will wavered for a second, and so did his weapon. In that second, the Celestial lunged forward. She was past the gun and crouched in front of Astral before he could react. She immediately wrenched Astral's gun away, forcibly breaking his magic with a heavy-hoofed burst of her own. Then, she slammed her shoulder into his chest. There wasn't much force behind the blow, but it was still enough to break his suit's magnetic hold on the ship. Astral drew his knife as he tumbled away from the Philomena. After his third spin, he sliced across the side of his suit's chestplate, rupturing his main air supply. Air exploded out, and Astral was thrown back against the hull. Astral cried out in pain as several bits of sharp plastic dug into his back. The force of the impact had been enough to shatter most of the internal supports, and according to the alarms that were now screaming in his ear, dislodge the suit's main battery. The backup had kicked in, but with main air and battery both missing the suit was now in recovery mode. Temperature and oxygen levels were reduced drastically, only maintaining survivable levels, and the four magnetic coils in the shoes had turned off in favor of a single, much more powerful, magnet in the suit's belt. Astral had to struggle to right himself. He had to contort his body and use his neck and head to push against the new magnetic field holding him to the Philomena. Every movement made the broken plastic in the suit dig in deeper. After a few seconds of wriggling pain, Astral was belly-down against the hull. He immediately reached out for the weapon held in the Celestial's magic. His own energy hit hers like he was hitting a wall. It was much more powerful than anything he could ever hope to achieve. But, there were cracks in the wall. There were fluctuations in the Celestial's magic, and Astral forced a thin thread of energy through them. The Celestial noticed what he was doing as his magic wrapped around the trigger. Astral was sure that she would counter the gun's discharge somehow, but it was only a diversion. Using a separate thread of energy, he flung his knife at the celestial as he pulled the trigger. At the same time, the Celestial changed her grip on the pistol. Instead of letting go, or pushing the barrel away, she squeezed. She pinched the barrel shut just as the hammer came down. The resulting explosion tore the gun to pieces, and turned those pieces into bullets of their own. The slide and hammer were blown back, and bounced of astral's faceplate, leaving a crack that quickly sealed with the last of his suit's emergency sealant. Jagged pieces of the barrel hit the left side of the Celestial's face, peppering her with small cuts, and slicing a notch in her ear. Blood welled up in the Celestial's wounds, but didn't flow or drift into space. It was almost like atmosphere being held in by a forcefield. Astral winced at the sight of it. It was red, same red as anypony's, and except for having both wings and horn, the Celestial looked like a regular mare. Astral fought the sentiment back. The last Celestial he saw laughed while ripping individual walls out of a space station. Every Celestial he had ever seen was responsible for the death of at least a dozen ponies, why would this one be different? She certainly proved herself a capable fighter. Astral tried to stand up, and immediately started screaming in pain. His shoulder, something was wrong. He looked over. His knife was buried in his suit, blade first. It must have been thrown back when the gun ruptured. The unicorn stayed still, waiting for the pain to die down, and the Celestial watched him passively. This was it, he realized. He couldn't fight back anymore. He looked up at the Celestial, wanting to at least see what was going to happen to him. They stared at each other for a moment before the Celstial turned around, and started walking away along the Philomena's hull. “Why don’t you just kill me already?” The stallion clutched at the knife buried in his shoulder. If it were to move, even a little bit, his environmental suit would lose pressure, and he would be at the mercy of the vacuum around him. Not that it mattered at this point. “You damn Celestial! If you plan to abandon me on this skeleton just finish the job already.” It turned around. In the deep of space, it couldn’t possibly hear him, but still, it turned around. Eyes, deep and purple, met his. Its head shook slowly, as if to refuse his demand. “You can hear me, can’t you?” He dragged himself across the fractured metal plating of the ship’s hull. “I don’t know how, but you can hear me. Then, tell me. Why did you do this?” He screamed at the creature beyond his suit’s faceplate. “Why me?! Haven’t I lost enough to your kind yet?” It walked towards him. Despite the lack of gravity, it moved gracefully, anchored to the hull without a spacesuit or even magnetic shoes. “If you can hear me, you have to have some way to answer me.” He felt a stabbing pain in his shoulder, different from the pain of the steel, but centered on the same spot. When he realized what it was, he ripped the knife away, and did his best to hold pressure on the tear it left behind. The knife, dead cold from exposure to open space, had started freezing his wound. He kept an eye on the suit’s pressure level, but there was no drop, no change. He slowly moved his hoof away from the tear. His own blood had frozen in the cut, sealing it tight. “Pathetic, isn’t it? I must look like a bug to you, struggling to survive even as I’m crushed underhoof.” He looked up. The Celestial was standing over him. “Three times. Three times, I’ve wished I was dead. Three times, I fought and survived. Three times, you’ve taken everything from me. At least have the guts to finish it this time!” It lowered its head, closing its eyes and lining up its horn with the pony’s forehead. “No. Not like that.” He laughed. “At least look me in the eyes when you do it.” The celestial opened its eyes and looked at him without moving its head. “As you wish.” The voice rang in the stallion’s head. It wasn’t the voice that such a monster should have. It was a beautiful voice, clear tone and timbre laying bare the emotions its owner hid. It echoed in the pony’s head as he closed his eyes. And, as light consumed him, he had one final thought. “She gets to live. Why is she so sad?” When the light faded, she answered him. "I don't get to live, I am forced to live, alone, while my friends are denied their lives." Astral opened his eyes. He was on the bridge of the Philomena. His suit's emergency magnet had him glued to the deck in front of his command chair. He felt weak, tired really, but the pain his shoulder was so dull he could barely feel it. The Celestial stood over him like she was a moment ago, and behind her, one wall of the bridge was open to space. "This ship is heavily damaged, but it should be enough to bring you to safety." She nodded to the navigation panel. "I've already set the autopilot and sent out a distress call. You should be rescued within the hour." Astral tried to lift his head, but he found himself feeling heavy, too heavy to move. "What did you do to me?" The words came out as a hoarse croak. "What do you want?" "You should be able to sleep peacefully until help comes." The Celestial turned around. "As for what I want, I see no reason to tell you." She started walking towards open space, and her hoof hit something that had been floating near the deck. She grabbed it before it could drift away. Through the haze forming in his vision, Astral recognized it as the Daring Do book he had been reading during the slipstream jump. She looked at its spine, then wiped a hoof across her eyes. What appeared to be a single, frozen tear drifted away from her, catching and reflecting the light from stars and the bridge's emergency lights. The Celestial carried the book with her to the edge of the hole in the ship. As she spread her wings at the threshold of open space, that frozen tear bounced of a Astral's faceplate and broke into pieces. Just before the dull fade of sleep took him, the Celestial took off amidst a shower of short-lived stars. It was a breathtaking sight.