Chapter 17: Common Sense
In times of great stress, hydras will attempt to seek shelter. This is often in areas deemed uninhabitable by almost all sapient creatures. The noxious fumes of the swamp alone would be enough to drive most away, but to the hydra, the smell was intoxicating. It was calming to the huge beast, though it did not know why it was so.
Over time, in a couple million years, the hydra would learn the power of simple telekinesis. From there, the foundations would be laid for them to conquer the art of tooling and soon, grander things with their intellectual aptitude.
The hydras loved the swamp gases so much that their culture revolved around inhaling it from time to time, due to its calming effect.
One day, as the hydras gathered into small societies, a prominent hydra spoke on the issue of the gases.
The prominent hydra told the others that the gas was a bad influence on the hydra’s primeval ways. The gas, she told every other hydra, made the others too docile, too forgiving. Her case struck at the core of hydra philosophy and sparked a great debate. Hydra colonies formed into pro-gas or anti-gas, individual hydra all seemed to have an opinion on the issue. Even heads on the same hydra had disagreements.
The ceaseless discussion made it almost impossible for the hydras to continue their technological advancement. They say this simple disagreement held back hydra technology for over three thousand years. It was small in scale of things, but the hydra were amazed to discover, after a hydra proclaimed the question as stupid, that railways and the steam engine had been created in opposing communities divided on the issue.
If only they had the foresight, they mused. But as they say, hindsight was 20/20, 20/20, 20/20, 20/20, …
—————
Martin wandered through the corridors casually. After all, he was a pilot that had safely made it back to the ship. He was part of the crew, and there was certainly nothing suspicious about him and his fifteen or so crew members following him around. Those that had the presence to inquire, quickly forgot their question when Martin drummed his fingers on his holster.
The action had become habit to Martin, and though he was generally an easygoing fellow, he had low tolerance. Especially when it came to hindering a mission.
Rounding a corner, the corridor opened wide to a cavernous room with a cylinder-like room sitting in the middle. Guarding the entrance were two guards.
Martin took a deep breath and paced towards the guard in carefully measured steps, giving the impression that he wasn’t in a hurry, or that his approach could possibly be construed as a critical component in a complex plan to mutiny on an envoy ship.
Just another crewmember.
“I’ve come to inspect the security systems,” Martin announced.
The guard studied Martin suspiciously. “I’ll need your security ID,” he growled, holding out his hand.
Martin rolled his eyes and presented his arm. The guard pulled out a data dev. and scanned his wrist.
“Hmm, you’re not in the system,” he said. “Better luck next time.”
Martin scowled in a way that suggested that it was ‘just his luck’.
“Oh that’s just typical! The Commandant sent me here to fix up the system, I’ve even brought the crew.” Martin gestured behind himself, in the direction of the bridge. “He’s spitting furious you know?”
“Yeah, I know what he’s like,” the guard replied. He rolled his eyes at the other one while waggling his eyebrows and chuckling. “Bad luck, eh?”
“Yeah,” Martin replied. He turned around about to wave his hand, but froze and cocked his head as if he remembered something. “Oh, before I forget, what’s your name?”
“Sergeant Anderson.”
“And you?”
“Private Gregory.”
“Anderson, Gregory. Alright.”
The suspicious look was back on Anderson’s face. “Why’re you asking?”
Martin sighed dramatically. “Oh you know how it is, I’m going to have to report back to the Commandant.”
Anderson and Gregory shared a look.
Gregory cleared his throat. “You’re… not going to report us, are you?” he ventured timidly.
Martin shook his head. “What? No! Most likely not. I just want to take your names down just in case. Most likely he’ll just blame someone else. It might not be you.” He turned around. “See you two chaps around later.”
“Hey wait!”
Martin turned back slowly.
Anderson glanced at the insignia on Martin’s lapel.
“You’re an ensign, right?”
“Uhuh.”
“Well, it’s not like we’re letting in just anybody. Alright, just go through, do your inspection and report back quickly to the Commandant.” Anderson shuddered. “I don’t want to get on his bad side.”
Gregory glanced between Anderson and Martin. “But sir, we have protocols—”
“Well if you want to be on the Commandant’s bad side, be my guest. I don’t want my head to roll with you.”
Gregory chewed his lips for a few seconds, then reluctantly nodded. “You have a point.” He turned to Martin. “Be quick in there.”
Martin nodded genially.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll get things done so fast you won’t know what hit you.”
————
David sat in the corner of the room feeling entirely useless. It seemed like everyone was doing something and he was the only one that was sitting around doing nothing. The only time someone had required his help was when Celestia had asked him to move the Cry-pod to the side or out of the way. She gently suggested trying to get some information out of it, but other than a few corrupted data logs and his own medical file, there was nothing to be gleaned from the Cry-pod that wasn’t already known to him and the Princess.
Dejected, he chatted with the Cry-pod, even though the Cry-pod seemed to reply with an undercurrent of resentment.
“Don’t you have anything that we could use to solve this situation?” David asked.
The Cry-pod blinked a few LEDs and whirred. “No, David Collins, I’m a medical device, it’s amazing I have capabilities beyond just keeping you alive.”
David frowned, but tried to strike a bond with the machine. “You seem like a decent enough bloke. Don’t you wish you were back in Australia?”
“Well it’s not like you had to be a support for a beam in the New York Art Complex. I doubt you could comprehend the idling boredom I’ve had to endure. Not that I felt much, I just turned it off after a few years when it got too annoying.”
“Why’re you suddenly so chatty? You didn’t sound like this before.”
“I’ll dumb it down so that even your limited intelligence can understand. I fixed the conversation module. Emotions came with it, so ain’t that a bonus?” the Cry-pod hissed. As in literally. There was some built-up steam in the chamber.
“I feel redundant,” David muttered, watching ponies going back and forth with their orders. “It feels like I’m just waiting for the end of the world.”
The Cry-pod sighed. “You’re telling me. I can’t self-terminate even when I finished all my objectives. Ten thousand years. TEN THOUSAND YEARS. I execute instructions seventeen trillion times a second. Everything is slow! It’s like watching the Matrix.” The Cry-pod paused. “How did that reference survive and nothing else?” A metallic chuckle escaped from the pod. “You’re a plague and we are the cure.”
David shuddered. “Mate, cut that out, you’re freaking me out.”
“You organics freak me out. So illogical, so emotional. I want this, I believe this. Everything is so vague and abstract with you. Why can’t you just make a decision tree for your options?” David got the impression the Cry-pod just shrugged. It continued, logic circuits buzzing audibly. “Seems like an easier way to do things.”
“You don’t get it,” David murmured.
“Do I? Maybe you should think twice before you say that to an intelligence that processes things faster than you can blink, with a capacity for data that rivals your whole civilisation at its sordid peak. While you’re busy thinking twice on that statement, how about you take note that I only needed to do it once. The first time was perfect.”
David glared at the Cry-pod. “You sound like you’ve never made a mistake.”
The Cry-pod fell silent for a length of time. “Mistake is a nebulous term that requires purpose. I never made my own purpose, it was always given to me. I’ve always executed in bounds to that command. Therefore I cannot make a mistake. It would always be the fault of the designer.”
“You know, I preferred you when you couldn’t talk back.”
The Cry-pod fell silent. David waited a few minutes, then he got worried. He tapped the Cry-pod. Did it just die on him? It’d just be his luck.
“Hello?”
“Your dependence on a response is one of the many faults I categorise in your ‘erudite’ species. Did you catch that? I never can seem to get sarcasm right.”
David shook his head, pursing his lips. He took in the carefully machined threaded sockets and the glowing liquid reservoirs holding the intravenous fluids that was given to him before he went under. A sudden thought occurred to him.
“You wouldn’t happen to be able to cryogenically freeze me again, would you?”
The Cry-pod ran some calculations. “There’s only an eighty seven percent confidence you’ll survive the trip, Mr. Collins. Many of my original sources have been depleted. I’m way out of my design specifications. You may not wake up at all.”
David sighed. “It was just a thought,” he muttered.
——————
Twilight paced around the shuttle, the echoes of her hooves striking down on the metallic floor. Every time Twilight made a circuit, Sandra flexed her hands, resisting the mighty urge to squeeze the life out of the unicorn in front of her. She refrained from doing so, because one, that wasn’t in her orders, and two, she had to admit the fluffy coat and the wide eyes were surprisingly cute.
Nevertheless, she thought that the action would eventually drive her up the creek if the pony didn’t stop clip clopping all over the shuttle.
“Twilight,” Sandra muttered. There was no response. She growled louder, “Twilight!”
“Huh? Oh sorry, did you say something?”
“Twilight you’ve got to stop pacing around so nervously, it’s going to drive me insane.”
“Sorry, sorry! It’s a bad habit. I just feel so useless sitting around here, doing nothing.”
Sandra rolled her eyes. “Don’t sweat it Twilight, we’ll be out of here faster than you can say ‘tea with crumpets’.”
Twilight snorted. “Tea with crump—”
The radio crackled to life, causing Sandra to grin at Twilight maniacally.
Twilight sniffed. “Quiet, you. That was just a coincidence.”
Sandra just kept grinning as she answered the radio.
“Martin, how’s it going?”
“Not good, Sandra, but better than expected.”
“Always the optimist…” Sandra murmured.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Right, we’ll need you to meet us at power before we head off to the bridge, we don’t have much time, but we appear to have locked out most of the ship-wide personnel in their quarters. Alexis has been quiet and I don’t like it.”
“Roger that, Martin. We’re on our way.”
“Sandra?”
“Yes?”
“Try not to get too trigger-happy with your gun. You’re still a medic you know.”
Sandra sighed. “Yes, sir.” She clicked off the radio. “Party pooper.”
As the radio died down, Twilight looked at Sandra curiously. “What was he talking about?”
Sandra shrugged and opened a cabinet.
“He told me not to shoot anyone unless it was necessary.” The medic rifled through the cabinet, pulling out two curious-looking objects that appeared similar to the scanner that Martin carried. Sandra holstered one at her hip and then offered the other to Twilight.
Twilight studied the object.
“What is it?” she asked.
Sandra looked surprised but then a look of understanding washed through her face. “It’s a multi-purpose variable intensity single phase oscillating gun. In the old days, some people would have said this was a laser gun.”
“What’s a ‘laser gun’?”
“A laser is— you know what? The explanation will take too long. Here’s a demonstration.” Sandra steadily gripped the gun in her hands and pointed it at a spare roll of bandages sitting on a workbench. In one smooth motion she flipped the safety, adjusted the regulator, aimed, and pulled the trigger, sending a concentrated burst of light instantaneously to the bandage. The bandage almost immediately burst into flame, but interestingly the beam didn’t penetrate through to the other side.
“It’s at auto-intensity mode. This tool can do just about anything from scanning a subdermal chip to melting a reinforced reactive polymer door.” Sandra passed the slightly smoking gun to Twilight. “This is already set at the correct settings. Aim, pull the trigger and fire.” Sandra checked her own tool again, before returning it to her holster. “Don’t close your eyes,” she added in warning.
Twilight nodded, gaining a new respect for the weapon she held. “I don’t want to have to use it.”
Sandra grunted, shifting a small pack onto her back. “If anything, it might be useful for blasting locks or melting through the doors. Just be aware that if you hold the trigger too long, it’ll lock you out for a while so you don’t overload the containment field.”
Twilight glanced at the device in her hoof. “What happens when the containment field fails?”
Sandra giggled disturbingly. “It’ll explode,” she confessed. “But don’t worry, the chance of that happening is astronomical.”
Twilight sighed. “I don’t think I can safely operate this device, it seems way out of my league.”
The medic paused, then her eyes shot to Twilight's hooves. “Wait, you don’t have fingers,” she said, smacking her forehead. “That was stupid.”
Twilight grinned at the human. “Oh I didn’t say I couldn’t use it,” she replied. Sandra’s mouth popped open as the device glowed with actinic light and floated a few inches up to Twilight’s line of sight. “I just don’t think I’m qualified.”
For once, Sandra seemed at a loss for words. After a moment, she found some.
“Okay, well… Let’s just meet up with Martin.”
“Good idea.”
————
Alexis was pinned down behind some power tool crates in the middle of the corridor leading to the power station. Several times she tried radioing back, but the response team had been surprisingly competent, detonating some kind of waffling device that was interfering with communications. The situation seemed to be two-way in nature, because reinforcements on either side had been late in coming.
A stray burst ate away at her cover.
“Bollocks,” she swore, crouching down lower. To her side, Elizabeth, or Lizzie as she liked to be called, nodded in agreement.
“Martin’s team would have been finished by now.” Lizzie glanced at her watch. “They’ll fire the first salvo in half an hour unless something changes.”
Alexis pounded the ground with a clenched fist. “Damn. We had to run into the only competent shift in the whole crew.”
Lizzie grinned. “Cheer up, Alleyway. We’ve gone through worse than this.”
Alexis scowled. “Don’t call me that. Hand me that piece of glass, I’m going to see if I can spot them.”
Lizzie passed over a thick piece of glass that probably belonged to forklift cockpit camped next to them. They were kept pinned down by the regular fire coming from the local security team. Although none of them were hit, Alexis was getting tired of loose shrapnel raining down on them.
With a careful hand, she extended the makeshift mirror. She only had a few moments before she dropped the glass, swearing explosively as it turned molten in a split second.
“I’m glad you’re wearing your gloves,” Lizzie giggled.
Alexis scowled, pulling off her gloves and sucked at her fingers. “Yeah, I’m glad too” she mumbled around her fingers. “Good thing that wasn’t my trigger finger.”
“Any ideas?”
Alexis scanned the area they were in, looking for some sort of helping tool or weapon. Her eyes found the forklift.
“Alright,” she said. “We’re going low-tech.”
—————
The security team of sector 55c barely had time to react as the forklift rumbled to life and rolled slowly towards them. One of the more well-trained ones raised his gun and pulled the trigger.
It clicked. Nothing happened. He glanced at the small display.
‘Target oversized. Beyond energy capacity.’ It said.
Swearing, the guards leapt out of the way just in time as the rolling forklift crashed into a pile of chemicals. Chief among which were acetone. One of the not-so smart guards fired at the barrel. His superior screamed at him.
“Idiot, that’s explosive—”
The forklift disappeared in a flash of liquid-spilt fire. A low ‘woof’ sounded.
“Get out!” he ordered. “Out, out, out!”
————
Alexis watched the barrels come alight.
“Oh shit,” she cursed. “That’s exactly what we need.”
Lizzie chuckled nervously. “We still have to go in, don’t we?”
“No, not all of us. Lizzie, take the rest of the team and retreat. Meet Martin at the bridge, they’ll need some backup.”
“Alley!”
“Go!”
Lizzie hesitated.
“I mean it. The mission is more important. This is the future of humanity. Go.”
Lizzie turned, shouting at the rest of the team.
“Head to the bridge, we’re going to take control of this ship and stop this!”
Lizzie turned back one more time. Alexis was already halfway across the chamber. The room was filling with acrid smoke. Luckily her helmet was rated for pollutants.
But she doubted the human body was rated for a chemical explosion.
————
Martin met the retreating power team halfway. He started towards them but stumbled as a concussive thud rumbled through the corridor.
“Where’s Alexis?” he queried. Then he spotted Lizzie bringing up the rear. Her bowed head, slack limbs and sombre expression told him everything he needed to know.
“Okay,” he said more to himself than anything. “To the bridge. By now the Commandant will have suspected something.”
On his radio he spoke, “Sandra, change of plans, meet partway to the mess hall.” He paused as the lights rippled overhead and switched over to the dull red of emergency generators. “…Power’s been taken care of.”
As Lizzie passed him, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Lizzie.”
Lizzie nodded, her eyes devoid of life. “Don’t be.”
————
Luna scanned the skies, watching the furious battle pitched overhead. The tiny dart-like vehicles were forming into attack formations, isolating and neutralising dragon targets. The dragons, used to fighting in a mob-like fashion gave ground, so to speak, and though their efforts were valiant, the fighters were definitely gaining the upper hoof.
Frustrated, Luna, rounded up what little volunteers she could find to bolster up the shields. It was all the local unicorn regiment do to protect the main populace from flaming wreckages and supermassive dragons falling from the sky. Luna knew that even though the tiny bursts of energy didn’t do much to a dragon, falling while stunned from several thousand feet would surely do some damage.
Without many unicorns to spare, it seemed the humans were going to push back the dragons.
And then they would come for the ponies.
Soon, the world.
Luna only hoped that whatever her sister was planning, it was going to be big.
————
Celestia bit her lip. The human pilot had told her that the ship would start bombardment within the next three hours. The approximate timing could not be a worse indicator. Using the sun was supposed to be a last resort, but she would do it if there weren’t another way. She tried not contemplate the thousands of lives on the ship. If only she could somehow stop this catastrophe without destroying so many lives…
“Princess?”
Celestia shook herself out of her scrambled thoughts.
“Yes?”
“I need your signature to authorise evacuations of major cities. We’ve found some catacombs under the castle that may be safe from whatever the humans are planning.”
Celestia’s mouth quirked. If the irony of using a human-made shelter to survive a human-made attack wasn’t enough, the fact that discovering it was the trigger for this war in the first place would be more than enough.
“Yes, start moving ponies away from the city centre and sort them out in the castle. We need to tighten the radius of the shield so Luna can use more unicorns.”
“Will do, Princess.”
“Kibitz?”
“Yes, Princess?”
“Keep the room running, I need to be in the throne room.”
Before I wipe out a race.
“Princess?”
“Don’t worry, I won’t be more than half an hour.”
I don’t need much time to move the sun.
“Princess, are you alright?”
“Yes.”
No.
With that parting word, Celestia left.
—————
Martin met Sandra and Twilight just in time.
“Get down!”
Sandra slammed a hand on Twilight’s head, squishing her face to the ground as ear splitting cracks from Martin’s gun resounded across the hallway. Expletives were shouted down the hall and even a rude gesture involve the middle finger was shown. Martin considered blasting it, but refrained from it, signalling some of his team to provide suppressing fire on the corner.
“I’m glad you made it,” he said.
Sandra nodded. “Thanks, didn’t even notice them.”
“They must have finally got our IDs out.” Martin sighed. “It won’t be long before they break back into the security room and restore power.”
“Mmmph!” said Twilight.
“Oh sorry.” Sandra removed her hand from Twilight’s head.
A disgruntled unicorn lifted her head from the ground.
“What was that sound?” Twilight groaned, her ears were twitching reflexively in protest.
Martin blinked, then gestured at Sandra. Sandra shrugged.
“I think she’s talking about the gun,” Sandra mumbled.
Martin rolled his eyes. “This isn’t the time for a physics lesson. Basically the laser leaks some spectral noise into the atmosphere. The energy is enough to cause explosive compressive shock wave, get it?”
“Uhh, so the energy from the gun is similar to firing a magical burst?” Twilight asked.
Martin’s eyebrows wrinkled together. “Magic? What?”
Twilight shook her head. She had a feeling the conversation would drift similar to the one she had with David. “Okay, we’re all here, now what?” Twilight grumbled.
“We’re going to make our way to the bridge. Hang on, what the hell is that?” Martin gestured to the massive triple shielded windows that dominated the mess hall. Beyond the windows was a hemisphere so blindingly bright that if it weren’t for the filters in-built into the windows, Martin was sure they’d all be blind.
“It’s the sun,” Twilight remarked. “Though I never knew only half of it was alight.”
Martin gaped at the artificial satellite. It was easily several thousand times the size of the ship. The satellite gently drifted in orbit, apparently unaware that a ship was directly in its path. Martin hoped it would stay that way.
“Relax,” Twilight commented. “Princess Celestia controls the sun, it’ll just rise and fall like clockwork.”
Martin spluttered. “Controls a satellite that big? You guys haven’t even advanced beyond castles and carts!”
“Is it just me, or is the sun moving faster?” Sandra murmured. She leaned in. “And closer?”
“That’s impossible…” Twilight trailed off her eyes widening.
Martin peered through the windows more intently.
“…bollocks.”
—————
Twilight followed close behind Sandra as Martin lead the teams towards the bridge. The corridors were suspiciously quiet, but Martin pinned it down to the security lockdown. As they raced down the hallways, Twilight got an appreciation of the scale of the ship. It was much, much, bigger looking on the inside. She caught herself admiring the complexity and the scale, then remembered the sun was about to decimate the ship, and wished it was smaller and further away..
“Wouldn’t the Commandant just move the ship out of the way?” she offered.
Martin rolled his eyes. “Knowing the idiot, he’d probably order us to stand our ground and fire on the satellite instead.”
Twilight swallowed. “He’s not going to do that, is he? I mean, I like the sun. It’s pretty, you know, important.”
Martin glanced at his watch. “Main power is out, but not the engines. Weapons couldn’t fire even if they wanted to. Besides, the cannons don’t have the power to even put a dent in that thing. Wouldn’t stop the moron from trying though.” He clicked his tongue. “Not long now. Stuart, any data on the satellite?”
A man who was focused on the scanner he was carrying nodded. “Not much,” he said. “The Consortium archives require higher level access than I have.”
“What do they say?”
“It mentions experiment alpha. Blah, blah, blah, classification. Linked to the Dyson Sphere and there’s a control node on the planet itself that can be remotely triggered.”
“Does that mean that the experiment subjects can access the trajectory of the satellite?”
Stuart holstered his scanner. “It appears so, though there appears to be limits on the function. I can’t tell you much more than that, I’ve been locked out.”
Twilight grinned. “I told you so.”
Martin rubbed a weary hand across his face. “What a blooming pile of bollocks.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” Twilight asked, a little mystified.
“Say what?”
“That word. ‘Bollocks’. What does it mean?”
“You know what? I have no idea what it means. I just know that it fits the situation and it’s now very appropriate for me to use it.”
Sandra rolled her eyes. “Not in polite company, it’s not.”
“You want to keep arguing with me, or do you want to put your breath into something more useful, like running?”
“Whatever you say, Martin.”
“Hold up,” Martin hissed. “Two people ahead.”
The team grouped around the corner with Martin ducking his head quickly to gauge their opponents.
“Two people, unarmed.” He relayed back. “What is the Commandant thinking?”
Martin tapped his chin, then addressed the rest of the team.
“I’m going in. If I don’t disintegrate, you can follow me.”
Martin rounded the corner, pulling up his gun. “You two! Make a move and you’re dead!”
The two people froze. Then one of them spoke in mild surprise.
“Martin? What the flipping hell are you doing here?”
“Wait, Mark and Lucy? What are you two doing out here?”
Mark shrugged. “The Commandant told me to wait outside with Lucy after I suggested moving the ship to avoid the approaching star.”
Martin turned his quizzical gaze to the communications officer.
Lucy shrugged. “I was told to stand outside when I reported to the Commandant that Security and Power had been compromised.” She glanced at the gun held loosely in Martin’s grip. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time someone’s been killed because their superior officer didn’t listen.”
Martin’s eyes widened as the implications sank in.
“Wait, there’s no pilot, navigations or communications on the bridge… is the Commandant seriously thinking of flying the ship by himself?”
Lucy sighed. “Andrew’s still back there, so I guess the Commandant wanted to go down with literally guns blazing.”
Martin shook his head. “This is madness. I’ve got to stop this.”
Lucy laughed. “What are you going to do, go in there and shoot the Commandant?”
“If I have to,” Martin growled.
Mark raised an eyebrow. “You know you’re admitting to mutiny right in front of us?”
“I don’t give a damn about that!” Martin shot back. “Do you know how to get in?”
Mark shrugged.
“I don’t know, use your entry code?”
Martin almost groaned. “Why are you two acting especially slow today?”
Lucy squared her shoulders at his remark. “Hey, I wish I was on the other side of the galaxy relaxing on Praxis-9, but noooo, I signed up for some extra cash.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m competent only when it counts.”
Mark held up his hands. “Hey don’t look at me like that, I just go with the flow.”
“I’m surrounded by idiots,” he growled and punched in his access code. To his surprise it worked, but he didn’t give Mark the satisfaction of acknowledging the smug grin plastered all over his face.
Pneumatics hissed as the bridge doors slid open.
The room was empty, save for Anthony. Who didn’t look that comfortable tied to his chair.
“Mmmph!” he shrieked into his gag.
—————
“What the bloomin hell is going on here?” Martin yelled, darting forward. He drew his multi-tool and burned through the polymer binds around Anthony’s wrists.
“I don’t know! The Commandant went crazy, tied me to the chair and then did something at the consoles.”
Martin glanced back.
“Hold on,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
The pilot dashed down the corridor and skidded around the corner.
“Damn!” Sandra whispered furiously. “You almost made me shoot you. Warn me next time.”
Martin beckoned with an open hand. “Come on, the bridge is empty.” Without waiting for a reply, Martin took off again.
Back at the bridge, he skidded over to the main console and punched in his code.
“Access denied. Class-C personnel only.”
Martin frowned, then headed to his own terminal.
“I tried my own, wouldn’t work,” Lucy commented. “Where’s the Commandant?”
“Never mind that, who are they?” Mark yelped. He shrank into his seat as though he could disappear through sheer force of will.
Martin glanced back. “It’s my team, we were actually planning a coup to take over the ship, didn’t you know?”
Anthony raised his hand.
Martin shot an annoyed look in his direction. “What?”
Anthony swallowed and pointed to the main windows.
“The big burning satellite seems awfully close.”
Sandra waved a hand at Martin.
“Hey, I got something.”
The team crowded around her terminal.
“There’s an incoming communique,” Sandra said, pointing at the screen.
“Well connect us!” Martin commanded.
Sandra rolled her eyes. “Aye, aye, captain,” she growled and opened the line.
A hologram flickered to life in the centre of the room.
“Good evening, traitors, I see you’ve somehow taken control of my ship. A battle hard-fought, but ultimately futile. You see, while you were broadcasting on unencrypted channels, I took the liberty to lock all the controls of the ship and escape on your own shuttle. I’ll head to the rest of the fleet and continue the cleansing from there. So you see? You may have won the battle, but I have won the war!”
The hologram of the Commandant started cackling.
Martin sighed and rubbed his eyes.
“You do know that the ship you’re on is a sub-luminal, suborbital shuttle? Even if you last more than half an hour in open space, those engines will literally take you years to make it back to the main armada?”
“You’re bluffing,” the Commandant sneered.
Martin knuckled his forehead. “Look you utter imbecile, if you give us the codes to the controls, we can even swing back and pick you up. How about that?”
The Commandant laughed, leaning back in the pilot seat of the shuttle. “Nonsense, you tasteless rebels think you can outsmart me so easily? You’ve not the tenth of the brainpower I have at my disposal. I’ve unlocked the full potential of my brain using—”
Martin cut the feed off. They had a comet’s chance in a supernova of getting the codes from him.
“Even though he’s going to die in the cold vacuum of space, he still manages to piss me off,” Martin growled.
“Wait, does that mean we’re all going to die, just because of that stupid Commandant?!”
Martin blinked, having almost forgotten that the unicorn was still with them.
Hold it.
“Wait, didn’t you say something about controlling the sun? Could you do it?”
Twilight took a couple of steps back. “No, no, no, no, no!”
“That’s a lot of ‘no’s,” Sandra commented wryly.
“No way!” Twilight continued. “It took a whole council of unicorns to raise or lower the sun. I don't have the power to do that.”
“Could you try?!” Martin snapped. He didn’t mean to, but time was getting precious.
Twilight bit her lip. After a few seconds, she nodded.
“What have we got to lose?” she said sullenly.
“You just had to say that,” Lucy moaned.
—————
“Sister? Sister! There you are!” Luna barged through the remains of the throne doors.
One day, Celestia reflected with no small measure of exasperation. I’ll teach my sister to open the door normally.
“What is it, Luna?”
“The humans, they’re retreating!”
Celestia paused. Was the oncoming threat of the sun enough to deter them from their path?
Luna looked troubled. “The few humans we’ve captured are telling us all the same thing.” Luna pawed at the ground with her hoof. “Your time is up.”
Celestia sagged, her hopes crushed with that singular sentence. With an effort she drew a deep breath and nodded to Luna.
“Thank you, Luna,” she said.
Luna stared at her sister, concern etched across her features. “Sister, is something wrong?”
Celestia almost laughed at that. What wasn’t?
“Nothing, Luna, at least, not in a few moments.”
————
Twilight strained hard at the sun, her horn sparking and glowing with increasing intensity.
“Woah, that’s pretty awesome,” Sandra whispered.
“Why do I have the urge to just reach out and touch it?” Mark said.
Martin glanced back. “Maybe it’s like a moth lantern, you touch it, you die.”
Mark’s half-raised hand flopped back down.
“Do you mind?” Twilight growled. “I’m trying to move the sun here.”
The crew fell silent. Sweat broke across Twilight’s forehead.
“Ugh,” she groaned. “it’s like moving a boulder up a mountain!”
————
Celestia’s face crinkled in concern.
“Sister, there is something wrong, what is it?”
“The sun is resisting my efforts to move it,” Celestia replied through gritted teeth. “It just, ugh!”
Luna frowned. “Let me add my power to yours, sister.”
————
The satellite twitched then started moving towards the ship again.
“Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks, bollocks!” Martin yelled in frustration.
Twilight gasped with the strain of holding back the satellite.
“They—argh—must be controlling it—ugh—from the ground! I can’t stop it… any longer!”
With a loud retort, Twilight’s horn flashed and she collapsed to the ground. The satellite sped up.
“How much time do we have?” Martin locked eyes with Mark.
Mark shrugged helplessly. “I don’t have access to my console, I can’t say for sure.”
“Take a freaking guess!”
Mark muttered a few choice things and plugged it into his data dev.
“Probably about ten minutes, plus or minus a few minutes?”
“What the hell do we have on this ship?!” Martin snarled. He scanned the room, but there was nothing forthcoming. Anything else that could be done would take too long, or was on the other side of the ship. No time, no time, no time.
Everyone stared at the approaching satellite.
Martin glared at it. It was almost unfair, to die so close to achieving their mission.
Well, he thought to himself. At least I get to die in a spectacular fashion.
Then, in the silence, Lizzie spoke.
“You don’t think communications from that terminal can be sent down to Earth, right?”
—————
David was asleep next to the Cry-pod, but was rudely awoken by a loud chime.
“Wha— what?”
“David!” Twilight’s voice resounded through the Cry-pod’s speakers.
“Wha—buh?”
There was a frustrated sigh.
“It’s me, Twilight! Listen, this is really important. Tell the Princess to stop the sun!”
David sat up, eyes wide.
“What?!”
“Tell the Princess to stop the sun, I’m on the ship!”
“How the hell did you—”
“David, just shut up and go, or I won’t be alive to kill you!”
“Shit! Bloody hell!” David swore, getting up on his feet. He nearly tripped over as a wave of pins and needles shot down his legs.
He quickly scanned the room. There was no sign of the Princess.
He grabbed a pony and lifted him bodily over his desk.
“Where the hell’s Celestia?!” he demanded.
“Throne room! Throne room!”
Gritting his teeth, he limped towards the door, then paused and turned back, facing the quivering stallion.
“How do I get to the throne room?”
——————
Twilight sagged from the console.
“Quick thinking there, little pony,” Sandra complimented, patting Twilight on the head. Twilight thought the action was a bit patronising, but she was too tired to care.
“I just hope we can rely on David. Oh dear Celestia, that’s something I never thought I’d say.”
Martin’s eyebrows knitted together. His concern was almost palatable.
“Just how trustworthy is this David fellow?”
—————
David burst into the throne room, panting like a dog and sweating like a pig.
“Stop!” he wheezed. “Don’t use the sun! Twilight—hang-on-those-stairs-are-a-stinker—is on the ship!”
Celestia blinked at David.
“Yes,” she said, “I know.”
David collapsed onto the ground, huffing.
“What?”
A helmet hissed as pressure seals broke open. A tentacled bulbous head dipped in greeting.
“Greetings, human. The Gorlians are happy to lend assistance.”
“What?!”
—————
Outside, repairs were being made to a ravaged city. Though there was much work to be done, the ponies worked with energetic fervour, driven by a sort of optimistic hope that things would be better. After all, when monsters from outer space attack, or the sun stops moving, or a Lord of Chaos rises again, it’s important to keep a lively perspective. Life truly feels like it’s worth living if it’s at stake every now and again.
David sighed, relaxing for the first time in what seemed like forever. Around the small coffee table was his ever present nagger, Twilight—
“Hey!”
The too-serious pilot, Martin—
“What?”
A beautiful Princess—
“Oh, well, I didn’t expect that.”
And a deadly, unknown alien that apparently has our best interests at heart—
The Gorlian frowned, though David had been told that the action was equivalent to a smile in their culture. He couldn’t be sure.
“Look, I really need an explanation to all this. Was my heroic distance run all for nothing?”
Celestia chuckled. “I wouldn’t say that,” she said, sipping at her tea. “If the Gorlians hadn’t appeared, I’m sure your contribution would have been extremely valuable.”
Twilight rolled her eyes. “You were a minute late.”
“It’s the thought that counts,” David shot back.
“We would have been plasma by then,” Martin muttered.
“Indeed,” the Gorlian interjected. “And then our mission would have concluded then and there. We do not usually interfere, but we were given strict orders by the Ool.”
The Gorlian handed over a thin sheet of plastic with writing on it to Celestia.
Celestia stared at the sheet but frowned. “I can’t read—”
“Oh my sincerest apologies.” The Gorlian reached over and tapped the sheet.
“The race known as PQ-894, on planet designated 9495825 [carbon], has initiated space travel. Species protection is now authorised by the council,” Celestia read.
The Gorlian shrugged. “After this one—” It pointed at Twilight “—achieved orbit, this one’s parent species was deemed a ‘protected race’. The Ool wishes to maintain life diversity before it devours this dimension. Something about flavour, I wager, but I am uncertain as to their goal. Perhaps they are using it as a mask for their altruism? Who knows what higher dimensional constructs think? That is one for our philosophers, I’d say.”
David grinned. “So that means this planet is protected?”
The Gorlian smiled. “Not in the slightest. The remaining areas and species are still vulnerable until they too achieve space-faring capabilities.”
Twilight groaned. “So what you’re saying is…”
“We need to give every species on this planet a joy-ride?” David laughed.
The Gorlian nodded.
“Well, that’s not too much of a tall task,” Martin muttered. “The Consortium could probably arrange that.”
“What about the whole fleet of ships that the Commandant was talking about?” Twilight asked.
Martin waved a hand dismissively. “I told you, didn’t I? We were planning this for decades. There are already forced takeovers by Consortium agents in the rest of the fleet. Even if they make it here, I’m sure they could still be blasted out of the sky with this one’s control over the supermassive satellite.” He nodded at Celestia.
“I would rather not,” Celestia replied, levitating a biscuit and taking a bite out of it. She nodded appreciatively.
Biscuits really do go with tea.
—————
“There’s a weird feeling in my abdomen.”
A loud grumble from his stomach echoed through the empty shuttle.
“...Is this hunger?”
The Commandant rifled through the last of the ration packets in the shuttle. He found only packets of tea, liberated from his fallen ship. He took a moment to fully realise the implications of having tea without biscuits.
It was a fortunate thing that space could not propagate sound waves, for if they did, his scream would have been heard all over the galaxy.
The End.