Chapter 17
Beacon

“Oops.”

- 3347 E.C. While attempting to recover the M-Net hub on Equestria Prime, the central node shatters, triggering a full-scale network collapse. The remaining colonies are cut-off from all communication and thrust into an information dark-age. Two-thirds of modern knowledge is lost.

It was early the next morning, by the time that Tickintime had the Bandit spaceworthy. My offer to help with the repairs was rejected, pushed to the side as the mare enlisted the help of some truly bewildered techs who were just unfortunate enough to wander by while Tick was outside the craft. It wasn’t that I wasn’t capable, she told me, it was just that she already had her mouth full with managing the techs, and she couldn’t spare the attention.

I figured it was her polite way of saying that she didn’t want to babysit me. I took it in stride, and decided to run errands elsewhere.

One trip down to the commercial district later, I was quickly enveloped in the retail scene. My first stop was to purchase a few more flightsuits. This was sort of mandatory. In a marvelous spell of bad luck, the cleaner from the new apartment decided to eat my suit instead of clean it, leaving it with more holes than a block of swiss cheese. So, I had to purchase a new suit to replace it, and, knowing my luck, I made sure to get extra. The clerk behind the counter gave me an odd look when I explained my request, but she seemed to understand, so I ended up walking away with several spares in tow.

On my next stop I hit up one of the entertainment vendors for some holos to watch on the way over, as well as a short jaunt to a grocery store to pick up more rations and even some fresher supplies now that we had a working refrigerator. I stuck with edible raw greens for the most part. I couldn’t cook worth shit, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to bring any kind of burner on board.

My last stop was at a tech shop to have my WAND looked at. Sadly, the repairpony was sick for the day. Frustrated, I made my way back to the ship with the new purchases.

Tick had just finished repairs by the time I had finished getting all the new supplies loaded onboard. All patched up and mostly operational, the Bandit looked about as healthy as it ever had, minus an antenna or two. I had a short conversation with Tick about what exactly she had repaired. Most of it went over my head. Sadly, the drones were still offline. Internally I wondered if that was ever going to get done. A short while later, Nightshade showed up, and he brought a surprise.

“Whoah! Is that what I think it is?” Tick exclaimed, practically bounding toward Nightshade as he made his way down the platform. Trailing behind him was a square little machine that I recognized as the ClockDoc he’d used on me on so many weeks ago. It followed unsteadily in his wake, seemingly distracted by every pony that seemed to wander a little too close.

“Maybe, although if you’d actually explain what you’re thinking, I might be able to answer you.” Nightshade smirked and glanced in my direction. Something about him struck me as off. I stared for a few moments, trying to place it, until the glint on his forehead caught my eye.

I blinked. “You have a WAND,” I stated as he approached me. I took a moment to appreciate it. It was a brown, boxy thing, larger than your average WAND and shaped like it would comfortably slide down over the eyes like a pair of goggles. Despite its size, however, it didn’t look unwieldy, instead it moved easily with the rest of his head, almost as if it had no weight at all. My own WAND chose that moment to start an itch on my scalp that I had no hope of scratching.

“Obviously,” Nightshade replied with a grin. “I was feeling left out with all of you flaunting your own, and if we’re going to keep getting into trouble like this then I might as well bring my full kit.” His wand glowed with an almost imperceptible aura, and in a smooth movement Nightshade drew a pair of pistols from his saddlebags and spun them in the air with a flourish. I had all of about two seconds to look at them before he put them away again, nestling them in a pair of side holsters that fit just behind his withers. “I also brought the Doc just in case we need to synthesize any more antidotes. I get the feeling that we're probably going to need it going forward.”

“And a full-service medical kit,” Nightshade said with a smirk. “Just don’t mess with it, I’ve had to make a few modifications.”

“Good girl,” Nightshade chuckled. “By the way, Horizon, Jess said she would be right along, something about preparing for the worst.”

I later learned that she was loading up on more of her show for the trip. Don’t ask.

I nodded “As long as she doesn’t take too long, it’s fine, I guess,” I said. “Tick told me we’re good to go anytime. Isn’t that right, Tick?”

“Yeeup! All patched up and ready!” She replied happily, patting the ClockDoc with a hoof. The machine beeped in response, probably in irritation. Ugh, great now I'm starting to think they have personality. Thanks, Tick.

Nightshade nodded, and then moved the Doc onto the small loader for departure. I helped a little where I could, but between Nightshade's freakish earth pony strength and Tick's TK, the most I could do was course correct.

We stuck around for another hour until Jess finally showed up, smiling to herself like she had a big secret that she couldn’t wait to share.

“There you are, I was beginning to think we would have to leave without you.”

“What, and miss the party? Never.” Her WAND lit up and she levitated a small bag out of her pack, “I did manage to figure out how to fix my WAND, however. Think you can use these spare parts?” The bag opened and Jess slid out a few new fuses in mint condition. “I had a chat with one of the techs and he said that the power surge may have blown out some of the regulators protecting the memory. He cracked mine open and installed it, and now it works like a charm. I brought spares in case the rest of you needed them as well.”

Tick eagerly took them in her TK with a glint in her eye. “Awesome! Mine’s been busted too since our last outing, I’ll give it a shot later once we’re all settled.”

“Think you could fix mine too?” I asked Tick, a smidgen of hope rising in my chest. Dealing with with my WAND’s data problems was starting to drive me mad. If she could help...

“Yeah! Sure! I’d be happy to take a look at it,” Tick said a little too quickly, a slightly manic gleam surfacing in her eyes. Part of me began to fear for my safety.

I coughed uncomfortably. “Great. So, uh. Time’s a wastin so let’s, uh, get going," I said, putting as much distance as I could between myself and her.

We all made our way to the transfer plate, and from there the Bandit. “Nice speech,” Nightshade chided as we waited for the others to take their turn.

I had just settled into the hot seat and kicked on the power to the thrusters when I got a ping from the tower on the C-Band. Taking a bet as to who it was, I opened a line and braced for snark.

“This is the Scrap Bandit,” I said as I idly waded through the rest of my pre-flight checklist. I had just finished with the control board sequences by the time the they responded.

“We see you’re powering up, Horizon. Heading out already?” It was one of the tower bucks. Fortune, if I placed the voice correctly.

I smiled, remembering the drinks I’d had with them a short while ago. “Yeah, gotta chase that next bit, you know how it is.”

Fortune laughed. “Do I ever! Command has us pulling double shifts until our NCO comes back from vacation. It sucks, but eh, I can always use the extra bits. Well, wherever you're headed, be sure to tell us all about it when you get back; I can't wait to hear about what shit you land in next. Fly safe out there.”

“Thanks tower, I will.” The line closed with a pop. Leaving me in relative silence as the rest of the ship woke up and added to the general ambiance of the shipboard systems. I took a deep breath and smiled, enjoying the peace while I finished my list and prepped for departure.
I was just about ready to release the docking clamps, when the console beeped again with another hail, this one from a source I didnt' recognize.

I frowned, “Seems like I’m popular today,” I muttered, and then punched open the line. “This is the Scrap Bandit.”

It was Fritter. “Oh! Good! I caught you before you left,” he said. In the background I could hear music and the general murmur of ponies talking.

“Uhp, sorta? not really. I’m at a club over in the e-district—It’s not important, but if you’re not busy after this dispatch, I was wondering if I could call in that favor you owe me.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What kind of favor are we talking here?” I said warily.

“What? Oh, nothing too bad! Honest! I just need you to pick up my wife and kid from the Core once you’re finished.”

I blinked twice. “Hang on, you’re married?” More importantly, he reproduced?

“No!” At least I don’t remember him telling me. No, I’m pretty sure he hadn’t.

“Yeah dude! It’s been pretty sweet too. My wife’s great, even if our work keeps us separated a lot.”

“Not really,” Fritter replied. “She’s part of a retinue of about forty ponies. All she does is take notes all day. Anyway, her assignment is up and we’ve been talking about having her come out to see me here in the Rim while she’s on leave, so I was hoping that you could go pick her up for me? It’d save us a lot of money on hiring a shuttle,” he said.

Barring any external damage, I didn’t see why not. I still owed him anyhow, and it sounded simple enough. Easy, even. I mean, certainly there were worse things he could have requested.

“Of course!” Fritter said excitedly. A few seconds later my WAND chirped. Well, tried to chirp, it sounded more like an electronic groan. Worried that it might have corrupted the data, I checked the dispatch, and, to my relief, everything looked to be in good order.

“Awesome! Thank you so much Horizon! You have no idea how much this means to me,” Fritter said.

The first half of the trip took the majority of the day. Our heading was generally east, deeper into the galactic spiral and far outside of any known civilization. Why anypony would wind up out here was a mystery to me. While the gallant explorer might pick up a few bits prospecting for resources, there were far too many black holes out here to make it truly worth the risk. For safety’s sake, I made sure to load up on all the most recent star charts during the down time, so that by the time we hit the M-Net line, I had, at least, a decent idea of how to keep us from accidentally jumping into a dead star’s kill-zone. The scanners would help with that too, but I wouldn’t bet my life on anything connected to the Bandit, repairs or not.

Past the M-Net line, Jess took over piloting to give me a break. I took it gladly, making sure to score a short, if painful, nap on my couch along with a quick bite from one of the fresher rations while they still kept. I had a nice salad, with dried cranberries and a couple apples on the side, fresh from production. Or at least what I could get to my mouth. My WAND’s TK still wobbled horribly, and I ended up dropping some of my apple slices onto the deck. I died a little inside. Those apples were damn good. Grumbling, I finished the rest manually and cleaned up the mess from the some of the dressing that had gotten on the floor. When I had finished, I set about trying to find Tickintime, determined to put this WAND fiasco to an end. I found her in the cargo hold, working on yet another project.

The mare in question looked up, a fresh smear of grease lining the side of her face. How it got there when she was using magic to hold everything I had no clue. “Yeah! Sure, what’s up?” she said.

“I was hoping you’d take a look at my WAND,” I said, nudging the device on my forehead with a hoof. It shifted in place and caught on a coat hair, painfully yanking it out of my coat as it moved. Thanks a lot, you piece of shit.

Tick didn’t notice my pain. Her expression brightened at the prospect of futzing with a piece of expensive hardware, however. My eyes locked on the length of pipe she was levitating beside her. Why did she have a length of pipe? What could she… oh, forget it. “Oh! Right!” I winced as the pipe suddenly dropped, hitting the deck with a loud clang. Tick didn’t care. Her horn still glowing, her aura resolidified around my head and I felt my WAND lift, the buckles effortlessly releasing as the device came off my head. It floated across the space between us as Tick floated over out some of the fuses Jess had brought before, and started looking it the WAND over.

Her eyes flicked across its surface with a searching, almost clinical expression as she turned the WAND over in her magic. After a moment, she whistled. “You know, now that I’ve gotten a better look at this thing, wow, this thing is really old. I mean, like, I don’t even recognize the model, old, and I’ve seen a few in my time.” She kept turning it over in her TK, examining it from all sides. “There’s no model number or anyth—ew.”

Tick recoiled, pulling out a clean-ish rag from her toolkit and hastily wiping the inside of the forehead and earpiece. “Much better,” she sighed, and then leveled a low-intensity glare at me, “You don’t take very good care of this thing, do you?”

I shrugged, “I haven’t been able to find many replacement parts for it, if that’s what you mean. It’s a hand-me-down. It belonged to my dad, and his dad,” I stopped to think, “and his dad…”

Her face scrunched as she stopped me with a hoof. “I get it. You’re using an antique. Still… even if it is old, there should at least be a model number.” Tick frowned as she continued turning it over. “It looks like it could use a good polishing too. Ah! There’s the access panel.” Part of the backplate of the WAND peeled off revealing the devices insides. Then, one of my secret horrors unfolded before me.

It took a lot of willpower not to cry out when one by one, parts started flying out from my WAND’s insides and into the air around Tick’s head. As they flew by the mare briefly glanced at each of them and then added them to the ever growing, disorganized cloud that was assembling around her, stopping only when she came to the focusing gem itself.

“Something wrong?” I asked, warily eyeing the part-nado surrounding her and silently giving my WAND Luna’s last rite.

Tick tilted her head, scrutinizing the stone while various parts made their way back into my WAND, freshly cleaned, I realized by the floating rag in her TK. She lifted the gem up to eye level, and then gave me a weird look.

“What kind of focus is this?” she asked, lifting the stone a few more inches in my direction, “It sure as hay isn’t Topaz.” The gem gleamed yellow-orange in the ship’s lighting, maybe even closer to a shade of gold, if that was at all possible. Outside of its inset, it held a sort of inner light, weak enough to avoid casting shadows, but strong enough to be noticeable even within comfortable lighting. I liked it. It sorta matched my eyes, even if it was probably something stupid like Sulphur. I made a mental note to avoid dropping it in a dryer anytime soon. “You said your WAND was a family Heirloom?” Tick asked.

“It shows,” she said, setting the stone aside and starting her work the rest of the parts. “I’ll polish the gem and inset. They might be old, but they seems like they're still in really good shape. Once I get the contacts clean and shiny, it should work like new,” she shrugged, “well, mostly new,” she amended. “Jess’ tech was right about the fuse problem—I fixed mine earlier. Yours needs them too, but it also needs a little more TLC,” She paused, pulling several parts down from the cloud and frowning at them, “and maybe a few more up-to-date parts. I mean, not to say these are bad parts or anything! In fact, these actually look like they’re rated for some pretty high power values, it’s just the problem with the-” she blinked. “I’ve lost you, haven’t I?”

I nodded sheepishly. All this tech jargon, maybe if I had enough time to study I'd be able to keep up with it, but on the fly, she might as well have been speaking Japonese.

Tick rolled her eyes and sighed. “Figures. I’ll need a few minutes to finish with this. Till then, shoo!” She scooted me toward the door with a wave of her hoof. I took the hint before she started forgetting what went where and scooted out to wait in the living area until she was done.

I spent the wait in the living area, splayed out on the couch with nothing to do. I had already slept so I still had plenty of energy, which meant that sleeping was pretty much out. Briefly, I entertained the idea of watching something on the holo, but decided against it. Watching a movie by myself felt kinda lame when everypony else was keeping busy. So instead, I was equally lame and just waited like I was at the doctor’s office. After sitting there for nearly an hour, I had just gotten up to stretch a little when Tick finally walked in, my WAND floating in her TK and shining like it was brand new.

“All done!” she announced with a big smile. “Try it out!” She gently floated it to me. I took it, and, turning it over in my hooves, strapped it on. With a short tug and a click, it settled into place with an almost organic sensation. It felt weird. Whatever magic she had done, she had fixed the buckle. Now it the damn thing fit like it should have. Snug, but not too tight, and not too loose either. Just right.

“No, but you’ve got a unicorn,” she replied with a smile. Her horn glowed green and the air in front of me rippled into my reflection. Now that’s gotta be convenient. Maybe I should have been born a unicorn. Well, maybe not. I wouldn’t trade my wings for anything.

My WAND looked great. The casing gleamed like it never had before, and the gem looked fantastic. If I thought it was nice and clear before, I was wrong. It absolutely shined now, cleaned of whatever film had grown over it over the years. Tick was right, I really had been slacking on my maintenance.

I ran it through a quick diagnostic, and was satisfied to see the text back to normal. Well, mostly. There was still an odd bug here or there, but it didn’t seem to have any trouble levitating things anymore. It also seemed to work much, much faster, so that was a bonus.

“Perfect. Thanks Tick,” I said. I meant every word. I don't know how much longer I could have put up with its quirks.

My smile fell. “Brace for nausea,” I said, looking up in the general direction of pilot's cabin.

Six more jumps. Six more hours. We all settled back into our routines for the rest of the trip. Past the M-Net line, Nightshade stopped whatever it was he kept doing on the comm suite and contented himself to doing exercises in the cargo bay while Tick took her project elsewhere. I debated joining him. Luna only knew how out of shape I was becoming with how little flying I had been doing over the past few weeks. Just the thought of it was making my wings itch, or maybe that was just the wing sheaths. It’s hard to tell when you’ve worn them as long as I have. We were two jumps away from our destination when Jess got on the horn.

“Horizon, would you come up here, please?” she said, her voice crackling over the comm.

I opened a channel on the S-Band with my WAND. “Yeah, I’ll be right up,” I said as I clambered off the couch and started off toward the ladderwell. Less than a minute later, I was walking through the door to the pilot’s cabin.

“All right, Jess, what’s the problem?” I asked, glancing over the scene. Jess leaned around the chair to look at me, and waved me over with a nudge of her head. I complied, glancing down at the control board for issues.

Jess turned back to the board, her WAND alight as she flipped various switches in prep for the next jump. “No, problem, I just wanted your opinion on something. Check it out.” She motioned toward the comm suite indicators. “I’ve picked up a signal, it’s faint, but it’s also strong enough to home in on if we get a little closer on our next jump. It’s only a little way out of the way.”

I glanced at her, chewing the inside of my cheek. “Do you think it might be our convoy?”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure. The signal is pretty weak and at this distance it’s just a blip. Want to get closer?”

One jump. Well, that shouldn’t take too long. “Why not,” I said, “if we get closer and we can safely determine what it is, then I don’t see any reason not to. Just don't put us right on top of it just yet.”

Jess smiled, leaning forward in the chair and looking back at the controls. “That’s what I was hoping to hear,” she said, punching up the Sparkle Drive.

We jumped in short order. The discontinuity washed over me like a mild hangover. As my stomach settled, the sensors started making noise again.

I checked the source. The scanner was mercifully empty—take that, Ping!—but the comm suite was going nuts. A weak signal was broadcasting a short distance away, still garbled, but now that we were closer to it, I could at least see what frequency it was on, and I could think of only one thing that reported on that frequency. We were picking up a distress signal.

She glanced at the panel, and checked something with her WAND before looking up at me, a frown tugging at her lips. “Yeah. What do you want do about it?”

They warn you in flight school that civilians should never respond to distress calls. Rather, you should contact the authorities and have them deal with it instead. It saves you time, keeps the police employed, and also keeps you alive. As fun as it might be to play hero to some unfortunate soul, there was a huge risk involved: Pirates. Pirates. Loved. Beacons. After all, what better way to lure an unsuspecting victim than a distress call? And what was more, unless you had a robust Sparkle drive, once you made the decision to jump, you weren’t going anywhere. It was a design flaw that worked perfectly in their favor. If we jumped in to play hero and something nasty was waiting, we’d be dead or worse. I had no confidence in the Bandit’s combat capabilities. We might have been armed, but two small energy turrets was a pretty small stick compared to ships that killed for a living.

That wasn’t to say that you should never respond to a distress call, however. It’s one of those catch twenty-twos that fought between ethics and reason. Sure, you should probably contact the authorities, but would the authorities arrive in time? If it was a legitimate signal, did the survivor have that long? What if it was a vessel under attack? What if it was a victim of an attack? What if they simply had a damnable malfunction? What would I think if I were in their boots? That last question is the real stinger. If I was adrift in deep space with little hope of rescue, of course I would want somepony to rescue me. The odds of actually being randomly found in space were astronomically low, especially with as weak of a signal as the one we were getting. And if you’re like me and you only have twenty-four hours on your air talisman, your chances of survival might not even be calculable. Not in your head, anyway. In any case, logic would have to prevail.

This signal was weak, and off the grid. If we went to investigate and it was a trap, we wouldn’t have any backup within calling range, but the idea of it being a trap also seemed a little far-fetched to me. We were literally out in the middle of nowhere. No reasonable traffic would come this way, which meant it would be a real shitty place to set up a mousetrap, unless of course you were determined to lose cheese. Still, we could at least listen to the signal.

“Might as well listen,” I said, hooking into the feed with my WAND. I winced as a piercing shriek of static blared in my ears while I dialed it in. I kept adjusting the signal until it was finally coherent enough to get most of the message, if broken up by the bursts of static it was fighting through.

“...message repeats. Critical distress... name is Es... -SRS Hightower. My crew and my ship... attacked by pirate... destroyed…-upplies... gone… feels like weeks. If anyone… please respond. Coordinates are…”

I wasn’t liking what I was hearing. The buck on the line sounded more defeated than desperate, less like he was hoping for rescue and more like he was simply repeating the words to hear himself talk. It was the sound of somepony waiting for death, and that sent a chill through me that made my wings quaver. I listened to the message again and again until I got all the coordinates he’d been repeating and then cut of the feed. Doing a little head math, I checked them against the ones I had received from Fritter. They were awfully close to our destination. I needed a second opinion on this, although, if I was a betting pony...

“What do you think, Jess?” I asked, my expression grim. From the way her eyes were focused, I figured she must have been listening too.

Jess looked thoughtful for a moment, glancing at the control board before returning her attention to me. When she spoke, she had a sort of cold professionalism about her. “I think it’s unusual that pirates would lay any traps out here. No one flies out here regularly so it wouldn’t be practical for hunting targets. They would have to wait for too long, and I doubt they’d get from killing explorers would pay for the cost of their supplies. My gut tells me this one is legitimate. He might be part of that convoy.”

“That’s about what I thought too." I said, nodding. And then, after taking a deep breath, "Fuck it. Let’s help this poor bastard.”

“This is Horizon Seldat of the Scrap Bandit, transmitting on a secure line. We are responding to your distress call. Please respond.”

We waited in the relative silence of the pilot's cabin, listening to the low crackle of the radio as I tried again to hail the source of the distress signal. The others had crammed inside the cabin, hovering around the console and waiting quietly for the pony to reply. The silence dragged on and on. When the buck finally started speaking again, it was to repeat the same message he'd been broadcasting since we had first picked it up.

“This is Horizon Seldat of the Scrap Bandit, transmitting on a secure line. We are responding to your distress call. Please respond,” I repeated.

I frowned. It was plausible. It could have been that his comms were damaged when he was attacked. The signal strength certainly supported that theory. Maybe there was a problem with his receiver? There were too many uncertainties, with that theory, however. “I don’t like it,” I said.

“Well, like it or not, we’re going to be right on top of him on our next jump,” Jess said from the controls. “The drive is just about ready. Last call to change your mind.”

I shook my head. “To be honest, I have no idea. The transmission was too garbled to make everything out, but it sounded like it might the captain of our convoy.”

Nightshade arched an eyebrow, “really?” His voice was flat enough to land on.

“You do know that most captains in the NSR are nobles, right?” Nightshade said.

“What’s wrong with nobles?” Tick asked with the barest hint of a tremor in her voice.

Admittedly, I didn’t have much contact with nobles in my position. L6-C didn’t have many, and what few that we did have were usually visiting dignitaries, or some extremely rich pony checking on their investments. Wait long enough in the queues, however, and you’re bound to pick up on some of their traffic. Prism dealt with them more than I did, and probably Jess, given her choice of occupation. Me? I was just somepony in their way. The last time I met a noble on L6-C, the snob bumped into me in a hallway and called me several very unimaginative names. We had a junkyard-esque discussion. He got a black-eye. I got arrested, and then I got dropped off on the way to the station with a pat on the shoulder and a hoofbump.

Of course there was also that time with MegaMillions, but she’s just a rich cunt, so she doesn’t count. Suffice to say, my opinion of nobles wasn’t exactly good.

“What isn’t wrong with nobles?” I told Tick, and before she could form an answer I barrelled onward, “They’re rude, entitled, stupid-”

Jess joined my momentum, trading off with me as we listed insults, “Arrogant, cheap,”

Nightshade said nothing, content to look amused while wearing his damnable grin.

I shook my head. “Nah, it’s not a problem. We’ve just had some bad experiences, that’s all.” I’d had enough close encounters with Karma too. Enough to know that I wasn’t being fair, I sighed, “I’m sure there’s probably some other ponies out there who don’t fit the mold, but still, most of them are assholes.” Funny how Karma always tended to favor the rich. Idly, I wondered if it could be bribed. Well, even if this pony did end up being a noble, we wouldn’t find out until we picked him up, and if I was in his horseshoes...

Jess nodded and punched the button. The sparkle drive charged and flashed. It was time to see if the lion was home.

“We’re on grid.” Jess said as she rechecked the control board. “And we’ve got objects in space near our position. Hang on a second and I’ll get us aligned.”

The ship shuddered as the maneuvering thrusters fired, inching up our view of the surrounding space through the cabin’s viewport. Slowly, the stars outside sank down in the window and I squinted into the dark of space to try and make out what we were looking at.

Nightshade nodded, and then reached over to turn off the cabin lighting so we could see more clearly.

“What? what is it? I can’t see!” Tick said, trying to peek out the viewport from behind Nightshade.

It was a sight of pure, unadulterated carnage. Some ships had been fighting here, alright, and from my count, not many made it out. It looked like something out of a war flick. Glinting dimly in the light of distant stars, several ships floated dead in space, so thoroughly blasted apart by weapons fire that I could hardly tell their armor from their superstructure. Pieces of the ships had been messily sheared off, the debris scattering so far as to blend with the nearby wrecks to the point where I couldn't tell what belonged to which. By my estimate there were at least two, maybe four ships here, but where one ship stopped and another began was impossible to tell.

Smaller things glinted in the light too, scattered among the debris cloud. With a sickening realization, I realized what they were pony shaped.

Bodies. So many bodies. Smaller cylindrical pods had been blasted apart further from the wreckage, the remains of escape pods, if I could have hazarded a guess. Among them, frozen, bloated pieces of ponies floated in the empty space between them. I felt bile rising in my throat at the sight. Whoever had done this, they had made sure there were no survivors.

There was at least one. Part of me had a very bad feeling about this, but we were already committed. Whatever happened next, we’d have to live with the results.

“This is awful.” Tick breathed, staring at the wreckage in unabashed horror.

“No kidding,” Jess said, a grim expression on her face. “I’ve seen pirate attacks before, but this is a new low. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything this… thorough,” she nearly spat the word. I didn’t blame her, it left a bad taste in my mouth too.

“And somewhere in all this, there’s a pony.” I swallowed as Jess fired up the thrusters, taking us into the wreckage. I looked away from the scanner in time to see us pass a blasted escape pod and the dead ponies within. “Somewhere,” I repeated under my breath.

Steeling myself, I set the scanner to active and got to work, falling into an age old rhythm. Finding something valuable inside wreckage was my job. I’d done it for years, and regardless of the carnage, I did it now. With a little focus, I became detached, ignoring the bodies and focusing more on the ripped superstructures of the ships before me. Details started coming to me as I switched between what I could see, and what the scanners were reporting.

Fire control system here, ruined. Life support there, unsalvageable. Access corridor, still occupied. For a moment I thought I saw movement inside a portion of deck that looked like a barracks, but it was just a pile of floating scrap metal. I ignored it and moved on, discarding the detail like the rest I didn't need. I went through the same process for each destroyed vessel. Scanning, searching, and ignoring anything that didn’t look useful. Very little of what I might have been able to bring back would make good salvage, and without the drones, I really had no hope of bringing it back intact. I frowned. This wouldn't be a good salvage run by any measure. Hopefully, Fritter's contact could come through with the money for the info.

I double checked the scanner. It found a strong hit on the ship's underside with a faint energy signature. “I think I’ve got it.” I said. “signal source, two clicks at two o’clock. Underside.”

“Roger.” Jess said, kicking the thrusters on and moving us down and around the wreck. We trundled forward, overtaking a wasted chunk of unuseable ship while smaller bits and pieces bounced off the hull. I kept a sharp eye out for the more dangerous chunks, just in case. Within a few minutes, we had rotated around, and were staring into the gaping ventral cavity of a dead starship.

I squinted, trying to pierce through the dark side of the ship as I searched for anything that could transmit, and then spotted it. A large spherical pod floated intact amid a split piece of ship wreckage, wedged between a pair of beams that had bent from several impacts. I pointed. Jess nodded and swung the spotlights on point. I frowned.

It was somepony’s sick joke. On the outside of the pod some asshole had welded the words “Roxie was here” into the escape pod’s armor plating. What was worse, was that the ‘o’ was framed directly over the hatch. There would be no recovering it from that direction. I tried to gauge its size and determined that the pod might be just small enough to fit through the cargo scoop.

“Hey Tick, how fast do you think you could clear out the cargo hold if you had help?” I asked.

“You’re thinking of scooping it, aren’t you?” Jess said, looking back at me.

“I don’t think we’ll be getting into it any other way, and there’s no telling if the pony inside has a suit or not, and the drones are still out of order.” I really needed to get those fixed.

Ten minutes was an underestimate. It took us fifteen to clear the cargo hold and another ten to prep the scoop. Once Tick fixed a last minute air leak on the hatch, we were set. We flushed the air from the cargo hold and set the scoop to active. Jess did the rest. I headed up to the cabin to watch her work.

Jess glanced back at me as I entered. I gave her the nod, and she started to trundle up the engines. As she worked, I opened up a channel on the S-Band to signal Nightshade who had volunteered to work the turret. “Alright Nightshade, we’re ready here. Shake it loose but don’t hit it.”

The ship trembled. Several flashes of light struck the wreckage beams where the beams were holding the escape pod. It shifted from the pounding, the steel beams glowing redder and redder until finally one of the beams gave in and came loose, dislodging the pod and sending it gently rolling into open space.

Jess didn’t need a signal. As soon as the pod was free, we trundled forward toward it. I turned my attention to the capture monitor. A box with a crosshair marked our target, which wavered back and forth as Jess adjusted our trajectory. We had to be careful. If we captured too fast we risked destroying the pod and damaging the ship, or worse, missing it entirely and pasting whoever was inside against our hull. Jess handled it like a pro. Even as we rapidly closed the distance, she stayed completely on target. I would have been impressed under different circumstances. Then again, it was technically a basic skill.

“And, capture!” I called out. The ship jolted as the pod entered the scoop. I closed the hatch and turned from the controls, eager to get downstairs. On my way, I passed Nightshade as he climbed down from the turret, and Tick, as she started moving piles of parts back inside the cargo hold. I followed her inside.

Up close, the pod was an ugly sight. It wasn’t untouched. It seemed to me that the same ship that had blasted apart the other escape pods had taken a few potshots at this one as well. Deep gashes sat in its armor plating where weapons fire had grazed it, as well as smaller, almost claw-like marks on the hatch exterior. The small window in the hatch had been blacked out, vandalized with with a slew of graffiti in a language I didn’t recognize.

I grimaced and snorted. “And not the good kind,” I said as I inspected the welding on the hatch joints. “I’ll go fetch a cutter. Could one of you grab some medical supplies?”

I moved over to where I kept my spare plasma cutters and pulled one out along with a spare charge. I priming the charge, I got to work. Can, meet can opener. A piercing squeal broke the air as I started attacking the weldings locking the hatch shut as well as the hinges that held it in place. It was short, easy work. After waiting a moment for the sides to cool, Nightshade braced on the other side of the hatch and with a heave, we pried it off its ruined hinges and dumped it on the ground with a loud bang. Tipping my head over the lip of the opening, I took a look at the pony inside.

He was still alive. That was good. From the way he had been transmitting, I feared that it might have been some kind of loop. Glad to know that I was wrong. The pony was a middling pegasus, probably in his early thirties, with a flame orange mane and a bright yellow coat. Despite his impressive coloring, however, he looked like a shitpile. His face looked gaunt, as he if hadn’t eaten in weeks and his color, while bright, seemed subdued. His clothing was in even worse shape. He wore what looked like an old military uniform, and on that note, a high ranking one. Half an epaulet dangled from his shoulders, severed by something sharp, while the rest of his white and gold uniform had torn near his wings and was smeared with filth. Flecks of dried blood surrounded gashes in his outfit near his chest and withers. The gashes looked suspiciously like claw marks. Resting just off of one of his shoulders and tucked neatly beneath one of his wings was an ornate scabbard, the pommel of a saber sticking out of it.

“Are you... real?” The pony asked. He squinted at us. Given his condition, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he couldn’t see at all. Faintly I could see his eyes, his irises holding the same flame orange as his unruly, tousled mane underneath the glint of a WAND on his forehead.

His WAND was incredible. I’ve seen nice WANDs before, usually on the heads of state, or very important government officials. This one took the cake. It looked like it was made of solid gold. A deep blue sapphire sat enshrined underneath a delicate working of woven gold vines, the resulting look resembling something more akin to a crown than a utility piece. If I had any doubt if he was a noble before, well, I had no doubts now.

“Yeah, we’re real.” I replied. I tried to smile. I think it came off as more of a grimace.

Whatever my expression, the pony didn’t seem to mind. He sat down heavily, the sheath of his saber clacking against the floor as he slumped in place. “Oh, thank Celestia,” he breathed. “I was worried I was starting to hallucinate once the pod started moving. Pardon my asking, but you wouldn’t happen to have any spare food would you? I’m afraid I’m a bit famished.”

“Definitely. Why don’t we pull you out of this can while we’re at it?” I said with a smirk. The pony nodded and limped weakly forward. Nightshade and I looped our legs around his barrel and heaved, lifting him up and out of the pod and setting him safely down. He seemed to deflate once he hit the ground, as if all the stress in the world had just left him. He sniffled, a little moisture entering his eyes before he swallowed, and a calm, confident, if weary, mask settled over his features.

The yellow pegasus took another deep breath, before he looked up gave me a warm smile, “I can’t thank you enough for this. I owe you more than my life.”

Something metal hit the ground and rolled. Several cans of medical spray rolled into view, trailing flecks of small bandages. I looked up to see Tickintime standing rooted in the doorway, significantly paler and staring at the buck with a look of sheer terror.

"Tick?" The pegasus said, and with a quizzical eye, turned his head, looking past me and toward the door. "Who..." he trailed off, his tired eyes squinting at Tickintime for a moment before he wiped them with his hooves and looked again. “No, way.” He said, dumbfounded. Then he snorted. Not an angry snort, the kind of snort you make when you’re trying and failing to stop laughing. “Goddesses alive! It is you! Hah! Gah!" The pegasus collapsed on the floor clutching his sides, but still laughing, "Damn it, it hurts!”

Tick stood rooted to the spot, her mouth working soundlessly, as she tried to form vowels that simply wouldn’t come.

“Uh, did I miss something?” Jess said, entering the cargo hold from behind Tick. She paused in the doorway, and then looked back at where Nightshade and myself were standing with the castaway.

“ESTOC?!” Tickintime shrieked at a volume that would leave my ears ringing for a while. If anything, her exclamation made the pegasus double over even harder.

“Know me? Hah!” the pegasus said between pained bouts of laughter, “I’d say she damn well should! She’s my fiancée!”

The statement hung in the air for nearly thirty seconds. Tick turned a shade of red that would have been at home in a rose garden. In a panicked fit, she rapidly started looking for places to hide, squeaking in the process. Finding nothing, she shrank, trying very hard to sink into the floor.

“Well, was my fiancée,” Estoc amended. “She… never told you who she is, did she?” The buck wore a smile like a colt who had just found a missing Hearth’s Warming present.

Tick brought her head up sharply and then shook it rapidly as if to cut him off.

"And here you are, still running," he said absentmindedly. "No longer." The smile he gave her was nothing short of predatory. “Consider us even.”

'Estoc' rose to his hooves, limped a short distance between us, and, with a clean turn, fluffed the tattered remains of his cloak with an air of practiced grandeur. “May I present to you, her Ladyship, Ms. Tickintime Aurora Clock. Heiress to the Clock family fortune, and first in line to succeed her father, Pendulum Clock, of Clockwork Industries.”

Clock. Where had I heard that before name before? It took me longer than I'm willing to admit to make the connection.

If my jaw could have hit the floor, it would have. No wonder she could afford all the parts she kept buying, she probably had a bank account the size of a station’s annual budget! Which also would also make her… oh, dear. I suddenly found myself regretting my earlier comments about nobles. A lot of things about her suddenly made sense, though.

Tick dumped bits like she didn't care. Buying parts for the Bandit, her projects, hell I was willing to bet she was also buying shit for her old job, excuse me, volunteer work on that asteroid colony. She was obviously intent on pursuing her special talent and had an almost creepy affinity for all things machine. Anypony else in that kind of position would be hard pressed to be that good at what she did that early, but her? Well, she certainly had the resources to get there. The realization was something of a blow to my self-esteem. Her special talent was her passion, and a hobby. Most ponies did things because they needed to put food on their plates. She did it because she could. She did it because she liked it. She had a sort of freedom that I could only dream of, and boy was I envious.

Now, I don’t know where the obsession with machines came from, maybe it was a byproduct of her upbringing in a family that literally drove most of the modern medical and mechanical innovations for much of the galactic machine. My best guess is that she had nigh exclusive access to the best and brightest minds in the industry for her entire life, and that enthusiasm blended into her special talent. After all, being around smart ponies tends to rub off if you're willing to apply yourself, and from how I'd seen her work, she certainly knew how to apply herself.

Whatever schooling she had, she had all the free time in the world to work on the things she liked, with no restraints on the cost of said things. Ever. No wonder she treated money like it didn’t matter. To her, it probably didn’t. Her volunteer work could probably be explained by the fact that she just enjoyed doing it. It didn’t explain why she was all the way out on the colony, however. It also didn’t answer the bigger question: if she was a noble, then why wasn’t she a huge bitch?

Truly, a question for the ages. And a question for later. Oh well, one mystery solved, another gained.

“Equestria to Horizon,” Jess said with a smirk, nudging me with a hoof. “Come in, Horizon.”

“Call it. We’ve lost him,” Nightshade said, “Time of death, oh-four-hundred hours.”

I recovered and gave both of them the best glare I could manage. All I got for it were a couple of grins.

“I imagine your father is probably still seething after you pulled that vanishing act on us. While I know neither of us were looking forward to our little arrangement, I’m sure you could have found a better way to say you weren’t interested.”

“Yes, I know. Believe me. Not even a week after my mother wed me off to a Stone.”

“As witty as her namesake,” The pony replied, “I fulfilled my obligation and sent her home.”

“How lovely for her,” Tick said with mock enthusiasm, “I do hope your arrangement hasn’t left her destitute.”

“It was a strategic victory for both of us,” Estoc replied in a clipped tone, "Much like another arrangement that I'm sure would have been far more preferable."

I cleared my throat in irritation. “If you’re done harassing my mechanic, could you please explain to me just who the hell you people are?” I said.

The pony regarded me with a surprised but tired smile and then drew himself up to his full height. “My apologies, I am Prince Estoc Morningstar of the New Solar Republic, first in line to the throne of House Morningstar, and also, greatly in your debt,” he said. It was hard for me to tell if the warmth in his voice was genuine. Given his position, it was probably practiced.

I worked my mouth into a smile. It took effort not to despise him on principle. He seemed a decent enough sort, even if a little petty. But, then again, I could be petty too.

“Charmed,” I said flatly. It was supposed to be warmer. I really suck at this.

“Did you say, Prince?” Jess said in shock. If I didn’t know better I would almost say she looked starstruck.

The pony withdrew a small signet from his coat pocket and shined it in the light. “I did indeed,” he replied.

“Why don’t we get you situated.” Nightshade interrupted, “You need meds and food. Thankfully, we’ve got plenty of both.”

Prince Estoc brightened “Food! Yes. Food would be wonderful, thank you. Celestia knows when I last ate.”

We let the buck eat in relative silence, not that we would have had much with any talking in the meantime. As soon as we put food in front of the poor guy, he threw his well-to-do manners out the window and dived in like a pro. He apologized later for it, of course, but the show was still entertaining. Apparently, eating like a pig is something so primal that you can't quite kill it with etiquette. Either way, the food had done him a world of good, and I could already see his color returning by the time we were ready to jump away from the convoy’s wreckage. I breathed a sigh of relief once we were out. I was worried about pirates when we had first jumped in. Now that we were away there was little chance of them finding us if they were, in fact, still in the area. We ended up stalling certain core systems in order to speed the drive’s cooldown and then headed back down to where the others were waiting.

The prince had settled in well enough. While he was still glancing at the couch and poking it uncertainly for other surprises, he looked healthier. He had stripped out of his tattered outfit, his yellow backside bearing the mark of a star and a long, thin sword. I figured—correctly, I later learned—that it was his namesake. Nightshade stood near him, winding a bandage around his midsection, having just finished administering what looked like a few healing salves on his other cuts and wounds, and was now tending to the pony’s wing. The prince did his best not to wince as Nightshade drew the bandages tight and set the pin.

Jess and Tick were off in the corner having a conversation when I entered the living area. They afforded me a small glance, but didn't stop their conversation, so I turned my attention to the new pony.

The prince raised a hoof to stop me, “Just, Estoc, is fine. I’ve had enough of titles for one lifetime, believe me. Anyone who is willing to save my life is my friend.”

“Estoc, then,” I corrected. “Just what the hell happened to you back there?”

“Yeah,” Jess cut in as she walked over with a reluctant Tick in tow, “I don’t think I’ve seen a pirate attack that bad before. How many ships were in your convoy?”

The yellow buck stopped a moment to think, “That is a bit of a complicated question, and I’m not exactly sure if my answer will satisfy you.”

“Well as to the second question, three, including my own. We were ambushed by a group of pirates on our way to our destination.” He frowned, “How they got the coordinates I have no idea, but I suspect treachery.”

“Three ships, how did the pirates avoid taking losses? Weren’t your ships armed?” Jess asked.

“Yes,” Estoc repeated, “We were outfitted for exploration, so most of the heavy armaments had been removed in favor of more practical equipment. We weren't prepared for combat against flagship and a combat escort. They tore us to bits. Of course it didn't help that they led with their damnable chromehounds."

"What's a chromehound?" I asked. It was the first time I'd ever heard of it, outside of a vague reference in a comic book.

Estoc smiled. "Indeed, well one of the native species was a sprite called a 'Timberwolf'"

"Laugh all you want. They were predators in ancient times. Beings of wood and enchanted sap. Dispersable, but hard to kill."

"Now replace the wood with steel." Jess said, looking greener than I remembered.

"Somehow the dogs tamed them, and then took them with them when they went to space." Estoc said, "and now they're the scourge of the universe."

"Yes," Estoc said, and then looked at Jess, "you look like a military type so you might recognize the name of their ship. The Sand Dweller.”

“My suspicion is that they were hired to kill me,” Estoc explained as a matter of fact. “Political assassinations are not all that uncommon from where I come from. Who would benefit the most from my death remains to be seen, however. I don’t know if I could even the count the number of enemies I’ve built up over the years. Either way, I have some investigating to do.”

“So what exactly were you doing, to bring you all the way out here?” I asked.

Estoc sighed. “I could ask you the same question,” he replied, “Although for my answer you would probably think me daft. I know plenty of my own ponies already do. We were searching for a ship that turned up somewhere out here according to my intelligence sources. Someone probably leaked our charts. What brought you out here? This area of space isn’t exactly on the beaten path, as it were.”

Seeing as he had narrowly escaped certain death, I didn’t see any harm in telling him.

“I got a tip from a friend that some convoy had disappeared out here. He had a client who was willing to pay for info on what happened to you.”

Estoc frowned, “That is troubling. Our route was supposed to be a secret, this just confirms that I have a leak within my own circle. At least that helps narrow my search for the responsible party.”

“That's nice, but you still haven’t answered my question,” I said. “Why were you searching for this ship?”

I crooked an eyebrow, “I’m pretty sure you can find those anywhere. Just point at a dot and jump.”

“No no,” he chuckled, “It’s an acronym. It stands for Stellar Transport and Reconnaissance Ship. Back in the last years of the Empire, three of them were commissioned, each equipped with the technology yet unseen since well before Collapse: The Star of Hope, the Star of Destiny, and the Star of Salvation. If I remember my history right, there was also a Star of Redemption, but it was never finished.”

Tick frowned. “What do you mean found? The Stars program never found anything. At least, not that I can remember. It’s been a long time since I took ancient history.”

Estoc’s smile soured. “Officially, perhaps, but the ships never returned, and if my hunch is correct, they were never intended to. I want to find out why.”

“The princesses,” he said, matter-of-fact, “they were trying to find out what happened to the princesses.”

“You’re right,” I said, “you’re crazy.” I turned to Jess and said, “He’s crazy.”

Nightshade coughed. “So let me get this straight. You came all the way out here, with an armed escort no less, chasing a fairytale? Why not just send an explorer?”

Estoc’s frown deepend, “You think I haven’t? I’ve sent ten. All of them disappeared. I have a strong suspicion that somepony has been working against me. But whom, I cannot fathom. Some were bought off, others destroyed, and more simply walked away.”

Estoc glared at him. It was a look that I was pretty sure was reserved for disobedient peasants. He then continued as if he hadn’t heard him. “I admit, I have shared your cynicism on previous attempts. I was about to give up hope until my last scout actually found one.”

Estoc grimaced. “That was what I was heading to the site to confirm. I am a student of history, I also had a team of historians accompanying me. At least until we were ambushed. Now... everypony is dead." He swallowed and breathed, before turning back to me. "Which is why, my dear captain, I would like to ask for your assistance. A favor.”

“No,” I responded instantly. He said my trigger word. Nope. Nuh-uh. Not gonna do it.

“Sorry. I’ve, had some bad experiences when doing ‘favors’ for other ponies." I took the opportunity to glare at Nightshade, while I could. He ignored it. "Let me guess, you want me to take you to those coordinates?” I asked Estoc.

“Yes. Goddesses yes. I want at least to know that my men didn’t die in vain.”

“Of course. It isn’t much further from here, actually, maybe a few more jumps.”

My eyes narrowed. I pulled up the coordinates I had received from Fritter and sent them to Estoc’s WAND. By the way he suddenly looked up, I guessed my message had transferred. “Are these it?”

His eyes widened. “No… but they were on our route. How did you come by them?”

“These were the first coordinates I was given to come looking for your convoy.”

“Did you say looking for the convoy?” Estoc said, his eyes suddenly narrowing.

“Yes? There was some mention of a ship as well, but I was told to go looking specifically for your convoy. My contact thinks the info might be worth something.”

As quickly as it came, the prince’s anger vanished, replaced by an almost unnaturally calm demeanor. “Apologies. It would appear my hunch was correct. I'll deal with it when the time comes. For now, please, take me to the ship.”

My WAND beeped. I had the new coordinates, and looked them over briefly. They were close, very close. It wouldn’t be much of a side trip. Setting my jaw, I made a decision.

“Alright, I’ll take you, but we’re only going to look. I’ve already been burned for exploring ancient ships, and I’m not about to repeat the same mistake. If there is something we can do from here, we’ll do it, but I won't make any promises. Okay?”

The Stars Beyond The Veil

by Charlemane

17 - Beacon