Our Little Homeworld

by Horizon Runner

1.3: Visionary

Time: 7:46 P.M.

Location: Research Ship XR-01, docked at Terminal 6.

The Research ship was more complicated than it might seem. The newly-built vessel was actually only a single portion of the whole design. Six such ships would be needed to complete the set, linking together to form a circular station capable of housing dozens of ponies and nearly as many different research projects, but one ship was sufficient for the limited research team.

The Mothership’s research team was only five scientists strong—plus one pilot—so far. When the Khar-Selim’s crew joined the fleet, that number would jump to about a dozen. When the Mothership returned to the Scaffold for its final stop, to load the Cryo-Trays and bring aboard the full ten-thousand pony crew, the research team would number forty ponies, all experts or prodigies in their fields. Even then, three or four of the six planned ships would be enough to house the whole team.

The layout of the vessel was a simple, two deck plan. The lower half of the wedge-shaped space was split between an engine room, a fairly conservative recreation area, and six double-bunked chambers—more than enough space for the current occupants. The upper deck was accessible via a short staircase near the engines and was composed mostly of a large meeting and planning area, complete with a conference table, wall-sized display screen, and holo-imager. Jutting off from there, above the quarters, were the cockpit, two labs, a pair of small restrooms, and a well-stocked kitchen. At the far sides, twin airlocks marked the ship’s primary docking ports. A great deal of storage space was tucked away at various locations, mostly in a large cavity beneath the lower deck. The ship’s vital systems were similarly scattered, though most were clustered near the engines.

There was little in the way of armor, nothing the way of arms, and the absolute basics in terms of engines. The reactor, a dwarf of a thing nestled next to the drives, existed mainly to power the sensor tower extending from beneath the cockpit, which was equipped with just about every kind of detector and scanner that had been invented in the last century. The Mothership’s sensors array had better range and power, but the research ship could take one look at an object and know its whole history. Once all six ships had been constructed, the combined power of their array would render the Mothership’s instruments obsolete.

It was a tad inelegant, but in a way that made it all the more beautiful. It was simple, yet exquisitely engineered to fit its purpose. The great tragedy was that, in all likelihood, the full design would never be completed. The research ship might still be an incomplete ring by the time the Mothership reached Equestria, and after that, it would probably be retired.

These thoughts were the reason that Rarity found herself gripped by a sense of profound melancholy as she stepped aboard her new home. This ship had been designed by somepony with a clear passion for their trade, and now its full form was simply going to remain on paper forever; artwork unfinished.

The intercom gave a bitter screech, forcing Rarity to shield her ears.

“Testing, testing, this thing on?” came a stallion’s voice—accented in a manner Rarity had never heard before. It was somewhere between an outland accent and an inner-city one. “Receivers should be up.”

Twilight Sparkle answered him. “We can hear you, Sunstone." She massaged her temples with a grimace. "You came on with a bit of feedback, though.”

“Gotcha. I’ll work on that. Y'all on board?”

Twilight glanced around. “I think so. Are you going to launch?”

“Check that. I’ll let you know if I need to do anything drastic.”

Rarity smiled. She didn’t really know why, but she liked Twilight Sparkle. It was something about the way she handled herself. There was a certain spark to her, an illogical charisma in her mannerisms and tone that contrasted with her—though Rarity would never speak it—somewhat plain looks.

Just… purple on purple? Not exactly eye-catching, though the magenta streak in the mane was a nice touch. Added a sort of subtle contrast to the composition. If Rarity only had access to some cosmetics… alas, the cruelties of space travel.

Regardless, the mare clearly didn’t trust her abilities. It wasn’t hard to understand; Rarity knew that she looked like an upper-class snob—and admittedly had spent a good deal of her younger life trying to become one—but she'd rejected that life long ago. Upper-class Naabali typically didn’t care much for anything beyond money and pleasure, and though she certainly wouldn’t have minded either of those things, she wanted a bit more than just that to come out of her life. Her passion was creation, and there was only so much magic you could work when you were being railroaded into a position as a banker or a politician. The Naabali prized artwork, of course, but artists typically came from outside the kiith.

Where was she? Ah yes, the research ship was launching. There wasn’t really a window to just look out of—there were portholes in the cabins, or in the airlock doors, but in both cases the openings were tiny and the walls thick enough to accommodate sliding blast shields. The view was, needless to say, sub par.

Then again, the view wasn’t really the point, was it? The mechanisms that had achieved the view were of greater interest, at least to Rarity. The view was something she could see any time, now that the ship was mobile. They could run circles around the Mothership, see every angle and inspect every solitary rivet if they so chose. They’d probably have time to do so, as well, what with the staggering lack of actual work to be done.

Rarity caught Twilight’s eye and motioned to the bags she was carrying. “I’ll just set my things down if you don’t mind, dear.”

Twilight nodded absently. “Rooms are below, things should be ready for you.”

She made her way to the lower deck and found that the rooms had already been assigned. Names were displayed on little LCD plaques above the rooms, with space for two names each. Rarity’s was alone, followed by a small rendition of the Naabalan Crest. Ponies nowadays said that it was a stylized circuit, but all that anypony really knew was that it was old, dating back to before the Khar-Celest had landed. It appeared in the ship's engineering section, and Rarity had heard that the current scholarly argument was that it was the marking of the ship's technicians. Appropriate, perhaps, back when Naabal was truly concerned with technology and progress, but out of place as the flag of the glitz-and-glamour kiith.

Looking at the other plaques, Rarity could see that each was decorated with a similar symbol. Expectedly, Twilight and Amethyst both shared the familiar S’jetti Crest—four orbs, two small and one big, all enclosed within the largest. It was supposed to be an old symbol, as old as the Khar-Celest itself, and represented the kiith’s origins as astronomers. It didn't match up with any orbital arrangement in the Kharequus system, but—as some televised scientist had once sarcastically put it, "It was never meant for this system anyhow." Given S'jet's mastery of the sciences, it was no surprise that the symbol featured prominently here. In fact, Rarity was a little surprised that it wasn’t on the ship’s hull. Then again, there were, as yet, only two S’jetti on the ship. There was no doubt that the number would increase dramatically soon, but for now it's was a multicultural breath of fresh air.

Next was Sunstone, the pilot whom Rarity had yet to meet. Next to his name was the LiirHra Crest: a pair of wings swept downwards above a curved horizon, meant to symbolize the kiith’s devotion to space travel. It was much more recently devised than most. LiirHra’s conception was scarcely more than a century ago, less than two decades before the Khar-Celest’s discovery. It was appropriate, then, that it was so deliberately symbolizing such a modern invention.

Lyra had the Manaani Crest, which was either a sand dune or a bird’s head, depending on how much you were squinting. Rarity had never been certain exactly what the symbol was. Either could refer to Manaan’s desert dwelling lifestyle and their nomadic traditions, so perhaps it was irrelevant. Manaani weren’t known for being scientists of any kind, but Manaani were known for constantly defying expectations and doing whatever they wanted. It wasn’t exactly out of place, just a little less expected.

When she caught sight of the name below Lyra’s, her mouth twitched a bit. Bon Bon and Lyra were sharing a room. To be expected, perhaps. It wasn’t particularly Rarity’s business to judge.

Then, she saw the symbol next to Bon Bon’s name. A simple, unembellished, upturned eye.

Rarity had seen it before, but on her life she couldn’t recall where. It was… alarming, in a way. She prided herself on her knowledge of Kharequuin culture, and she knew for a fact that it wasn’t the symbol of any of the particularly influential kiithid. There weren’t many kiithid these days that were small and independent. Most of those that were such were farming clans with a single homestead, somewhere remote enough that they simply lived the same way they had for generations. Many of those didn’t even have crests.

But this one was familiar, and she just couldn’t place it.

“Sagald,” said a voice from behind her.

Rarity nearly jumped out of her own coat. She whirled to find Bon Bon standing behind her, a slight smile on her face. “I saw you looking,” she said. “It’s all right. Not many ponies remember us these days.”

Rarity’s eyes widened as the pieces slid into place. “Sagald…? Oh, but… I do know that name. Oh… oh heavens, it truly is an honor!”

Rarity was scandalized that she’d hadn’t recognized the symbol immediately. Sagald’s effective influence was miniscule, but their impact on the current paradigm was quite possibly the most important in recent history. A century earlier, they’d been a tiny kiith composed of earth-pony scientists, affiliated with but not subservient to S’jet. It was their research that eventually uncovered the Khar-Celest.

But, Rarity reflected, there was a good reason she’d neglected to consider that Bon Bon was of Sagaldi descent. There were only thirty ponies who still bore Sagald’s colors. Kiith-Gaalsi had decreed them to be false prophets, and had acted on those words in their typical, brutish fashion. The fact that any of them remained alive at all was a testament to their strength and tenacity.

Bon Bon just shrugged. “It’s not really that big a deal, is it? It’s just a symbol to me, maybe some stories my grandmother used to tell.”

Rarity suppressed herself. Bon Bon was right; she was her own pony. Her family history might be impressive, but that was nothing to judge her by. “It’s still quite a legacy,” she murmured despite all of that. It was, after all.

“Yeah, but it’s just that. A legacy.” Bon Bon smiled, and her eyes wandered over Rarity’s mane for a moment. “Just out of curiosity… do you happen to know your grandmother?”

Rarity blinked in surprise. “Why… yes, I did. I loved her dearly. She was a seamstress. She taught me a great deal about the art before she passed.”

“How about the other one?”

Rarity tilted her head for a moment. “Well… to be frank, I’ve never met my paternal grandparents. Father didn’t much like talking about them.” She lowered her eyes and omitted the next comment: Not that father and I talk about much of anything.

“Ah.” Bon Bon’s eyes seemed to drift off into the distance. “That so, hmm? I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Well, like you said, what is in the past is in the past, is it not?”

Bon Bon chuckled. “In less elegant words, perhaps.”

Lyra appeared at the bottom of the stairwell. “Hey, Bonnie!” She called, hefting a wheeled suitcase. “I got the rest of the thingies.”

Bon Bon motioned her over. “I’m sorry to cut our meeting short, Rarity, but we should probably get started unpacking.”

“Oh yes, by all means. I should be doing the same.”

Bon Bon nodded her head and fell into step with Lyra. Rarity had to admit it; despite her biases, they made quite a cute couple.

Bon Bon paused at the doorway and shot Rarity one last glance. “By the way, a meeting is being called. Once you’re unpacked, I’d suggest you head up there and listen in. It seems Fleet Command wants some design work done.”

Time: 8:09 P.M.

Location: Research Ship Planning Area.

Rarity drummed a hoof on the conference table. “The Arrow-class reconnaissance fighter? Yes, I know of it.”

Great Journey, her visage imposed above the holoprojector, nodded slightly. “Then perhaps you understand the concerns of the squadron leader. She feels they are not adequate for the potential threats they could face.”

“Oh, I certainly agree that they’re not perfect.” Rarity slammed her hoof down. “There is a training sortie scheduled for today, is there not?”

“More of an airshow than an actual test, but yes.”

Rarity nodded decisively. “Then I will observe it personally and give my own verdict. I’m hardly perfect myself, but I should be able to spot any serious flaws.”

“Excellent,” Great Journey replied.

Rarity shifted her attention to the rest of the table. Twilight and Amethyst were both present, and both had strange, oddly tense expressions on their faces. “I’ll get to it, then,” Rarity said through the side of her mouth. “Thank you for the opportunity, Madame Journey.”

“Please, Rarity,” Fleet Command dipped her nose. “I’ll expect a report, but again, do not be too concerned with formality. I look forward to hearing back from you.”

“My pleasure as always, Great Journey.”

The holoprojector winked out, and Twilight Sparkle sucked in a breath. “You knew her.”

“Knew her?” Amethyst Star ground out through her teeth. “Sands on fire, you went to college with her? Hot damn, girl!”

Rarity stared back at them, uncomprehending. “She taught a course on arcanomechanics. I studied under her for a semester. It’s hardly anything to make a fuss about.”

“Hardly a… nope. Buck it.” Amethyst threw up her hooves. “I’m out. I’m downing at least half a bottle of that whiskey I smuggled in.”

Twilight clutched her head. “Oh, no. You brought sand-cursed whiskey onto the ship? Sands, Ammy! Do you not remember university?”

“Dulls the pain, cos. No amount of bad history is ever gonna change that.” Amethyst shrugged and stood up. “Anyway, if you want a shot or twelve, feel free to drop by my room. I’m guessing you’ve already got the silencing charms up.”

“Yes, just like high school.” Twilight grimaced. "And I am going to vehemently deny that drink."

“Suit yourself. I’m going to be blasting my jams, so you'll have to step into the storm if you want me.” Amethyst hesitated. “Think you’ll be doing anything that requires a weaponsmith, new girl?”

Rarity assumed Amethyst meant her. “I doubt it, but there is a chance.”

“Well, if you do end up needing a gun, I’ve got about twelve different models that are around the right size for a space fighter. I’ll put a file on the ship’s public mainframe, let you browse. I’m not working tonight, though, so if it’s anything more complicated you’ll have to see me in the morning.” She fixed Rarity with a glare so fierce it made her flinch. “Oh, and new girl? You don’t know how I work, so let’s get one thing straight: I don’t do missiles. Bullets are fine, and if you go for lasers, I’ll make sweet, passionate love to you on the spot, but missiles are right out, got it? Magical energy is more Twi’s thing and doesn’t really work that well anyway, and plasma is… plasma.” She shook her head. “Still can’t get that right, so don’t bother asking. Oh, and bombs are out too. In fact, if you’re stupid enough to unironically put dumb-bombs on a spaceship, I’ll frag you myself, save the hotshots the trouble.”

With that, she trotted off and headed downstairs.

Rarity’s jaw hung open, and she barely even reacted when Twilight put a hoof around her shoulder. “Welcome to my world, Rarity. Sorry, that’s just how she is. Getting to know her’s not going to help.”

“She likes lasers?” Rarity murmured. “Oh, that’s interesting. I wonder if…” She shook her head. “Right. No. Not right now, and before you say anything, dear, I’d rather not know if she was serious about the ‘passionate love…’ thing.”

“She probably wasn’t.”

“Good. I think I’d have had to turn that offer down.”

“Honestly?” Twilight murmured absently, staring at the stairs where Amethyst had vanished. “I don’t think she would have given you the option if she was serious. She… takes what she wants.”

“Hm. Interesting. Actually, disturbing. Anyhow…” Rarity blinked and shifted her attention to the large screen at the end of the table and turned it on with her magic. Twilight moved to the seat beside her, grabbing a digital notepad from a cabinet on the other side of the room.

The training session was a formality, really; the Mothership had two squadrons of reconnaissance fighters, making ten ships in total, all Arrow-class. The pilots had all been training for at least a year, and were all quite talented if one was to believe the official numbers. Rarity had no doubt they’d been inflated a bit, but they were high enough that even a grain of truth would be quite impressive.

But Rarity wasn’t looking at the pilots. She was looking at their fighters.

“The Arrow Mark-I,” Rarity explained solemnly, “Is the modern take on the first patrol ships designed for the Scaffold and Mothership. They’re small, fast, and agile, but they have all of the drawbacks you find in anything designed in the last two decades.”

Twilight looked away from the camera feed, puzzled. “Drawbacks?”

Rarity nodded glumly. “A trend started fairly recently. Most ponies who know about these things attribute it to the death of Sunset Shimmer.”

“Sunset who?”

Rarity fixed Twilight with a look that was positively blistering. “Good heavens, how can you not know? She was the mare who put together half of the Mothership’s original schematics! She’s a hero to engineers everywhere… eccentricities notwithstanding.” Her face fell. “Tragically, she lost her life testing one of the early prototypes for the neural interface Fleet Command now uses. A shame… she was truly a brilliant mare.”

“I see. So when she died… what changed?”

Rarity’s eyes hardened. “There was a loss of vision, I would say. Designs became more conservative, excesses were brutally excised, true innovation and experimentation were discouraged. Efficiency, efficiency, efficiency, and not one upgrade in a thousand bringing anything new! While Sunset Shimmer was leading development, there were leaps and bounds unheard of in history!” She sighed, lowering her eyes. “But now, it seems that fewer and fewer new inventions are being added to the repertoire. You must know the Mothership’s crew was supposed to be twenty thousand ponies, but now it’s cut to half that, all because somewhere, somepony is lining his or her saddlebags with the extra bits!”

“Ten thousand is still a lot of ponies,” Twilight pointed out. “Besides, it works, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, certainly! It works, all right.” Rarity grit her teeth. “Everything is delightfully, perfectly, adequate, but there are a hundred, no hundreds, of systems just… cut off from the rest of the ship! We were supposed to have a personal teleportation grid, personal matter compilers, miniature biospheres! Most of them are half-built, buried deep within the ship, hidden away. There is an acre of farmland on this ship! An acre! Of! Farmland! And we’re not using it, because it would have taken a few extra ponies to tend to it!”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “I believed you until you got to the ‘acre of farmland’ bit. There’s no way they actually—”

Rarity spun about and locked eyes with Twilight. “They uprooted it in pieces,” she said. “Taken from an uninhabited valley near the south pole. It was supposed to supplement the hydroponics bays and magi-factories as a source of fresh food. Currently, it is a barren expanse of dirt, hidden away within a sealed-off section of the ship. No air. No light. No life. Wasted.”

Twilight’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. “You’re serious.”

“Deadly, dear.”

Twilight opened her mouth twice before she could get any words out. “That’s… insane. How… how did that ever get approved?”

“Today, it never would,” Rarity answered. Her lips pursed into a grim line. “Whether it was worth it or not, we’ll never know for sure. The Mothership is full of such things, buried in metal and forever lost.” She sighed, shifting her gaze back towards the screen. “But, regardless, we do have an engagement. The pre-flight checks should be finished soon.”

She leaned forward, propping her elbows up on the table and clasping her hooves in front of her nose. “As I was saying, these ships suffered the same fate as the Mothership: adequacy. Let us see if these crooked Arrows still fly as straight as their mission requires.”

Comments

[Slaughterstone]

Plasma? Bombs? Plasma bombs!

[StormyVenture]

Well, that was an interesting inclusion. Poor Sunset...