Our Little Homeworld

by Horizon Runner

1.6: Stargazer

Time: 10:24 P.M.

Location: Research Ship XR-01 Planning Area.

Twilight Sparkle and Rarity watched the recording for the thousandth time. Twilight had memorized every detail, watched from a dozen different angles as each maneuver unfolded, from the first fighter’s spin-out to the impromptu atmospheric rescue. None of it was heartening, but at least the latter half proved that some of the ponies in those fighters were actually the genius flyers they were supposed to be.

She stopped the recording, and there was silence in the research ship. Amethyst had come and gone, drinking in the scene but making little comment. Lyra and Bon Bon were still absent, and Sunstone had gone off to sleep and left the ship’s automatic pilot in control. All was still, calm… and tense. Extraordinarily tense.

Rarity coughed lightly. “Well, it looks like things all turned out well enough, right? Nopony ended up dead, after all.”

Twilight clenched her teeth as she gave a curt nod. She wasn’t in the habit of worrying about these sorts of things, but this time the situation was just way too obviously screwed up. The idea that they might end up fighting something on their way to Equestria was highly improbable, but the idea that they wouldn’t be even slightly prepared for that possibility, regardless of probability, was… unpleasant.

Still, pilots aside—and at least one of them needed to be pushed extremely far to the side—the fighters seemed functional. Given the final display she’d seen, the two pilots who’d escaped burning up in the atmosphere by the tips of their tails, she had to say that they were impressive pieces of engineering.

She was still chewing over the marked contrast between the pilot who’d blown out her own engine and the ones who’d casually made history when Rarity spoke up. “All right then, I have an idea.”

Twilight looked at her, a wide, fake grin plastered over her face, and false enthusiasm laced throughout her voice. “Please! A good idea would be completely welcome right about now.”

“I just need to pull up the schematics…” Rarity moved to the holoprojector and opened up the database, oblivious to Twilight’s sardonics. “Hmmm… the Cavalier light corvettes… no, that’s a later worry. The Shield... why in Celestia's name do we even have that in our system anymore,,,?" Her eyes lit up at last as she found the correct file. "Ah-ha! Here it is.” She pulled up the schematics, and the projector came to life, setting them above the conference table.

Twilight took one look at them and let her jaw drop. “You can’t be serious.”

Rarity sat down and leaned back in her chair with a contented smile on her face. “Indeed I am.”

Twilight rubbed her eyes and blinked, as it if would change the impossibility which was on the screen. “The Blade? Let’s be clear, here: We’re talking about the fighter so dangerous that its test pilots were known as bomb jockeys.”

“Only because of overzealous engineering, dear.” Rarity paged through the schematics, shifting a 3D wireframe off to the side and pulling up 2D plans instead. “What I said earlier about the change in philosophy cuts both ways. The original designers tried to make this fighter capable of re-entry and atmospheric combat, as well as giving it an experimental drive system that didn’t require conventional fuel. Those two factors were the main reason it had to be scrapped in the first place—it was just impossible to make workable. The concept of a space-superiority craft with heavy armor and weaponry is a perfectly fine idea, and the Arrows themselves are based off of the original design for the Blade.”

“So, what would the benefit be?” Twilight asked, moving over and taking a seat next to Rarity. “The ships we have now are fine.” She shot an angry glance at the now blank viewscreen. “It’s the pilots that seem to be the problem.”

“Not entirely,” Rarity muttered. She did something to the keys, then shook her head slightly. “I must find out if we have a printer on this ship, and then I must be sure to link it to this terminal. Digital drafting is overrated.” She coughed. “Anyhow, the Arrow is quite a lightly armored ship, considering its size. It is equipped with twenty-millimeter autocannons—the standard caliber of pre-modern atmospheric fighters, with few real modifications to the firing mechanisms. Despite being a space-age fighter with stone age weapons, a single salvo from one Arrow can tear another Arrow in half. This is hardly ideal, especially considering that we do not know what—if anything—they will be up against. It's fairly reasonable to assume that most of the asteroids we find will be larger than twenty millimeters, to say nothing of hypothetical armaments.”

Twilight nodded. “So, you want to strengthen the armor? Why not just increase what’s on the Arrow?”

“If I only did that, the Arrow would be too slow to serve as a reconnaissance ship.” Rarity pulled a stylus from a slot on the table and began scribbling on its surface, watching the schematics update as she did. “Besides that, the rest of the Arrow’s specifications are hardly ideal for any kind of dedicated fighter role. There's very little in the way of redundancy, and the systems are just too delicate... No, we need to go further. Adapt everything in tandem and we shall achieve the perfect balance! We must not be afraid to use the failures of the past! We have learned since these broken Blades were forged.”

“First ‘crooked Arrows’ and now ‘broken Blades’?” Twilight groaned.

Before Rarity could respond, the communication terminal began beeping. Rarity pressed the answering button, and Great Journey’s face appeared above the holoprojector once more. “Hello, my apologies for calling upon you so late… oh, I see you are already at work.” She cocked her head slightly. “Did Spitfire send word ahead?”

Rarity mirrored the gesture. “I’m not sure what you mean, Miss Journey.”

“Never mind, it is of little consequence. I was asked to convey a request. The Alpha recon squadron leader wants you to tweak the design of the Arrow. She specifically said that she wanted the boost system removed, or, alternatively, that another type of fighter be produced for her squadron.”

Rarity gasped. “Remove that work of art? Sweet heavens!”

Twilight’s eyes widened in shock. “I’m not going to call it a work of art, but I have to agree with Rarity here, ma’am. The boost system was instrumental in the maneuvering that saved those pilots’ lives earlier… even if it did cause the problem in the first place. I can’t say I have experience with that sort of device, but I imagine it would be a useful asset, despite whatever risks it may carry.”

“Regardless, the squadron leader made it clear that she did not want her subordinates having access to the system, and given her reasoning, I quite agree. Can it be done?”

Rarity shook her head in disbelief. “Yes… well…” Then her eyes lit up. “Yes yes! Oh, this is excellent!”

“I’m… not sure I follow,” Twilight confessed. “What’s excellent?”

“The Blade, dear! The Blade!”

Great Journey raised an eyebrow. “The fighter so dangerous it’s pilots were nicknamed—”

“Bomb jockeys, yes yes, can we get over that, please?” Rarity stood and began pacing. “Oh, this will take some work, oh yes, but they’ll love it in the end! Ah HA!” She suddenly ran off, heading for one of the labs.

Great Journey shifted her attention to Twilight. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”

Twilight squinted at Rarity. “Maybe? I believe she thinks she can make the Blades work?”

“Fascinating. Do you think she can?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight replied. She shook her head and snapped to something that, if one squinted from at least a good five meters away, might have resembled “attention”. “That is… uh… I’m not certain, ma’am.”

“Come now, Twilight Sparkle, I think we’re a bit past that now. There’s no need for such formality.” Great Journey smiled a bit.

“Yes, yes, of course. Thank you.” Twilight swallowed uneasily as she smiled at the floating holographic head that represented one of the most powerful ponies in the universe.

Rarity strode back in, carrying a scroll of canvas. “We really must acquire a printer,” she said. “But this will do nicely for drafting purposes.”

“Rarity?” Journey asked.

Rarity seemed to snapped out of her trance. “Yes?”

“If you could find a solution, even a temporary one, I would greatly appreciate it, and I believe Spitfire would as well. Consider it the research team’s first official order.”

“Rest assured, I will do my utmost!”

“I would expect nothing less. Thank you, both of you, and good night.” Great Journey shifted her gaze to make it clear that everypony was included in her next remark. “We set off in the morning; you don’t have to be awake for the ceremony, but I don’t imagine you’ll want to miss it. Twilight Sparkle, I expect you'll want to be there to represent the research team.” She dipped her head. “May Luna watch over your dreams.”

Rarity and Twilight simultaneously returned the gesture. “May Luna watch over your dreams,” they both said, then looked at each other in surprise.

Great Journey smiled and cut the connection.

Rarity stared at the holographic schematics, which had returned to their place in the absence of Fleet Command. She laid the blank canvas out on the table, careful not to cover any emitters. “I’m going to get started.”

Twilight frowned. “It’s a bit late. You don’t want to miss the Jump, do you?”

“Not at all, dear, but I must get to work as soon as I can. I have all these ideas swimming around inside my head, and if I don’t sort them out and jot them down then I just know they’ll evaporate!”

Twilight shrugged. “Okay, if you say so. I’m off for the night. Good luck with the Blade, Rarity. Let me know in the morning if you need any help.”

“Thank you, dear,” Rarity gave something that looked uncannily like a curtsy. “May Luna watch over your dreams.”

“Yours as well,” Twilight said as she made her exit.

Time: 10:35 P.M.

Location: Research Ship Crew Quarters

As soon as Rarity was out of sight, Twilight’s smile slipped away. She felt terrible for admitting it, even to herself, but she’d misjudged Rarity. The reason for her placement was becoming steadily clearer the more they spoke together. It was clear that whatever “spirit” had died with Sunset Shimmer, Rarity intended to resurrect.

She demonstrated an impressive grasp of spacecraft engineering. If she managed to make the Blade work, then that was simply the final nail. To make that disaster of a fighter fly without exploding... she might as well be called a certified genius. After that, it was hard to imagine what problem she wouldn’t be able to solve—with a little help from the rest of the team, of course; Twilight didn’t imagine Rarity was quite as skilled with magic, nor with weapons, software, materials engineering, et cetera. Then again, for all Twilight knew she was a multidisciplinary prodigy who’d turn out to simply replace everypony else. It was a key foundation of science: Nothing was certain until proof was presented, and even then things tended to be shaky.

Twilight stopped outside her quarters, contemplating. Her gaze wandered, coming to rest on Amethyst’s door. She’d come up once, earlier, smelling faintly of whiskey, but she hadn’t said much of anything. Whatever her thoughts on the recon squad’s performance, she’d kept them to herself. Tentatively, Twilight poked a hole in the silencing spell she’d left in place.

The twanging roar of a heavily distorted guitar penetrated the foyer. Twilight closed the hole.

She steadied her breathing. Amethyst was fine. She was fine.

Twilight walked over and knocked on the door. She could practically feel it vibrating from the music.

She felt silly. There was no way Amethyst could hear her over that music. Twilight was just worried about nothing, that was all. Amethyst would be fine.

Then, Amethyst opened the door. “Hey, Twi,” she said.

“Hey, Ammy.”

“Come in?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Twilight did and found that the reason she couldn’t hear the music anymore wasn’t just the silencing spell. Apparently, Amethyst had just turned it all off.

The room was already a disaster area. Amethyst’s luggage was scattered across the room like the remnants of some exploded organism. Several of her bags had been thrown open, revealing a large supply of alcohol among other things of varying decency and… size. There were a pair of large speakers set up next to the small desk; presumably some kind of fold-out model that could have fit somewhere between the booze and the “toys”.

The regulation violations were incredible.

The top bunk remained empty, but the lower one’s sheets had been tossed around already. Amethyst must have been going to sleep when Twilight knocked.

“So,” Amethyst said, her expression unreadable. She still smelled of booze, but she clearly hadn’t been drinking all that much. The bottles were mostly still closed. Only one was open, and it mostly full. That was a good sign.

“So,” Twilight replied. Her hoof touched a suspiciously shaped thing, and she jumped a little.

Amethyst chuckled at the reaction and used her telekinesis to sweep some of the mess into the corners. Twilight raised an eyebrow, and used her own magic. Sweeping waves of light washed across the room, shuffling and organizing Amethyst’s possessions into rows and stacks, including the suspect objects Twilight was going to stop thinking about.

Amethyst grunted. “Show off.”

Twilight just smiled and shook her head. “You never studied.”

“Yeah, because I was busy having a life. Practically got hitched while you had your head buried in books.”

Twilight’s face fell, and Amethyst clearly noticed. She gave a long, exasperated sigh, and shook her head. “Look, Twi, do me a favor. When Moondancer gets here, just… let things go for a while, okay? I know you and Moony don’t get along, but… just please, leave it alone.”

Twilight shook her head in disbelief. “How can I forgive her? How can you forgive her? She left you alone for six years, Ammy!”

“To join the crew of the Khar-Selim! That’s not just some job, okay? That’s a big bucking deal.”

“But while you were in the middle of one of your…” Twilight’s voice hitched.

“My what? One of my meltdowns? One of my bad spots? Yeah, she did. Do you know why? Do you know why she left right then? Do you know what caused that bad spot?”

Twilight opened her mouth, then shut it. She didn’t actually know, now that she really thought about it. She’d assumed that Moondancer wanted some kind of glory, to be on the first ship to travel to the outer solar system, but she’d never really asked. It never really had made sense.

Amethyst answered her own question. “Because she’d gotten denied, Twi.” Amethyst looked deliberately at the bare wall. “She wasn’t going to get on the Mothership. The board took her application, looked it over, and told her she wasn’t good enough.”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “They what? How could they even say that? She was at the top of her class! She’s one of the brightest ponies I’ve ever met! They teach her dissertation!”

“And she still wasn’t good enough for the Mothership, so do you know what she did? She took the Khar-Selim posting instead, because at the end of their flight, she does get on the Mothership. She gets to be with me, with you, with her worthless bucking parents who bought themselves Cryo-Tray tickets and didn’t think to get her one. Do you have any idea what it’s been like for her? She’s been stuck in that sand cursed tin can for six years, all just so the two of us wouldn’t get separated.”

“I…” Twilight swallowed. “Oh, Celestia, Ammy, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t I tell you? Because what do you think you would have done if I had? Gone to the board and made a fuss? Threatened to quit unless she was brought on?” Amethyst gave a hollow laugh. “Yeah, Moony woulda loved that, getting in because the mighty Twilight Sparkle pitched a tantrum. She had her bucking pride, Twi, and I’m not blaming her. I know I’d rather be stuck on that boat for six years than suck off some bureaucrat or take favors from one of the ponies who was qualified.”

Twilight looked at her hooves. “I’m sorry.”

Amethyst sighed and trotted over and put a hoof around Twilight’s shoulder. “Look, don’t worry about it. Things didn’t go perfect. That’s fine. That’s life. We move on.”

Twilight nodded.

Amethyst sighed. “Wanna sit down?” she asked, indicating the bed.

“Sure,” Twilight responded.

They sat down next to each other. Twilight couldn’t bring herself to look at Amethyst, and Amethyst wasn’t making conversation. They stayed silent for a while, listening to the faint ticking of Amethyst’s old alarm clock.

It was always complicated, Twilight thought. She felt stupid for believing things could have been as simple as she’d thought they were. Any simplicity you saw in the world just meant you weren’t looking hard enough, and Moondancer was no exception. She’d never been ashamed of her academic awards, and she'd always been ecstatic when her work was recognized, but she’d never gone out of her way to seek out the highest recognition. She’d never sought out glory at the expense of her friends, especially at Amethyst’s. And now she was one-and-a-half light-hours away, waiting, just like Amethyst was, for tomorrow, the day they’d be back together again.

Twilight made a decision right then and there. “Ammy, when I see Moondancer again, I’m going to give her a hug.”

Amethyst coughed. “What? You’re not telling me the Great and Stubborn Twilight Sparkle just forgave somepony, are you?”

“It’s never too late to make up for past mistakes, right? If what you’re saying is true, then I’ve been… well, a complete monster to her.”

“Oh, come on, don’t get dramatic. You didn’t talk to her about it, so what?”

“Now that I know all this? With the way I’ve been acting, forgiving her isn’t what’s hard.” Twilight shook her head. “Look, don’t try to defend me on this. I was… wrong.” She held a hoof up before Amethyst could make the retort. “Yeah yeah, ‘doesn’t happen often,’ I get it.”

“Hey, don’t get me wrong, I’m ecstatic that you’ve finally decided to stop hating my marefriend.” Amethyst grabbed Twilight and spun her so they were looking each other in the eyes. “But I don’t want you putting all this on yourself, okay? This was never your problem, and nobody’s gonna blame you for anything. It’s all finished.”

Twilight nodded. Amethyst sighed, and flopped back on her bed. She stayed there for a minute, then grumbled out an “I’m too sober for this manure,” and started groping for her open bottle.

“It’s gonna be something,” Twilight muttered.

Amethyst paused, her hoof touching the bottle’s neck. “What is?”

“The voyage. The… pilgrimage.” Twilight shook her head. “I just feel like we’re not ready, like we’re taking it too fast. We should study the Core more, search for signs of other life out there. Nothing is certain. Everything we’re basing this trip on is guesswork. Six hundred thousand ponies, both of our immediate families included, all staking their futures on the hope that Equestria really is going to be a better place. With all the stuff you’ve been going through, with Moony… why do you still want to leave? Why not just stay here? I… I would have, too, if you’d asked. Equestria isn’t going anywhere.”

Amethyst sat up, balancing the bottle on her knee. “Equestria’s gotta be better than what we have.”

“How? How do we know?”

“Twi, you don't watch the news much, do you?” Amethyst’s grip on the bottle tightened slightly.

Twilight’s bit her lip, and a stone dropped into her gut. “Not lately, no.”

Amethyst sighed, and offered the bottle to Twilight. Twilight shot her an incredulous glance. “Are you serious?”

“Last night over the planet? Yeah I’m serious. You’re twenty-two, Twi. You can have a swig once in a while without losing it.”

Twilight pushed the bottle away. “Age has nothing to do with it, and it's not me I'm worried about. I should be reporting you for possession of accelerants.” She tilted her head to indicate the tiny window set into the wall. “You know, on a spaceship? How that’s kind of a bad idea?”

Amethyst sighed. “Hey, whatever you say.” She took a small sip, but it didn’t seem to make her happier. “Why couldn’t we stay? It’s bad out there, Twi.” Her eyes shifted somewhere distant. “The fact that the media's reporting any of it is a testament to just how bad. Soban’s holding the Gaalsien back, but the bad guys are getting bigger every day. I've been down on those front lines, and I've seen the kind of firepower they roll out when they're serious about taking a point. It’s only a matter of time before they figure out something we can’t shoot down or blow up.”

Twilight was silent. Shining Armor’s face flashed in her thoughts, grinning at some lame joke. “It’s that bad?”

“We’re gonna lose, Twi. I know it’s hard to admit, but even with all we’ve got, even with ponies like Shiny on those lines, it’s not a fight we can win. The Daiamiid might be strong, but at the rate things are going their forces won’t be able to hold out forever. Sooner or later, the south pole will be all that’s left, and then? With bucking Paktu as the last remnant of civilization? Hells, I don’t want to see that future. Nopony does. I mean, even if the Gaalsien didn’t get us… me and Moony living in the south?” Amethyst gave a mirthless laugh. “They’d burn us at the stake quicker than the zealots would. And that's if they didn't just join the bastards. Take the Mothership out of the picture, and Gaalsi and Paktu aren't so different. Just slightly different levels of crazy.”

Twilight stared out at the window. The view was restricted, but she could see a sliver of Kharequus, highlighted by the sunlight streaming over its far side. “So we just leave it all behind? Give up?”

“Yeah, that’s the idea,” Amethyst took a bigger sip. “And then, when we have Equestria and all the resources space can give us, I’m betting we come back. We come back with warships the size of moons, with orbital bombardment that turns the sands to glass, with powered suits that can take out cities on their own, with nanomachine storms that turn the zealots' bones to grey goo. We come back with all the advanced technology our brilliant collection of scientists have whipped up along the way, and we use it to butcher the bastards for what they’ve done, wipe them off the face of the bucking planet. That's probably why I got in and Moony didn't; a weapon designer's a lot better at revenge than an astrophysicist."

Twilight's jaw worked silently as a growing sense of horror overtook her, but Amethyst wasn't done.

"Way down the line, either we or our descendants are the avenging angels," she said with a shake of her head. “It’s terrible, but I’m betting it’s the plan. The Naabal’sa, Glamour? She’s smart. She has to know that the Daiamiid loses this. Way I see it, the reason the most powerful kiith on the planet dumped their capital into this ship is because it’s their last shot at coming out on top. Because it flies in the face of everything Gaalsi believes. Because the terrorists will never have the will nor the means to follow us. And you know what? Damn Celestia's harmony to the sands she gave us, I want to see that happen. The bastards might win one war, but if we get a second shot, well…”

Twilight stared out the window. The planet was so beautiful from here, glimmering in the fading sun. Then, all at once, the sun vanished behind the world, leaving only a black abyss punctuated by the pinprick lights of the cities below. How many of those were Gaalsi's, praying right now for the deaths of every single pony above the clouds?

"It's only a matter of time," Twilight murmured. "If what you're saying is right... then a lot of ponies are going to die for a whole lot of nothing."

Amethyst nodded silently. She offered the bottle again, and this time Twilight took it. She stared down the neck for what seemed like an eternity.

It had been years since she last drank alcohol. Probably five years, at least. It seemed like ages ago, but she remembered the smell. She'd never forget the smell. She'd fallen asleep and woken up to that same smell more times than she could remember.

But despite all that, Amethyst was right. She switched to holding the bottle with her magic, and downed what was left. More than half. It rolled through her belly like a wave of familiar fire. Intellectually, she knew that it wouldn't do so much—her tolerances were still ludicrously high. But somehow, in a sickening way, the feeling was comforting. It was like an old friend—the kind you tried really hard to forget, but at the same time had always known you'd meet again one day.

“Sands on bucking fire, Twi…” Amethyst muttered, her eyes wide. "You didn't have to down the whole thing."

“Twenty-two, right?” Twilight said, then coughed as the aftertaste hit her. "Besides; consider it a toast to the end of the world."

Amethyst stared at her, and Twilight thought for a moment that she saw the mark of regret in her eyes. “Look, I know what I said, but... really, it’s just the booze talking. Who gives a flying hunk of manure what drunk Ammy thinks about world affairs, anyway?”

“It’s all right. It fits. It’s probably true.”

Amethyst put an arm around her. “It’s not the only possibility. It's a hypothesis based loosely on stuff I've seen and heard from largely unreliable buddies.”

Twilight shook her off and stood. “I should go. Both of us need to get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

Amethest bit her lip. “Hey, Twi? I know it’s not totally kosher, but I’ve got an empty spot here,” Amethyst indicated the top bunk. “I understand if you don’t want to be alone right now.”

Twilight chuckled. She dropped the bottle in the decompiler chute, listening to it bounce as it hit the metal sides. “Thanks, Ammy, but I wouldn’t want the others to get the wrong idea. I mean, we’re cousins!”

Amethyst didn’t smile. “You sure?” I know how you can get if you're alone. Don't force that on yourself.

“I’ll be fine, Ammy.”

Amethyst just stared back. She didn't challenge the statement, but she sure as Tartarus didn't agree with it.

Twilight keyed the door. “I’ll see you in the morning. I know you’re not much of a believer, but may Luna watch over your dreams.”

“Same to you, Crazy Spark,” Amethyst said. “Don’t do anything stupid, and don’t worry about things you can’t control.” She raised an eyebrow. “I mean it. I’ll crack you over the head if you do.”

“All right, Ammy.” Twilight smiled over her shoulder and walked out the door.

But the moment she got to her room, she collapsed on her bed. The world rushed around her like a hurricane, and she had to bury her head in a pillow to stop herself from screaming. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or everything else in the bucking world, but she was not okay.

“She has to be wrong,” Twilight said, as if blubbering it into a pillow would somehow make it true. “She has to be wrong…”

Time: 11:59 P.M.

Location: Research Ship Planning Area.

Tap tap tippity tap.

“...The engines… the engines need to be upscaled, but not too much, no… it must be balanced…”

Tap tap tap.

“...And the reactor, yes, the reactor too. I’ll need to see Twilight about that later, oh yes.”

A hoof tapped Rarity on the shoulder, nearly stopping her heart. “WhaHAha?” she exclaimed, whirling on the spot.

She found herself face-to-face with Lyra Heartstrings’ incredible grin. “Hey,” the mare said. Something was odd about her eyes, a slight glazedness. There was also something about the way that was standing, and the air around her. It all seemed… off.

“Um… hello,” Rarity said. She hurriedly fixed part of her mane which had drifted out of place. She blinked her sticky eyes. “I didn’t hear you…”

“You sound—and look—insane,” Lyra observed, and plopped herself heavily down in the chair next to Rarity. “So, you’re working on some kind of engineering… thing, huh?”

Rarity gave a little sniff and returned to her work. “It’s a delicate project. Have you heard of the Blade-class before?”

“Bomb Jockeys?”

Rarity gritted her teeth. “Yes. That one.”

“I’ve only heard of it by reputation,” Lyra said. “So, you’re fixing it?”

“Yes. The first real request we’ve received.” Rarity sighed, and leaned back in the chair. “Though, I have reservations.”

“Yeah?” Lyra raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “Gonna elaborate, Rare-bear?”

Rarity shut her eyes and let out a long sigh. “No.”

“You’re not going to elaborate, or—”

“No. That nickname. No.”

Lyra’s lips spread into a wicked grin. “Ooooh… hit a nerve, did I?”

“Just no.” Rarity shook her head and set her eyes back to the schematics floating over the table. “Anyhow, I do have my reservations. The problem I’m actually fixing… well, frankly I’m being asked to remove the best part of a mediocre design. I think Fleet Command’s heart is in the right place, but excising it entirely is hardly the solution I would have proposed.”

“Okay, I still don’t get it. I’m no engineer.”

“Then I’m not sure I can make you understand,” Rarity grumbled. “Anyhow, it’s no concern now. I’m all but finished with the initial redesign.”

“Well, that’s good at least.” Lyra suddenly grinned. “So, are you gonna sleep... ever? Or are you just gonna work all night?”

“And why are you awake?” Rarity asked.

It was at this point that things finally clicked into place for Rarity.

One: Lyra Heartstrings had vanished into her room with Bon Bon, the mare she was in a relationship with.

Two: Her demeanor indicated some level of exertion had recently taken place, and her tail was lowered at a slightly suspect angle.

Third: She smelled.

“What have you been…?” Rarity murmured, then slammed her eyes shut. “No. Forget I asked.”

“Oh, so you noticed?” Lyra asked, her voice slippery smooth. “Me and Bonnie have a little game going on. It’s sort of like a drinking game, only instead of shots it involves orgasms.”

“Oh, please spare me,” Rarity groaned.

“Bonnie’s currently losing by two,” Lyra said casually. Then, she leaned over and butted her head against Rarity’s shoulder. “Of course, it’s the kind of game that’s more fun to play with a crowd.”

“Oh.”

“Interested?” Lyra grinned and patted Rarity on the head. “It’s fu~un.”

“You are seriously asking me this question.”

“Hey, the only restriction we’ve got laid out is a ‘no stallions’ for Bonnie. Anything else goes… well, except for the really extreme stuff.” Lyra stroked a hoof most unwelcomely through Rarity’s mane. “Whaddaya say? Wanna come celebrate?”

“No, no thank you. I’d rather not.”

“You sure?”

“I’m afraid one of my restrictions is ‘no mares’,” Rarity said, managing a weak smile.

“You’ll never know if you like it ‘til you try it,” Lyra said. She winked. “Besides, I promise me and Bonnie are both clean. No bugs. And no commitments either, if you don’t like it. Plus, you can stop whenever you like.”

“Thank you for the… generosity, but I think I will pass.”

Lyra shrugged. “Hey, suit yourself. The offer stands.”

Rarity frowned. She was a bit surprised that Lyra was so easy to dissuade. “That’s it?” she asked. “That was a rather poor attempt at coercion. Why give up so quickly?” She let out a little smirk, now that the tension had passed. “What, am I not worth the effort?”

“Hey, don’t get me wrong; you’re hot as the hells, Rare-bear.” Lyra chuckled at the flinch she got. “But I’m not trying to coerce anything. You’re not feeling it, you’re not feeling it. Just don’t stay up too late. Much as my lifestyle would disagree, sleep is important and you need it. I’m going to raid the kitchen and then… well, not sleep, actually. I’ve got a competition to win, after all.”

Rarity sighed as Lyra trotted off towards the kitchen. She was… interesting. Bearable. Took rejection well, too, or rather seemed to have a completely different viewpoint in regards to everything their conversation had encompassed. Interesting, in a way. Not that Rarity was planning on taking her up on that offer, but she had offered.

She hadn’t demanded. She hadn’t even requested. Odd, Rarity mused, how this was the first time in her memory that somepony had propositioned… relations to her for anything other than their own personal gain or enjoyment. Manaani were quite different, it seemed, from the types of ponies she was used to.

Come to think of it, everypony on the research ship was different. Even just along kiith lines, she was the only Naabali on the ship. Everypony else had a wildly different background, a completely different set of social mores they followed. Twilight Sparkle and Amethyst Star were S'jetti, and Twilight at least seemed to be one in the traditional scientist-philosopher mode. Bon Bon was Sagaldi, with all the strange tragedy that implied. And Sunstone... well Rarity had yet to actually meet him, but she couldn't imagine that LiirHra'n customs weren't just as different as any of the others.

And... that was it, Rarity realized with a little bit of shock. Those six names were the only ponies on the research ship, and none of them shared a background even remotely like hers. It was rather disconcerting.

Lyra strolled out of the kitchen with an entire freshly fabricated loaf of bread in her hooves. She caught Rarity’s eye, and shrugged. “Hey, gotta keep the energy up. Gonna be a long night.”

“What about Bon Bon,” Rarity asked, then added without thinking. “I take it she’s not hungry for anything but you?”

“Did you just…” Lyra let out a snort of laughter. “Sweet Luna riding a sandskimmer, did you just say that?”

Rarity lowered her head into her hooves, feeling her cheeks burning as she tried to reconcile what her tongue had just done. “I’m frankly not sure,” she muttered. “Goddesses, what am I becoming?”

“I’m making a note to keep that offer open,” Lyra said with a grin that could have made rocks fear for their virginity. “Take care, Rare-bear.”

Rarity groaned. “Please do not make a habit of calling me that.”

“Whatever you say, Rarilicious.” Lyra skipped merrily to the stairs. “Night! May Luna watch your dreams, and may she bring popcorn to share.”

Rarity sighed. She stared at the schematics for a while and tried to concentrate, but she couldn’t come up with anything. She was out of her trance, and there was no telling if she’d slip back in. She stood up, saved all her files, and shut down the holoprojector.

She looked around. Empty walls in white and grey, shiny metal floors, and pieces of unfurnished technology scattered all about. The research ship’s overall design was impressive, but its interior was bland to the point of seeming unfinished. Reasonable, of course: the ship had only been completed today.

It wouldn’t be impossible to remedy it, either. All Rarity would need was a little time, and she could probably put together some decent decoration. It was something to consider for later, after the Blade was finished. Surely, she’d have a good deal of free time in the months that the voyage would last.

She made her way to the lower deck, and all but winced. Here, the sparseness was a bit more apparent: several walls bore exposed wires and tubing, and the others were an ugly off-white that simply wouldn’t do at all. Rarity’s mind whirred. She debated what colors she could use—perhaps a robin’s-egg blue, or a light green—as well as the logistics of painting a spaceship’s interior. Would the ventilation systems be enough, or would she have to rig up a network of fans to keep the fumes from overwhelming her? And what about walling over those exposed spaces? Could she do it without obscuring maintenance hatches or other such necessities?

Then, something caught her eye. On one of the walls, the one at the aft of the ship, between the two access panels which led to the engine compartment, there was a strange piece of metal that seemed out of place, almost as if it was a access panel, and yet... Rarity knew the schematics of the ship. There was no panel there. She trotted over to it, and gave the panel a tentative feel with her magic. To her surprise, the slice of metal came free easily, revealing a small space in the wall.

“What in the world?” Rarity breathed. She examined the space, but there was nothing inside and no indication of any kind of utility. Rarity frowned, and, on an impulse, used her magic to light up the space.

On the back of the compartment there were words, carved into the metal with great care.

This vessel was built by the hooves, wings, and horns of…

And then, in script that changed from line to line:

Comet Dust LiirHra

Hale Bukk LiirHra

Aster LiirHra

Nova Spell S’jet

Sunstone LiirHra

And lastly, etched in careful, precise lines:

We dedicate you to the stallion named Stargazer Naabal, who left us while working on the Mothership’s engines. We remember you, Starry. Though it may not be understood by the ponies who trust this vessel with their lives, we give this ship your name. May your soul guide this vessel and keep its crew safe from harm.

“Oh my…” Rarity murmured. She almost reached out to touch the dedication, but she hesitated at the last moment. She couldn’t bear to profane it with her hoof. It was so tiny, merely lines etched in metal, but somehow that made it all the more tragically beautiful.

She closed the panel up, thoughts milling about in her head. Presumably, this was a LiirHra’n tradition of some sort, perhaps one that outsiders weren’t meant to know of. Then again, a S’jetti pony had given their signature, and the stallion it was dedicated to was Naabali. She debated bringing it up with Sunstone but decided against it. It seemed too personal for that.

Another culture, completely unlike her own. Naabali gravestones were bare slabs of granite, rarely adorned with so much as a flower. For Stargazer, whoever he’d been, this whole ship was a gravestone. It was a sobering idea, but beautiful all the same.

Rarity closed her eyes. She was tired, and tomorrow was a day she needed to be at her best. She stepped into her room and settled into bed. She hadn’t had time to unpack, and her suitcases were still closed. The lights dimmed at her telekinetic touch, but she hesitated before shutting them off. She looked out the tiny window, and saw the Scaffold’s side, the window-lights flickering like tiny eyes. So small, against the great stretches of metal.

Did the Scaffold have a dedication like the Research ship? Did the Mothership have one as well? Did they have names secret to all but the LiirHra’n ponies who'd carved them? She wondered if she’d ever know.

It was a strange time to be alive. The great madness that had catapulted equinity into space, the great dreams of Sunset Shimmer, the spirit of adventure that had hurled the entirety of LiirHra into orbit… on the surface it seemed to have died out, and yet up here everything still remained. Relics of a dying age, yet still so alive themselves. Still carrying on in the sky, despite the fact that the surface no longer cared for them as it once had. It was strange to be a part of it all, an observer caught within a contradictory world of impossible technologies and bitter politics.

Maybe she’d have to change it. Maybe she’d have to take up Shimmer’s dreams, revive that old spirit. She thought of a world made like that once again, where inventors cast their ideas into the sky, where dreams took flight and shot towards the stars.

“Wouldn’t that be something?” she whispered to the air. “A world like the one that created all of this, brought back once more.”

The Mothership was an ark of opportunity, after all. Who was to say it couldn’t be done? Rarity smiled.

"Well, goodnight, Stargazer," she whispered. "I'm honored to trust you with my life."

It was probably her imagination as she fell asleep at last, but she thought she heard the engines murmur a "Thank you."

Comments

[Mixolydian Grey]

I love this story you've weaved around the events of the game. It's not just thrown on top of Homeworld. It's not just a puppet show with ponies cast as the Kushan race. Even if you stripped away the Homeworld and the ponies, you would still have a solid story. (Of course, it's nice to see behind-the-scenes stuff like the Arrow incident!) I imagine that this was the intent, of course. ^^ I'm impressed. I look forward to more.

[Krysnha]

Such a beautiful and sad, very nice thanks for sharing