Purplecoat
Lyra and Tick Tock dropped down the access hatch and into the passenger dorms, one of them landing on her hooves while the other tumbled inelegantly onto the thick carpet. The room was empty, but not undisturbed. Furniture had been overturned, blood covered the floor, and one of the room’s small reading tables had been smashed to pieces.
A feral scream chilled Lyra to the bone. “It’s close!” she hissed as Tick Tock climbed shakily to his hooves.
Derpy finally managed to worm her way through the hatch, but she didn’t have the coordination to climb down. Tick Tock reached up to help her, taking most of her weight so that she didn’t strain her injured leg. Had the situation been less grim, it might have been cute.
“Where’s Vision?” Derpy whimpered. She looked at the blood and bile smeared on the floor and gasped. “Oh, Celestia! What if we’re too late?” The Reaver screamed again, and Lyra took off toward its voice. A trail of blood led to the sleeping area, where passengers could seclude themselves in the relative privacy of their bunks.
The hallway leading to the tiny, private rooms was just ahead. Lyra approached the corner at a dead sprint, pistol drawn and heart racing. She heard Vision crying as bone snapped just around the bend, and a feeling of incredible helplessness brought tears to her eyes. She hadn’t run fast enough to make a difference.
A dark shape flew across the hallway and hit the bulkhead on the other side hard enough to shatter its spine. Lyra screamed and reflexively fired off a shot, hitting it in its already collapsed chest cavity. It crumpled to the ground in a useless heap, haunted eyes staring at nothing, and gave one final shudder before it died.
Shepherd Mac trotted around the bend and prodded the Reaver to make sure it was dead. “Sonofabitch,” he muttered crossly, and winced at his own language. Vision peered around the corner, wide eyes staring at the body.
“Nice work,” Lyra said. Relief and adrenaline conspired together to make her voice shake. “You alright, Preacher?” Mac nodded wordlessly. His shirt was stained with the Reaver’s blood, but he was otherwise unharmed. “Good. Let’s take Vision and Derpy to the cargo hold. We’ll check the infirmary on the way. Thunderlane should be set up on one of the catwalks with his shotgun.”
Vision noticed her brother and immediately ran to him. She almost knocked him over with her enthusiastic hug. “It’s alright,” Tick Tock whispered, still shaken by the fear of losing her. “You’re alright, mei-mei.”
Lyra barged into the infirmary and tried to hurry her little group along. She was fighting off panic through sheer force of will, but the dread tugging at the pit of her stomach grew worse with every passing moment. Reavers had a way of unsettling ponies, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she would last before she reached the limits of her courage.
The group rushed into the cargo hold to find Octavia still watching the airlock, drenched in sweat and shaking but very much awake. Lyra climbed the stairs to join Thunderlane on the catwalk. “Vinyl’s still on the bridge,” he said. “Just about had to tie her to the pilot’s chair when she heard about Octavia. Bon Bon’s in her shuttle with the door locked, and they’d have to go through here to reach her.”
“That just leaves Spitfire,” Lyra said. “Doc, I know you want to be here with your patients, but I might need you. Stay behind me; we don’t know how many are left.” She nodded to Thunderlane, who was feeding shells into his shotgun. “Try to keep an eye on Octavia. I’m not sure how long she’ll stay conscious. Get everypony else in there with Bon Bon.”
Lyra cracked open the cabin door leading to the galley and peered inside. A pair of Reavers were mindlessly throwing themselves against the reinforced door of the observation lounge, grunting and jabbering hysterically. Numerous injuries, most of them self-inflicted, wept blood onto the floor. The keypad by the door was smeared with grime, but hadn’t yet been smashed.
One of the Reavers was a diamond dog, and the other was a unicorn. The dog had punched through the door’s small window, and still clutched broken shards of glass in his bleeding paw. He could probably reach the handle inside, but the door wouldn’t open with the ship on lockdown.
Lyra shot him first, then turned her attention to his partner. The unicorn had time to notice her, and glared with one eye while the other roamed uselessly along the ceiling. He opened his mouth, baring teeth that had been filed to sharp points, but his scream died in his throat.
A few seconds of silence passed while Lyra listened for any more Reavers. When she was finally satisfied that they were alone, she holstered her pistol and punched in the override code on the door’s keypad. It swung open freely, though she had to push a corpse out of the way first.
Spitfire was hanging listlessly in her restrain harness, held up only by the padded straps around her legs and midsection. Her face had lost all expression, and she stared numbly at the floor as they approached. Tick Tock waved his hoof in front of her face. “I think she’s in shock,” he said. “Can we get her to the infirmary? I can treat her better there.”
“Fine,” Lyra said. “Help me get her out of this thing.” She began working on the band around Spitfire’s midsection while Tick Tock reached up to free her hooves.
Loud, hysterical laughter erupted from the former Wonderbolt without warning. Tick Tock shrieked and fell backwards, startled halfway out of his mind. Spitfire shook in her restraints, chest heaving and pupils contracting to pinpricks. Every muscle in her body drew taut, and her smile tightened into a gruesome rictus.
Lyra whipped her pistol across the laughing mare’s face, knocking her senseless and causing the awful sound to grind to a halt. “You hit her!” Tick Tock exclaimed.
The Captain returned her pistol to its holster. “It’s not my fault!” she shouted indignantly. “She startled me!”
Spitfire blinked sleepily and shook her head. “Whuh?” she mumbled. “Wazzat? Who’s there? ” Tick Tock and Lyra glanced at one another and, very quietly, backed away.
“You can examine her in here,” Lyra whispered. “I’m not letting that loose on my ship.
Tick Tock looked at the disoriented pegasus and shivered. “Agreed,” he said. “I’ll have a look at her after I take care of Octavia and Derpy.”
“Might want to get a move on,” Lyra urged. “Octavia’s probably in a lot of pain right now.” She watched Tick Tock rush off through the galley, stumbling over one of the dead Reavers and continuing on without a second look. “Not bad for a Core dandy,” she mused. “I expected more screaming.”
“Lyra!” Vinyl called over the intercom. “There’s an Imperial cruiser heading right for us! I think it’s the same one that tried to stop us on Persepony a few months ago.”
Lyra shut the door behind her and entered another code to ensure that it remained locked. “It never buckin’ rains,” she grumbled as she made for the bridge. “Doc! Give Octavia something for the pain, and then get ready for some stargazing.”
*****
“Reavers?” the Commander asked incredulously. Lyra had made it to the bridge just as he hailed Sereneighty. “You must be joking, Captain. I’m Commander Shining Armor, by the way. I don’t believe I caught your name.”
Lyra shut her eyes and tried to think happy, calming thoughts. There’s no way I’ll get away with this, was all that came to mind. “Strings,” she lied, using the fake name on the ship’s registration forms. “Plucky Strings. It’s very nice to meet you for the first time.” Smooth, Lyra. “It shouldn't be hard to confirm my story, Commander. Just send a team to the station and look around.”
Commander Armor glanced at somepony that Lyra couldn’t see. “I’ll have it checked out. I need to question your crew, of course. I hope you’re aware that the Empire’s official position is that Reavers do not exist.”
“With all due respect, Commander, your official position amounts to less than a road apple out here. I know what I saw. Question us if you want, but I’ve got wounded to look after. They need medical attention. My first mate has a bit of experience patching ponies up, but she’s out of action for now.”
“I can help with that,” Shining Armor offered. “Your crew will have access to our facilities. In the meantime, I expect complete and total cooperation on your part.”
Lyra looked over her shoulder and saw Tick Tock trying to fit Spitfire’s sedated body into a space suit. She subtly angled the screen a bit to make sure that Shining Armor couldn’t see them. “You got it,” She assured him. “No funny business.”
*****
“I’m not happy with this plan,” Soarin’ said. He had been saying very little else for the last half hour. “Interrogations can be a delicate business, boss. I’ve got a lot more experience with it than you.”
Shining Armor rolled his eyes and smiled. “I’ve done covert ops too, Soarin’. You’re just mad because I’ll be talking to the Companion.”
“And the first mate!” Soarin’ complained. “You saw the way she looked at me when we brought her onboard. You’ve got to let me talk to her!”
Shining Armor knew he should probably scold his friend for being so unprofessional, but something about Soarin’ made it impossible to stay mad at him. “Don’t feel too bad,” he said. “The ship’s mechanic is sort of pretty, right? Besides, I’m sure the first mate was on some heavy-duty painkillers. I don’t think that look counts.”
“Whatever,” Soarin’ muttered sourly. “I guess I’ll talk to you after we’re done.”
They parted ways, Soarin’ heading to a private holding area while Shining Armor went in the opposite direction. He started with the second in command, who had been moved to the infirmary. He wanted to question her before the painkillers took full effect. “Treble Clef?” he asked. “That’s a very…generic name.
“That is correct,” the grey pony said. “I am a cellist.”
“You don’t seem like the kind of mare to go adventuring across the ‘Verse,” Shining Armor said. “Shouldn’t you be in the Core, sipping champagne and playing music for ridiculously fancy parties?”
“This is where I belong,” she argued. “I left my family behind a long time ago. My friends are here. My wife is here. What more reason do you need?” She noticed his eyes scanning the scar on her chest, and wished that she hadn’t been relieved of her vest. “A birth mark,” she said. “Nothing more.”
Shining Armor flipped through several pages of notes. “You’re married?”
“That is not relevant.”
They stared at one another in silence until the unicorn began to feel uncomfortable. “Is there some reason you don’t want to talk about her?” he asked. “I’ve been married for years, and sometimes I still can’t seem to stop talking about mine. It’s starting to annoy my friends.”
The cellist somehow managed to look down her nose while lying on her back. He guessed that looking disdainful was probably an art that she had practiced from a young age. “My marriage is none of your concern. We are very private ponies.”
Shining Armor would later find out that the ship’s pilot was much less “private” than her wife. While he was attempting to pry information out of the cellist, Soarin’ was forced to listen to what was probably the most uncomfortable interview he would ever conduct.
“It was the legs,” the ivory unicorn said proudly. “I definitely noticed the legs first. Well, that and the area where the hind legs meet up with the rest of her.” Soarin’ toyed absently with his pen, cheeks burning with both embarrassment and frustration. The pilot either didn’t notice his discomfort or had decided not to care. “You know, she was straight when I met her.”
Soarin’ groaned and laid his head down on the table. Sometimes life seemed incredibly unfair.
*****
“All the ponies on that ship are crazy!” Soarin’ complained. “The big one just… stared at me. It was creepy. It felt personal somehow, y’know?”
Neither Soarin’ nor Shining Armor had been able to learn anything useful. They had agreed to meet up on the bridge and compare notes before Shining Armor interviewed the Firefly’s captain, but the only information they had been able to get out of the crew amounted to a very uncomfortable and horribly graphic description of the pilot’s sex life.
“Some are worse than others,” Shining Armor said grimly, thinking of the huge stallion dressed as a priest. It was a deeply ironic choice of wardrobe, to say the least. He almost hadn’t recognized Big Macintosh, and was stunned into speechlessness when the big earth pony walked into the interrogation room.
It hadn’t been a very nice reunion. Shining Armor had been very tempted to kick Mac’s teeth out, but he managed to restrain himself. Instead, he had ordered the guards to keep Macintosh in cuffs for the rest of his stay. It was better than he deserved.
“Sir?” Soarin’ asked. “Hey, Shiny? Am I boring you?”
Shining Armor dragged himself back to reality, putting daydreams of vengeance out of his mind. “Sorry, what?”
“I said that I don’t think we’re going to get anything useful out of them.”
“You’re right,” Shining Armor agreed. “There’s always the chance that they don’t have anything useful to give.” He scratched at one of his ears and frowned. Something was bothering him, but he couldn’t put his hoof on it. “Have you seen any of them before?”
“Besides Chancellor Applejack’s brother?” Soarin’ asked. “No, I haven’t. I’m pretty sure I’d remember meeting one of these head cases. What should we do with them?”
Shining Armor shrugged. “I’m going to talk to the Captain. After that we’ll probably just release them. Any word from our Blue Moon friends?”
“The freakishly attractive operatives haven’t made contact,” Soarin’ said. “It seems that we’ve been stood up, sir.” He looked perplexed for a moment. “Sir, is this what rejection feels like? I don’t think I like it.”
“Just keep listening,” Shining Armor said. He grabbed a small folder filled with the tiny amount of information they had collected. “I’ll be in the interrogation room. Get a shuttle ready for them, would you? I’d like to finish this up soon.”
The Captain was waiting for him when he arrived, and she had obviously gotten bored with the proceedings. “Are we about done here?” she asked when he sat down at the table. “No offense, but I’ve got places I’d rather be.”
“You and me both,” Shining Armor said. “I’m just as eager to leave as you, especially after seeing what happened on that mining station. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“Wish I could say the same,” the Captain said. “You may not believe in Reavers, but I sure as all Tartarus do. That freezer wasn’t just a place to dump bodies, Commander. That was a Gorram lunchbox.”
Shining Armor shivered in his seat. “I’m well aware of that,” he said. “My reconnaissance team found the whole mess right away. It’s pretty clear that a small crew like yours couldn’t do that alone. If I had to guess, I’d say that you’re just smugglers of some kind. You probably arrived late to the party, saw that nopony was around, and got attacked while trying to loot the place.”
Captain Strings – or whoever she really was – smiled nervously. “That’s crazy talk.”
“Uh huh,” Shining Armor said, obviously unconvinced. “The names were a nice touch. You might want to get a bit more creative next time.” He flipped the folder’s cover closed and pushed it away. “Look, I’m not about to bust you for trying to trade with diamond dogs. My soldiers searched every inch of your ship, and we didn't find anything illegal apart from a few interesting firearms. Given that those guns probably saved your lives, I’m not very eager to confiscate them. I just have one question for you, out of personal curiosity.”
“Go ahead.”
“Why is your ship named Sereneighty?” Shining Armor asked. “You were obviously a Purplecoat, given your choice of clothing. Why would you name your ship after a battle that you lost?”
The Captain frowned at the table, possibly trying to decide which answer would get her into the least amount of trouble. “Ever talk to somepony that was there?” she asked. Shining Armor shook his head. “They’ll all say the same thing; you can never leave Sereneighty Valley. You just learn to live there.”
“I think I understand,” Commander Armor said. “Alright, Captain. I suppose I don’t have any reason to keep you here. You can go.” He stood up, gathered his papers in his magic, and trotted away. “One more thing,” he said at the door. “Stay out of trouble. You seem like a nice pony, and I’d hate to have to arrest you.”
“Too bad staying out of trouble doesn’t get me paid,” Lyra grumbled after he was gone.
*****
As Shining Armor had promised, Lyra and her crew were escorted back to their ship as soon as a shuttle was ready for them. Lieutenant Commander Soarin’ was waiting to escort them onboard, and flashed a charming smile at Octavia. He received only a haughty sniff in response. Ouch, Lyra thought as the poor pegasus slouched in his flight harness. He really should have taken the hint.
Once they were finally alone on Sereneighty, Lyra trotted to the bridge and radioed Tick Tock. “How’s the weather out there, Doc?” she asked.
“Ticky’s scared,” Vision answered. “He wants to come in now, but I can’t make him move.”
Lyra rolled her eyes. “Well, you’re wearing the only suits we have. Can you drag Spitfire in here and let Thunderlane use one of them?”
The radio was silent for a bit. “Okay,” Vision said quietly. “Spitfire woke up, but she’s sleeping again. I think I made her sick.” What in the hay is that supposed to mean? Lyra wondered.
Vision crawled in through a small EVA hatch near the gravity rotor. She was able to climb down the ladder, but she lost her grip on Spitfire and let the pegasus plummet to the ground. “Oops,” Vision giggled, sounding not the least bit sorry. “Can we go out again, Lyra? I like seeing the stars.”
“You’re looking awfully lucid,” the Captain observed. She lifted Spitfire in her magic and tried to wake her up, but the former Wonderbolt was out cold. A thin trickle of blood had oozed out of her nose and dried on her lip. “What happened to her?”
“I don’t know,” Vision sighed. “Did I do something wrong?”
Lyra ruffled her mane playfully. “Not a chance. Go on, little one. See if Mac needs some company. I’ll get Thunderlane to reel in your brother.”
The brawny pegasus, who had been standing nearby, fluttered his wings in agitation. “Gorram sexism’s what it is,” he muttered as he began pulling on Spitfire’s discarded suit. “Nopony else has to clear the trash away.”
“You’ll get over it,” Lyra said. “Just get it done. I’m eager to leave this little patch of misery behind us.”
She got her wish and, after taking some time to catch his breath, a shaken Tick Tock was tending to his duties in the infirmary. He wanted to examine both Derpy and Octavia to make sure they would heal properly.
Octavia’s leg was his first concern, but it looked like the Imperial doctors had done a very good job of setting it. Vinyl held her wife’s hoof while Tick Tock examined the injury. “Broken in two places,” he noted. “It should heal up fine. We’re going to need to stock up on potions, but with any luck you won’t walk with a limp.”
“I will not be able to play my cello for a while,” Octavia sighed.
“Don’t worry about it,” Vinyl said comfortingly. “I can play it for you.” Octavia’s horrified gasp made everypony chuckle.
Derpy stumbled back against the operating chair and, still giggling, tried to get her hooves in order. “S-sorry,” she said quickly. “It just gave me a little twinge. I’m fine.”
Tick Tock rushed across the room and put his hoof on her forehead. “You’re not fine at all,” he said. “You’ve got a fever. Why didn’t you say anything if you were feeling sick? You shouldn’t have waited this long. Lie down in the chair.”
“Really, Doctor, I feel fine.”
“Derpy!” Tick Tock snapped. “I’m not joking. Lie down and stop arguing with your doctor.” Derpy timidly did as she was asked and crawled into the operating chair. Tick Tock cut away the bandages on her leg and gently peeled them away. “This looks infected. You can’t just ignore this sort of thing.”
“Sorry,” Derpy whispered, looking like she wanted very much to burst into tears. Tick Tock patted her shoulder comfortingly while reaching for a null spell. “It’s alright,” he soothed. “This isn’t going to be pleasant, though. I’m going to give you a local anesthetic. Try not to move too much, alright?”
Derpy lay perfectly still as Tick Tock sprayed a bright purple mist onto her leg from a bit that fit into his mouth while he worked. The mist clung to her fur and quickly seeped into her skin. Now that he was free to work, Tick Tock began removing a dirty piece of metal from the cut.
*****
It didn’t take long for Tick Tock to clean and dress Derpy’s injury again. He gave her some antibiotics and, after making sure that she was settled in for a good rest, went looking for his sister. Shepherd Mac was reading to her when he found them, and Vision was obviously having trouble with the lesson. “Solar radiation isn’t magic,” she muttered crossly as the big stallion tried to explain the concept of a goddess. She seemed to take the problem as a personal insult. “A pony can’t be made of sunlight. It’s impossible.”
Tick Tock’s arrival provided a merciful distraction, and Mac was able to slip away undetected. He felt bad for avoiding Vision, but he had been looking after her for quite a while and needed a break.
He wasn’t sure where to go, but he decided that he might as well get a quick snack. He found Lyra quite by accident on his way to the galley. She was standing outside of the observation lounge, watching Spitfire with a mix of pity and hatred. When she noticed him she shooed him away toward the bridge. “Not here,” she insisted. “You can’t be up here, remember? The rules haven’t changed.”
He waited until Lyra was satisfied that nopony would overhear. Vinyl had already set the ship’s course before escorting her injured wife to bed for a little rest, so the bridge was completely empty. “Derpy’s leg was infected,” the Captain said. “Poor mare’s got some really bad luck.”
“She’ll be alright,” Mac said confidently. “A pony doesn’t grow up on the Rim without toughening up a little.”
“Guess so.” Lyra reclined in the captain’s chair and began plucking her lyre. “You and Commander Armor have a history, don’t you? I saw the way he looked at you. That stallion hates you in a way that few ponies know how. Care to explain?”
Mac stared out the window, taking in the familiar sight of stars and darkness. “Not really.”
“That’s it?” Lyra asked. “You’ve been riding around on my ship all this time, and you’re not going to tell me why an important Imperial soldier looked at you like he’d skin you alive if he could get away with it?”
“Eeyup.”
Lyra stared at him, unable to glean anything from the stolid mask of his face. “You handled that Reaver pretty well, too,” she said. “Never seen a Shepherd fight like that. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say the two are related.”
The smile Mac gave her was kind, friendly, and strangely sad. “Ah knew a farmer once. He had this old oak tree that he loved; named it n’ everything. He used to climb up in the branches and watch the sunset. One day, that limb he sat on broke n’ dumped him right on the ground. He fell a good twenty feet. He healed up afterward, but he never did walk quite right. The tree’d got rotten right to the core with a sickness, and it almost spread to the rest of the farm, so he had to burn it.”
He watched the stars for a little while longer, carefully choosing his words. “Sometimes we’re just rotten,” he said quietly. “Ah’m just a Shepherd, Captain. Ah’m nothin’ special.”
“Can’t say I believe you,” Lyra said. “Still, I guess you don’t have to tell me. Long as you pay your fare and don’t bring us trouble, you’re free to do as you please.”
Mac was satisfied with her answer, even though he knew she was still curious. That was okay if it meant that she wasn’t going to pry too much. Lyra was good at respecting privacy when she needed to, and he was sure that she wouldn’t say anything to the rest of the crew.
Maybe it was time for a nap. Mac sometimes thought that he was getting old, which was a bit of a surprise. He honestly hadn’t considered what it would be like to live long enough to feel his age.
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Well its really starting to get good... im very interested to see where this gos from here and how it diverges from the show.
One question though why its Ticky speaking chinese, I can't remember if anypony else has yet or not. Im not against it as it is part of the show, but you should have it be a lagauge from one of the mlp species.... maybe griphon?
Chinese should be the language of changelings..: Y'know, most populous country in the world... Hives... Autocratic leadership... Hivemind
3205107
Griffons are European, possibly scandineighvian
Chinese should be the language of changelings..: Y'know, most populous country in the world... Hives... Autocratic leadership... Hivemind
3205107
Griffons are European, possibly scandineighvian