Where the Heart Is

by Workable Goblin

Prologue

Prologue

Thousands of years ago, our ancestors came to this planet. Using mighty technologies and awesome magics, they bent it to their will, transforming and molding it as they would. The air was pure; the animals, docile; the seas, a glistening blue expanse. It was a paradise.

Five thousand years ago, war came. We don’t know who it was fought against, or why; we only know that it destroyed their Eden. What life wasn’t blasted apart by the power of the weapons deployed against our world, enough to shatter continents and rearrange seas, died in frozen cold from the choking, opaque dust filling the skies.

But our ancestors had planned ahead. Shelters, strong enough to survive even weapons that could change the face of the planet itself, kept millions alive. Other, subtler technologies and magics went to work once the dust began to settle, revitalizing the air, reintroducing life, damping down the cauldrons of volcanic activity, restoring the world to habitability.

But these technologies had their limitations. When our ancestors emerged from their shelters, they found not the paradise they were promised, but a harsh and barren world. Jungles, forests, and grasslands which had teemed with life all too eager to please its masters were now plagued by horrors and monstrosities which ignored every plea made by ponykind, even as they feasted on it. Lands where crops had covered the earth and mines had extracted vast mineral wealth now lay under miles of saltwater. Seas where fish had swarmed now rose above the waves, high, dry, and infertile.Tensions between the survivors over access to the remaining resources of the planet grew, and a second war was fought. This time, there were no shelters to save the population from the brutality of battle, no machines and magics to try to clean up afterwards. This time, civilization ended.

But not ponykind. Though reduced to primitive savagery, we remembered, in legends and tales, the heights from which we had fallen, and we yearned to return to them. It was not easy--nothing worthwhile ever is--but eventually we did. Eventually we once again sailed the seas, we once again hurtled through the air--of course, the pegasi had never stopped--and, at long last, on pillars of fire we ascended to the very heavens, journeying into space.

At home, we were making our own discoveries. For so long, our past had been a mystery. There were tales and legends, true, but before a few thousand years ago, even the most diligent archeologist had to admit there was nothing. Then we discovered one of the shelters, deep underwater, still functioning after thousands of years. Within, we found more than just the remains of millenia-dead ponies. We found ourselves. In the genetic code of our long-dead relatives. In the reams of documents preserved in the dry, dead atmosphere. Eventually, in data baked into ancient computer circuits. It was a long and painstaking process, but we learned we were not indigenous to this planet. We learned that we had a home--a homeworld--out there, among the stars.

We learned we could get there, if we tried.

That was the most unexpected discovery of them all. A device--a hyperspace core--deep within the core of the facility. Something with the power to move things. Thousands of light-years, in mere days. We researched, we copied, we thought. We decided.

We were going to return to our homeworld.

Every mind, every effort was put behind the great project. A vast colony ship, able to cross thousands of light years and reconnoiter new worlds, was designed and began to be built. Hundreds of thousands volunteered to spend years frozen, in hibernation, waiting to cross the void of space to a new planet. New industries and technologies were created, and old ones reworked.

Sacrifices were made, too. Those working on the project spent years, decades in space, away from their homes, sacrificing their family for the sake of the project. Millions lived and died never knowing whether their effort had, ultimately, made any difference--never knowing whether the grand project succeeded or failed. But among these sacrifices, there was one pony who undoubtedly did the most--who put her life entirely at the service of the cause. The young unicorn scientist Twilight Sparkle had herself permanently integrated into the ship as its living, breathing, thinking core.

She is now Fleet Command.

Comments

[Pen Expers]

This fic... So much yes!