When Stars Come Out to Play

by Chicago Ted

Chapter 12 - Nihilistic Nemesis!

The distance between Black Hole’s vortex and the system proper was even greater than between Neptune and Pluto, Twilight found – still, she thought, we shouldn’t chance it with how close he is to us.

She checked behind her, and the rest of the other skating girls – the Kuiper Belt didn’t seem to be affected by the vortex just yet. And if it did, and we destroy it, she pondered, what would happen to whatever detritus it’s pulled in already? Twilight had seen and read of many things in Celestia’s School, but black holes really were something else entirely. I hope the time dilation isn’t too bad this close to it.

Even so, she steeled herself for the coming confrontation. Each one of the girls had a different outlook for the situation. Milky Way, the Sun, and especially Pluto were focused with laser-like intensity – understandably, each of them had something at stake, but so did the rest of the others – the universe, first and foremost. Did Black Hole’s vortex already absorb Milky Way’s sister? Twilight shuddered at the consideration. Let’s not think about that, not right now.

Jupiter told her pets to stay put for the fight, but they refused to listen – perhaps their loyalty got the better of them. Jupiter eventually conceded, and allowed them to tag along, so long as they did not jeopardize the others. Given that Io, Europa, Ganymede, and Callisto were her favorites, she definitely had her chakras dealigned – which may or may not be a good thing, considering the situation.

Saturn, Venus, and Neptune were seemingly unperturbed. Saturn probably because she was distracting herself with some music through her headphones – I hope that doesn’t become a problem later on – Venus because of her generally reserved personality, and Neptune’s go-with-the-flow attitude. Strange, given that Neptune’s planet was next door to Pluto’s, and would be the next to be absorbed.

Mercury, who for once kept pace with the others, at Twilight’s insistence, was definitely impatient. I know you can get there faster than us, she thought, but I don’t want you to fall into the vortex as well. What if we can’t get you out? One way or another, Mercury would need to learn to be patient – sometimes speed is simply not of the essence.

The Moon, despite shrouding her face behind her hair, somehow kept pace with the others. I know, Moon – I don’t like it much either. But it’s necessary to save the universe, or what’s left of it. Twilight was confident that her magical poëtry at least would be their ace in the hole

Uranus was the only one who can be considered even remotely confident about going up with a cosmological force to be reckoned with. I’m willing to bet she’s got something up her sleeve, Twilight surmised, or she knows something about Black Hole that we don’t. But what, exactly?

And lastly, Mars was – well, she was Mars, of course, somehow keeping a lighthearted attitude even in the face of ultimate danger. But how? Twilight almost asked aloud. This is serious; how can you still be cheerful at a time like this?

Finally, they all screeched to a halt – emphasis on screeched, given that they were still being influenced by the pull of a massive, pulsating sphere, from which no light shone, nor was reflected, but it was wreathed with fiery-colored rings – the vortex! Only now did Black Hole cast his gaze upon them – if it could be called that: his form was amorphous, ever-changing, orange spots forming and collapsing in the shifting mass, but with one trained squarely on the girls. An eye, perhaps? Of note was that he was seemingly immune to the pull of his own vortex. Probably, Twilight guessed. Though that would probably change if he nears the end of his goal. But let’s not find that out.

“Well, well,” a very gravelly voice erupted from the alien shape, “if it isn’t my dear Milky Way. How nice of you to see little old me again.” Black Hole drummed his ‘fingers’ on the surface of his vortex, which made a glassy sound. “And I see you’ve brought friends! How splendid indeed.”

Milky Way stepped forward. “Can it, Black Hole!” she shot back. “I’ve been hunting down the fragments of your prison, together with my new friends.” She gestured behind her, at all the other girls, who were all varying degrees of cross – even Mars. “It was a mistake letting you go free, and I – we – intend to fix it right now!”

“Oh Milky Way, how you wound me!” Black Hole feigned being upset, covering his ‘face’ with his ‘hands’. “And here I thought we were good friends. Come now, where are your manners?”

“Where are yours, old man!?” Pluto cut in. “Destroying the entire universe, just like that – total buzzkill!” She breathed out so hard, small flames shot from her nostrils. Note to self: do not get on her bad side.

“And you must be Pluto,” Black Hole responded, his tone turning much colder and less dramatic. “I’ve heard quite a bit of you and your Dwarf Planets. You may think you’re heard loud and clear across the universe, but let me ask you – when was the last time you’ve performed outside of your home in the Kuiper Belt?”

Pluto was at a loss for words for a moment. Then she fired back with a “That’s not important!”

“Oh, but I would imagine so.” Black Hole pointed at her. “When nobody has heard your song outside your own system – even outside of your own region – does it not strike you as hopeless? Are you not tempted to set down your guitar and give up?”

This time Pluto did not have an answer, nor could conjure one.

“I thought not.” He laid a ‘hand’ upon his lightless sphere, gazing upon it lovingly. “In any case, through my vortex, I am doing all of you a favor, though you may not realize it.” He turned back to them. “Existence is utterly meaningless. This being unchangeable, I wish to erase existence altogether.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just erase yourself?” Twilight blurted out. Me and my big mouth. Oh well, no going back now. “Just leave the rest of the universe alone that way!”

Black Hole chuckled. “Well proposed, lavender unicorn, but no.” He shook his ‘head.’ “It is not enough that I should be vanquished. In my journey of self-annihilation, I must take the universe with me as well – so come, all of you, come and abandon your futile efforts – a comfortable oblivion awaits.” He gestured to his vortex. “Is it not such a wonderful gift that I offer?”

Twilight looked around behind her. None of the others were even remotely pleased at his proposal. Least of all Pluto, who just had her significance thrown into question.

Then they all spoke, one at a time. “Honey, bless your heart and soul,” the Sun said, “but that attitude of yours ain’t gon’ cut it ’round these parts. Long as I still got light in my body, I’m gonna make sure you suffer before you fall.”

“And further, you shall not rob me of light whene’er I need it,” the Moon followed up. “This I swear to you – one strike ’gainst me, or any one of my friends, and you’ll soon regret.”

“You really aren’t as quick as I thought,” Mercury said. “In more ways than one, too!”

“Nor as elegant, might I add,” Venus cut in. “Quelle monstruosité! I shall see both you and your néant infini crumble before us, and the universe restored to that which it was before.”

“I’ve tried making nothing into art myself,” Mars said. “Talk about bo-ring! At least with a universe, there’s more to make than that.”

“I for one think of śūnyatā as something to visit in meditation,” said Jupiter. “Being in such a concept all the time would be most intolerable.” All four of Jupiter’s pets quickly agreed with her – Io growling, teeth bared, Callisto’s hair on end, claws out – even Europa, docile as she was, was ready to fight.

Saturn then had the nerve to throw off her headphones. Out from her cell phone, she said, “I’ve heard rumors about you, too. Can’t say any of them were good. So how about you drop your act before I drop the beat onto you? Believe me, you wouldn’t like to hear it.”

“I know you,” Uranus said. “No, I don’t think you quite understand – I know you better than you know yourself. I know your weaknesses, your flaws – and how to exploit each one of them. Don’t think I’ll go easy on you – because I can promise you, none of us will.”

“You’re a real fish out of water around here,” Neptune added. “Trying to throw us off our groove – we’ll show you what it’s like to wipe out.”

After a raging delay, Pluto finally said, “I’ll pummel you into pieces just as fast as you can put yourself back together.”

“You can probably tell by now that all of us much prefer existing in the universe rather than. . . well, not existing,” Milky Way concluded. Nicely put. “And I’ve got something you don’t have – yet.”

“Oh?” This caught Black Hole’s attention. Several much larger ‘eyes’ formed in his primordial tar, intensely focusing on her. “Do tell, my dear Milky Way.”

In her hand, Milky Way produced the ten fragments of Black Hole’s planetoid. “Across this one solar system,” she told him, “I found all of these fragments of your prison – with the help of the solar sisterhood standing here before you. And we’ll stay together, until you’re sealed away and the universe is safe again.”

“Which does not explain your companion!” Black Hole pointed straight at Twilight.

Oh dear, this isn’t good. . . . Twilight cleared her throat. “The only reason I’m here is a magical mishap with a new book I got,” she told Black Hole. “Which is none of your business, by the way – or were you behind that as well?”

“I cannot say of such a possibility,” he said. “Regardless, you are also welcome to join me in oblivion.” He pointed to the pulsating vortex. “Why worry about books, or home? Such things sound irrelevant.”

Books. . . irrelevant? Twilight thought. Then her brow furrowed, and her horn lit. Okay, this just got personal! “You haven’t the slightest idea who you’re talking to, do you?” she asked, in a heavily-tempered rage. She grabbed a random piece with her magic from Milky Way’s hand. Let’s see. . . . She focused on one edge of Black Hole’s fragment, found a matching edge, then cast a teleportation spell onto the piece.

She blinked.

“Uh, Twilight?” Milky Way asked. “Not sure what you were planning, but nothing happened.”

Black Hole chuckled. “You have the audacity to wield your magic against me, little unicorn? How naïve. How pathetic.” He cast a hand at her. “If you think you can stop me that way, you are sorely mistaken.”

Okay, have it your way, Twilight thought. Time for plan B. Again in her magic, she grabbed each piece and floated them over to each respective girl – do I seriously still know which girl had which piece? Twilight pondered. Well, I know Mars’s; that one’s easy. Venus’s is acid-worn, the Sun’s a bit warped from heat – yes, that should do it.

Once each girl had their respective piece, Twilight hopped down from Milky Way – by Celestia, that’s a strong pull – and kept her horn lit. “And for the record,” she told Black Hole, “I did most of the work getting each of these fragments. Don’t think you can scatter them off so easily again – I’ll just catch them in my magic faster than you can throw.”

“We shall see, my dear Twilight,” Black Hole taunted.

Don’t try to flatter me. . . . Twilight charged up her horn, but Uranus quickly stopped her before she could act rashly. “He’s right about that,” Uranus whispered to Twilight. “Using magic, I mean. If we’re going to stop Black Hole’s vortex, the best way to do it would be to lock up Black Hole himself – and the only way of doing that would be to intervene directly. But once that’s done, the vortex will collapse in on itself.”

“And the rest of the universe?” she whispered back. “What would happen to it?”

Uranus shrugged. “I have a few working hypotheses, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

The Sun apparently must have overheard them. “Why don’t I start this off?” she asked them. “What do I do?”

“He’s standing on what is essentially the keystone for the rest of his planet,” Uranus explained. “Each piece will attach itself in the right spot, and when they’re all in place, the vortex will take care of itself.”

“And who will look after the planetoid when we’re done?” Twilight asked. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not have something like this happen again.”

“You and me both,” the Sun replied. “My guess is someone here will keep an eye on it, so this system will get a new planet or satellite.”

“I shall enlist my services,” the Moon offered. “I’ve always wondered what ’twas like to have a satellite of mine own.”

“Perfect,” the Sun said. “Alright, now let’s get this party started.” She stepped forward, and shone an especially brilliant, glorious light towards Black Hole.

His vortex was unaffected, but Black Hole almost immediately became agitated. He cried out in agony as his form started shifting even faster, threatening to melt altogether onto his fragment.

The Sun was unbothered by all this – but what did bother her was the incessant, and ever-strengthening, pull of the vortex, not to mention Black Hole’s erratic, chaotic orbital path. Even I’m having trouble calculating it, Twilight thought. Even so, the Sun managed to reach him, her light not faltering once, much to Black Hole’s woe.

However, her finding the correct spot proved to be much clumsier than Twilight’s. At first she felt around the edges while hanging on for dear life, pulling her legs up to make sure no part of her slipped inside the vortex, lest she and her fragment be lost forever. Ultimately, she gave up on that and just hovered the fragment in front of whichever edge would accept it.

Please don’t be upside-down, Twilight silently pleaded.

Finally, the piece snapped to one edge of Black Hole’s platform. She pushed on it, firmly, and found that it did not give at all. Once she found the other girls waiting for her, she grabbed on and launched herself off into the crowd.

At least, that was her intention. She found that the vortex’s gravity was so strong, she too was pulled into an erratic orbit around it – and worse, Twilight noted, she was being pulled in closer and closer, almost glancing its event horizon. Not even her light could shine through into it.

Okay, think quickly now, the unicorn told herself. Black Hole said I can’t use magic at all against him or his vortex – I’ve tried the former, too. But he never mentioned anything about using magic on other things near him. She powered up her horn. I’ve never tried something like this before, but with the Sun’s life on the line, it’s worth a shot. She warmed up a teleportation spell, while also calculating how much mana she would need to pull the Sun away from the vortex, even accounting for gravitational pull – I’ll just have to ballpark it. Sorry, Sun!

And in an instant, just before the Sun slipped into an irreversible downward spiral, she found herself on her back in front of a somewhat drained Twilight. “That was way too close,” the unicorn said. “I really can’t do that for all of you – that spell took a lot out of me, and I’ve only got so much to go around with.”

“Wouldn’t want you to, anyway,” the Sun said. “That ride was a real whiplash, I tell you what.”

Gah, I knew I should’ve boosted the gravity factor. “Regardless, that’s one down, and. . . .” Twilight turned to see all the other girls waiting. “. . . nine more to go. Oh dear.”

“Hey, you did great,” Uranus said. “And look at that!” She pointed at the piece the Sun had just put into place – and as they all watched, it somehow enlarged itself until it was a perfect fit. Huh, interesting, Twilight thought. It almost looks like a face of a dodecahedron. But if that’s true, that’s two pieces there, and we have nine more. . . oh dear. One of these better count for two faces.

By now, Black Hole had regained his composure – or at least, as close to composure as an ever-shifting mass of a tar-like substance could get – and had trained his focus onto Twilight. “A clever pony you must be,” he seemingly commended. “And yet, you only have one fragment reunited. Can you say the same for the others?”

“Indeed you can.” The Moon cleared her throat, and started reciting another of her poëms:

Into the darkness bring me forth a glow
To guide and guard me as I tread so slow;
Keep me from straying into pressure’s flow
To keep him once again within his hollow.

Somehow, Black Hole remained silent through her reading the whole work – and a moment after the Moon finished, he boasted, “That had no effect upon me, shy one. What was that meant to do?”

“You’ll see in time.” The Moon took one cautious step, then another – as though even she wasn’t confident in her words. Yet as she tread, she never slipped on her skates, nor did she feel the effects of the vortex on her, save for her dress and hair being pulled almost magnetically towards the pulsating sphere.

As she got close to Black Hole, he started hissing in pain, and as with the Sun, his fluid form became agitated. Evidently, she had been paying attention to what the Sun had been doing, and scribbled down a quick poëm to do more or less the same thing herself, by making her eyes glow brightly. Unlike her orbs, or the Sun’s glow, this let the Moon cast her light strongly wherever she looked, but she had to keep her eyes on Black Hole at all times, lest he stop being affected.

Like the Sun, she deftly pulled out her fragment, and after feeling around for the edges, hovered it over each face of his platform, rotating it as she went along. After a few moments of tolerating the vortex’s tug and Black Hole’s incessant screaming, the piece snapped into place, and started expanding also to fill the spot. She calmly skated back to rejoin the others, to see everyone’s jaws dropped. “What?” she asked.

“Nothing, honey,” the Sun replied. “I’m just glad you made it out in one piece.”

“I’m more impressed that I didn’t need to cast another teleportation spell,” Twilight added. “Got anything else to help us?”

“Regrettably not,” the Moon said. “Though I should remind you, Twilight – that poëtry that I wrote for you is still within my grasp.”

The unicorn nodded. “I don’t think I’ll need it right now,” she said, “but I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Something wrong with Black Hole?” Milky Way asked. She pointed up to the still-writhing, still-grumbling mass.

“Perhaps my moonlight was a fair bit stronger than I meant,” the Moon hypothesized. “I merely meant to follow in the Sun’s lead, yet it seems I have misjudged my own potential.”

“Okay then,” Twilight said. “We know Black Hole is susceptible to light – ” perhaps his black form absorbing it has something to do with that aspect – “but only two – no, three of us can cast light on command. I can provide some for the others, but that would eat away at my magic reserves too much to allow for additional teleportation spells. Then there’s the Moon’s light orbs, but we don’t know how long they last, nor if she’s willing to cast more. And the Sun needs to get really close for her light to work.” She sighed. “What is a mare to do?” Surely Milky Way brings her own light for her travels – chime in anytime!

“I’ve got something!” Mercury chimed in. Not my intention, but it’s better than nothing. “How strong was that vortex’s gravity again, Sun?”

“Many times stronger than that of my star,” she answered. “Why?”

“Weeell. . . how likely is it that I can break loose if I get sucked in by accident?” she asked.

“Not possible, even with how fast you regularly go,” Twilight cut in. “You see how that sphere is perfectly black?” She pointed at it. “It’s because its gravitational pull is so strong, not even light can ‘break loose,’ as you put it.” She turned to her, looking a bit crossed. “Surely you’re not actually considering – ”

“Indeed, surely you would not be so foolish as to run right through my vortex.” What the – Twilight had to turn and look, as did the others. At some point, Black Hole had recovered from being lit up by the Moon, and was now looking right at the speedster. “But go ahead, prove me wrong. You seem not one to turn down a challenge.” He crossed his ‘arms’ in anticipation.

“You got it, old man!” Mercury snapped up her piece in her hands. With a slight start, she started off at a breakneck pace towards the black hole. Heeding their words, she kept her distance from the vortex, despite its gravitational pull persistently persuading her to fall in.

“Okay, let’s just orbit right out of here,” she said to herself. She angled her skates to try to inject her trajectory out of the vortex’s orbit – but she misjudged its gravity, and no matter how much force she applied or how fast her velocity was, she was stuck. Worse, fatigue was starting to set in, and she realized it only took one drop in speed below a certain point before she would tumble in, never to be seen again. “Okay, this is bad,” she said. “This is really, really bad.” She started panicking, looking around for something to help her. But not even Black Hole was coming up in her path. “Twilight!” she shouted, out of desperation. “Help me!”

Which she eventually heard. Tried to warn her. . . . Twilight lit her horn, and cast a teleportation spell, along with a trigger field with its sensitivity at the maximum allowable. She positioned it right on Mercury’s orbit, and let it loose.

In a violet shower of sparks, Mercury landed right in front of Twilight. She sat up and started catching her breath, noting the wheels on her skates still spinning. “Thanks, Twilight,” she said between breaths. “I owe you one.”

“Might take you up on that,” Twilight said. At least the time dilation’s pretty generous, surprisingly. “Now, remember what I said – you need to go faster than light to escape from his vortex, but we don’t know how exactly much faster, so you really don’t want to chance it.”

“Right, right, I got it.” After some stretches, Mercury stood back up on her skates. She took off back to the vortex again, this time betting on timing it right. She eyed Black Hole first, and moved to orbit at just the right time to meet up with him.

In what seemed to be a snapshot in time, she sized up the edges along Black Hole’s planetary shell, grabbed her fragment, and rapidly spun it on a fingertip as she guided it along the outer edge. Just as she thought she was going to lose it, it snapped into place, leaving Mercury with one objective: survive.

“Okay, gotta go fast,” she reminded herself. “Really, really stupid fast. I’m good at that, at least.” Mercury was capable of skating at the literal speed of light – but Twilight insisted faster. Mercury pushed herself to her limits, then forced herself to surpass them. Eventually, to her surprise, she started seeing a much more vibrantly-colored world in front of her than usual, not to mention seeing it also warped into a point in front of her. She looked behind – and could only see darkness, as light failed to keep up with her. She then realized she had broken the light-speed barrier – which meant she could now break free from the vortex’s gravitational pull.

And broke free she did – and after looping around the girls to shed the velocity she gained, she skidded to a halt right behind them, still swaying from the colorful trip. “Woah,” she eventually said. “That. . . was. . . trippy. ”

“Yeah, when you compress light in front of you, you’ll see some strange things,” Twilight clarified. “But that’s not the weirdest thing about it – not by a long shot!” The unicorn pointed at the vortex – and Mercury was almost spooked to see herself still running around it, just as she had before. “You’ve arrived before you finished,” Twilight said.

“Well, hot diggity!” the Sun added. “Now you can beat yourself in a race if you wanted to, sugar.”

“Well. . . .” Black Hole looked down and saw Mercury’s newly-placed fragment. “It seems you have bested even my own reflexes, Mercury.” He extended his hand to the crowd. “Come now, which of you is next?”

“C’est moi!” Venus cried. She skated over to Black Hole, tiptoeing her way so her wheels wouldn’t drag her into the vortex. She snatched up his hands – or at least tried to, given his amorphous form. “May I have this dance, monsieur?” she asked.

Black Hole grumbled. “Make it quick,” he gruffly replied.

“Très bon!” She tightened her grip on Black Hole, and in a twirl led him around his vortex, making sure to keep her distance from the event horizon. The centrifugal force this caused threatened to tear apart Black Hole – but his form remained consistent enough that this was impossible.

“What is the meaning of this?” Black Hole said. “Your movements make no sense.”

“Sometimes, my dear,” Venus replied – “sometimes they don’t need to make any sense.” She locked eyes with Black Hole’s impromptu peepers – but as she was about to make a move with her fragment, Black Hole reflexively swiped her hand away.

“I know that trick of yours,” Black Hole said. “If you wish to distract me, you’ll have to do better than that. I am all eyes.”

“Ah, yes,” she said, “but savor the moment, s’il vous plaît! We have all night together, you and I.” They continued to tango around the vortex, Venus leading her reluctant partner into a dizzying array of maneuvers.

These mesmerized Twilight – amazing how daintily Venus carries herself, and yet, how persuasive as well! she thought. If she’s planning on distracting him, she’s definitely playing the long game – though hopefully not too long of one.

Eventually, once Venus was absolutely certain that Black Hole was disoriented enough, she overswayed Black Hole, effectively putting him in a blind spot, then pulled out her fragment and looked for its matching spot. It took her only a moment, with it snapping right into place, and she then pulled Black Hole back upright. “Merci beaucoup!” She bowed, finally let go of him, then tiptoed away from him and back to the others. “Well. . . that was easy.”

“If you say so,” Twilight said. “Now, who’s on next – ”

“Ooh, ooh! Pick me! Pick me!” Mars was waving her hand high above the crowd, to where even Twilight could see it.

Oh, brother. . . . “Go ahead, Mars,” she said, “but be careful. That vortex is not a toy!”

“You got it!” After a mock salute, Mars strutted over to a still-dizzy Black Hole, cracking her knuckles. “Let’s make something unique!” she said. “You’ll be my material, got it?”

If she can somehow shove him in a kiln, Twilight thought, I’d like to see what that heat would do to him.

Despite Black Hole’s lack of solidity, Mars made the most of her material, even taking advantage of its dripping, runny nature by letting it drip down where she wanted it. Whenever Black Hole formed an eye to get a look at Mars, she quickly covered it up, never missing a beat. By the time she was done, she stepped aside to show her friends what she had made.

Well, it’s something alright, Twilight thought. Mars had sculpted Black Hole into what looked like a cubic tree, branching every which way she could think of. Black Hole then poked an eye through one branch, swiveling it around to look at itself. “What have you done to me?” he spoke, the substance vibrating all over.

“Hmm. . . .” Mars then looked at her new creation with a more objective eye. “You’re right, this doesn’t do you any justice. Hang on!” She then compressed Black Hole back down into a large, sticky ball, then reshaped him into an equine figure, front hoof raised, mane and tail straightened into perfectly-straight bangs, before adding a horn, almost as an afterthought.

Twilight blushed. She’s actually spot-on, she thought – honestly, this might be the most normal thing Mars has made.

Lastly, Mars placed her fragment into the lifted hoof. She took a step back, then stepped aside to show the others.

“Well done, Mars!” the Sun said. “This might honestly be your best creation yet!” Then she noticed Black Hole’s form in flux. “Though it won’t last forever.”

As Mars got clear of Black Hole, he morphed back into his usual self with little trouble, throwing the fragment down. “You’ve made a mockery of me long enough, Mars!” he almost shouted. Then he heard a sharp clink of a fragment reuniting with his platform. “And in that time, you still found had the audacity to – ”

“Nope! You did it yourself, silly!” Mars stuck her tongue out at Black Hole. She then flounced back to the crowd, all of whom were varying degrees of amazed at her trickery.

“Leave it to the artist to find a creative way to distract the villain,” Mercury quipped.

Mars giggled. “Who else but me?” Then she turned to Jupiter. “Your turn!”

“You sure about that?” Jupiter said. “I don’t think my pets would appreciate getting sucked in – I certainly won’t.”

“Leave that to me,” Twilight reassured. “It’s much easier for me to teleport all four of them back at once than just you.”

“Good to know.” Jupiter nodded. After thinking of a plan of attack, she called out, “Io! Europa! Ganymede! Callisto!” She pointed at Black Hole. “Sic ’im!”

As though like a switch, each of the four animals instantly resumed their aggressive stances – and charged at Black Hole. Io shook his helmet from his head – which Twilight quickly scooped up in her magic. He quickly rushed in and bit down onto Black Hole. Unlike being exposed to bright light, here Black Hole was unperturbed – merely seeing Io as a minor annoyance that still commanded his attention.

Callisto flared her claws, and started scratching away at his form. Somehow, she was ripping chunks of his mass away from him. This both got more of his attention, letting Io continue his work, and let Europa and Ganymede burrow inside to cause a major disruption from inside.

“What infernal creatures are these!?” Black Hole bellowed, weakly, given his now sponge-like structure. “Get them off – get them off of me!” With a violent move, he managed to dislodge Io from himself, and flung him towards the vortex.

Not on my watch, Io! With a quick teleportation spell, she brought Io back to her, then slipped his helmet back onto him. Io didn’t seem that much worse for wear, despite the apparent lack of air. So what’s really going on with him – and the others? Io tried to return to the fight, but Twilight held him back with her magic. “I think you’ve done enough for today,” she told him.

Io whimpered, but otherwise did not resist.

With slow, carefully-orchestrated movements, Jupiter strode up to a struggling Black Hole, trying to throw off Callisto and eject Europa and Ganymede, but having no luck with any. She slipped her fragment right into its place, somehow knowing exactly where it was supposed to go without any guesswork, then strode carefully back to the crowd. “Europa! Ganymede! Callisto!” she called back. “Come!” She gestured with a finger.

Without further hesitation, Callisto stopped her attack and jetted back to her master. Europa and Ganymede both dug their ways out of Black Hole’s tar, then too jetted away. Then everyone noticed that Black Hole actually started to shrink away back into his increasingly-concave planetoid prison. “It’s definitely doing something to him,” Twilight commented.

“And to his vortex!” Uranus pointed at it, and Twilight noted that it was smaller than before. “Unfortunately, its building density means its gravity is only going to get stronger the closer we get,” Uranus added. “We’re going to have to be a lot more careful from here on out.”

Saturn pulled out her cell phone, keeping a tighter grip on it than usual. “I think I have a solution,” she said through it. “Rumor has it that loud concerts can keep him away. Why don’t I put that to the test?”

“With what?” Twilight asked. “You left all your turntable equipment, your amps, and your records behind. How can you pull that off?”

“Simple.” Saturn then started pushing the phone’s buttons in a very specific and very peculiar combination. Dear Princess Celestia, here it comes. . . . Twilight shut her ears, anticipating something incredibly loud. When Saturn was finished, she held her phone high, and let it play out a tune. It wasn’t as loud as Twilight thought – so she uncovered her ears to hear what was essentially random cacophony. No time for perfection, just have to use something, she surmised. Definitely a much reduced bassline. But what about Black – oh. Well, how about that?

Black Hole was shaking like crazy – as opposed to shifting rapidly as though he were exposed to light, sound apparently made him vibrate, as though he were waves upon an infinitely-dark, gelatinous sea. It was so bad for him, he couldn’t even speak at all.

Saturn started approaching him, and his vortex – and she soon noticed a very strong tug on her hand. Her eyes went wide, and she immediately clipped her phone to the front of her pants, to keep it from going in altogether, and with it her advantage. Even when kept firmly in place, it still had a strong tendency to break and fly off. Still, Saturn did not let that bother her at all, and continued carefully advancing towards Black Hole, fragment already in hand.

When she got close enough to see the slight specks of orange in Black Hole’s form, neither of them said anything. He probably didn’t realize she was standing right before him. Saturn pulled out her piece and, carefully, looked for its proper place, taking her time. She soon found it, and it snapped firmly in place. As Saturn watched, Black Hole shrank away further into his prison, and the vortex collapsed further into itself – and its gravity only got stronger. She killed the ‘music’ on her cell phone, and switched it back to her speaking. “Got it!” she called back – which Twilight noticed was somewhat delayed, probably due to the nearby gravity well.

“Gotta say,” Twilight admitted once Saturn made her way back, “I did not see that coming.” And looking over to a now-calmed Black Hole, “And I bet he didn’t either, did he?”

Black Hole grumbled. “And now, all of you can see one boon of the abyss,” he said. “Silence! Nothing can bother you when nothing is.”

“Talk all you like, Black Hole,” Uranus cut in, “but we both know you’re almost put back away.” She pushed her way through the crowd. “Pardon me, girls – I’ve got something to settle with the villain of the hour.” Slowly, and especially mindful of the looming gravity well nearby, she walked up to Black Hole. “So. We finally meet, nemesis.”

“Indeed,” Black Hole replied. “You have mentioned knowing me quite well. But pray, what?”

Uranus snapped up a book she had brought with her for the journey – the same one she read from about Black Hole! Twilight noticed – and flipped it open to close to the middle. Wait, isn’t that – “When the Universe was birthed in the Big Bang,” she read, “gravity did not exist at first. It was far too hot and far too small to allow for empty space. Once the Universe had cooled. . . .”

Twilight was a bit surprised. Didn’t she read all of this to us before? she thought. So why is she doing it again, now? Not that she minded hearing such a fascinating history – it just seemed odd for Uranus to recite it at this time.

And it seemed even Black Hole was getting bored of it himself. “What is the point of you doing this?” he demanded. “Tell me at once!”

But Uranus merely waved her hand, quieting him. “However,” she continued, “should Black Hole ever be loosed upon the cosmos again, the consequences will be dire, and swift – ”

“Indeed they will be,” he thundered, “if you do not stop your infuriating nonsense!” A great lump of tar shot out and grabbed Uranus by her shirtcollar. “Get on with it.”

“I’ll get to it in due time,” Uranus said. “Now pay attention!” She returned to her book. “In the following era of constant expansion, myriad beings of the stars came into existence. . . .” Hmm, Twilight thought. I was expecting a deeper process than that, but alright then.

Black Hole apparently couldn’t stand Uranus droning on and on anymore – he simply put away his ‘eyes,’ absorbing them into himself, and chose not to pay attention to such random drivel, lest the girl drive him mad. He was tempted to simply toss her into the vortex, but then that violet unicorn would simply step in and stop her from tumbling to her demise –

Clink.

Startled awake, Black Hole looked down at his planetoid, just in time to see a newly-placed fragment – before he started shrinking down even further within. He said nothing, choosing instead to stew in his anger at having been tricked for what felt like the umpteenth time.

Uranus, meanwhile, simply skated back to join the others – though she miscalculated the now-stronger pull of the vortex and swung a bit wide.

“But. . . how?” was all Twilight could muster. “And why?”

Uranus laughed. “That served two purposes,” she explained. “He could either see the error of his ways and somehow reverse the vortex, or get so bored from me reading about him that he wouldn’t notice me attach my piece.” She firmly shut her book. “Either way, I win.”

“Gotta say Uranus, that’s rather clever of you,” Twilight said. “Definitely wouldn’t have worked on me, though.” She turned to the other girls. “Neptune, care to take this next one?”

“Righteous!” Neptune snapped up her surfboard. “Just give me a moment, I’ve got something that’ll blow your mind!”

Twilight looked to Uranus, concerned about what Neptune was thinking.

“Usually when she says that,” Uranus whispered to Twilight, “she means she’s about to pull off a rather dangerous stunt.” She pointed, rolling her eyes. “And of course she would bring her favorite board for that. I just hope she’s ready to cut her losses when it gets pulled into the vortex – and note that I say ‘when’ and not ‘if.’”

Yeah, here’s hoping. As Twilight watched, Neptune strode up not to Black Hole, but to the vortex itself. She sighed, and warmed up another teleportation spell – she’s definitely going to get herself killed someday. The unicorn could already feel the effects of arcane deficiency coursing through herself – but the job was nearly done, and she suspected Pluto would not need any of her help.

With perhaps misplaced confidence, Neptune grabbed her board and planted it on the surface of the side of the vortex. To Twilight’s shock, it did not enter its gravity well – it didn’t even sink in at all. Must be the same reason why she’s able to surf the Kuiper Sea at all, Twilight surmised. Then Neptune got on top of it – the gravity keeping her firmly in place – and pushed her skates along the surface to generate enough thrust.

The vortex, as much as it had shrank back, still dominated the girls’ field of vision – so it was a while before Neptune came back around. She wasn’t done yet, and had disappeared around again. Even Black Hole looked on in confusion – if only because she didn’t immediately sink right in.

Once Neptune was confident enough that she had brought herself up to speed, she started moving her board side to side – somehow kicking the vortex out of its spherical shape. “How is that possible?” Twilight found herself asking aloud.

“I don’t know,” Uranus admitted, “but it seems to be working – look what it’s doing to him!”

Black Hole looked like he had just about lost his mind – he was flopping about inside his almost-sealed enclosure, yet never bouncing out. Neptune must have been paying attention to Uranus mentioning the link between him and the vortex, and was exploiting it to the fullest. Guess she’s not the beach bum I thought her to be, Twilight thought.

After a few minutes of this, Neptune eventually came to a stop. With a surprising amount of strength, she leapt off the board, then peeled it off the surface of the vortex. When she (eventually) made her way to Black Hole, she found him completely dazed and confused from the ordeal. Even with him “looking” directly at her, Neptune simply placed her fragment in place, without any resistance, then confidently returned to the crowd.

Only then did Twilight retract her teleportation spell – her arcane reserves refilling somewhat. “That was too close, Neptune,” she commented. “But we’re just about done. Pluto?”

“Never thought you’d say the word,” Pluto said. She cracked her knuckles, grabbed her fragment, and marched over to Black Hole. Strangely, she didn’t feel any resistance from the vortex – no sign of any gravitational pull whatsoëver.

Twilight looked to the Moon – who simply shrugged. “I had not given her a spell to push past this,” the Moon told her. Okay, if she’s not involved, then. . . .

“My guess is she’s spent so much time in the dark,” the Sun proposed, “that she’s used to seeing vortexes like that.”

Vortexes in general, maybe – but that one? Twilight found this hard to believe, even as she saw it happen. Surely there’s a much better explanation than that!

Even so, not even Pluto’s hair was being pulled in. By the time she could get a good look at Black Hole, despite being in a completely pitch-black husk of a rock, she looked just as ready to pulverize him as when she first saw his vortex at the system’s doorstep.

By now, Black Hole had recovered just enough to see the black-and-white girl standing over him. “But surely, Pluto,” he said, “you can take pity upon a downtrodden soul like I.”

“Downtrodden? Pff.” Pluto raised a fist, and brought it down onto him, hard. For once, Black Hole whimpered at the impact. “Heh, feels like dough,” she commented. “But don’t call yourself downtrodden, you!” She swung again, and again, to much the same result. “All I see! – is some menace! – threatening my home! – Threatening my friends!” she said between strikes. “And I don’t! – cotton! – to any! – of it! – at all!” After several more punches and kicks, Black Hole was weakly begging for mercy, to which he only got a brash “Shut up already!”

Thought she’d resort to using her heavy metal music, Twilight thought. Guess physical force is just more ‘brutal’ for her taste.

By the time Pluto had run out of breath, Black Hole had been well-kneaded into one corner of his planetoid shell. “Maybe next time don’t pick a fight you can’t win,” she told him. She unceremoniously placed her fragment in place, and watched as he and the vortex shrank back even more.

Twilight watched as Pluto skated back, confidently. “I’d say that’s a job well done,” she said. “Now, about getting Twilight home, right Milky Way?”

“Yeah. . . .” Hadn’t heard her speak for a while. Guess she didn’t have much to say. “About that – ”

“Hold that thought,” Uranus interrupted. She had her finger on a page in her book. “If I’m reading this correctly – and I typically am – the vortex collapse should be happening instantaneously.” She looked up. “And yet it hasn’t,” she added. “Something must’ve gone wrong.”

“Should I pound him down some more?” Pluto asked, almost too eagerly. “Is that what you want?”

“No, it’s not that at all.” Uranus closed her book and looked carefully at Black Hole’s repaired planetoid. Then her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. “I can’t believe it. It’s that we’re actually still missing a piece! After all this time. . . .”

“Well, where could it have gone?” the Sun asked. “Milky Way, you were so sure every fragment landed in our solar system. We’ve searched every bit of our solar system, outside in – any place we could have looked, we looked over thoroughly.”

“There’s still the matter of searching the Main Belt,” Jupiter offered. “But the Kuiper Sea and Belt is basically hopeless.” She sighed.

“What fool do you all take me for?” Black Hole asked – his voice echoing through the rock’s hollowed-out opening. “When Milky Way freed me, I scattered every piece but one away from me – the last I had the foresight to cast out of this universe altogether, out of your reach no matter where you go.” He laughed. “You would need every piece to stop me, and yet, now, you find it is completely impossible to gather them all.”

“How is he not climbing out of there?” Twilight whispered, carefully, so as not to give Black Hole any ideas.

“He simply can’t,” the Moon explained, in a plain voice. “These stones we’ve placed prevent him.”

Oh well, isn’t that convenient? But the issue still stands – “Where is this place, ‘outside of this universe’?” Twilight demanded. “Tell us – right now!”

But Black Hole remained silent, and his vortex kept working its gravitational pull on the rest of the universe.

Pluto turned and saw her own planet start getting pulled in. “You got a death wish, old man!?” she bellowed. “Quit it!”

Twilight simply resigned to lying down on the stellar plane, losing all hope of going home. She had come so far, only to be foiled by mere trickery. She would never see Equestria again. She would never walk in the streets of Canterlot to and from Celestia’s School, never write or get a letter from Princess Celestia, never spend time with her dear Spike again –

Hey, wait a minute. Spike? Twilight suddenly remembered the object Spike found on the way to the bookshop – the very same object that she was looking at when they got back to their dorm, that had traveled with her when she was raptured by that cursed poëm. . . that was still attached to her with a ballantine spell.

A look of stark realization came over her – and with it, several scattered thoughts. I had a fragment on me the whole time, and I didn’t realize it? Then: Equestria must have been that place outside this universe that Black Hole mentioned – no wonder I couldn’t teleport myself back to Canterlot; it must be in another universe! But then why would the book bring me out here? Who wrote the poëm? Is Black Hole bent on doing the same to all of existence? Is Equestria also in danger?

“Twilight? Are you okay?” Milky Way nudged her stomach with a skate. “You look like you spaced out for a moment.”

Spaced out. . . very funny. “It’s nothing.” Shakily, she got back up on her hooves. “Although I think I have a solution to our dilemma.” Twilight finally undid the ballantine spell, and presented the fragment to her. “Look, I know what you’re about to say – ”

“Yeah, that would’ve been nice to know when I first met you,” Milky Way chastised. “Where did you find it, anyway? How long have you had that?”

Twilight sighed. “I had just gotten out of school and was walking to the bookshop,” she explained. “Spike told me found it on the ground on the way there. I had no idea what it was when I looked at it in the dorm, and when I got, well. . . here, it somehow came with me.” She looked over it once again – noting its equine sigil and pentagonal shape, which would fit the last gap perfectly. “I never knew it would be so vital – good thing I kept it on me, I guess.”

Black Hole growled. “I knew I should not have left a backdoor,” he told himself, though the others could hear him. “Perhaps that parallel reality was not my finest choice.”

Yeah, you think? “A backdoor?” Twilight asked. “You think that’s how I got here?”

“Oh, sure, if you’re not careful,” Uranus said. “But that depends on what triggered the event. What were you last doing when it happened?”

“I was reading a new book I had just bought,” Twilight said. “To be more specific, there was this one poëm on a page by itself. Something about eleven girls. . . .” Twilight looked at the Moon, as did everyone else.

“It was not me!” the Moon protested. “I do not have the skill to bring another here!” Though after a moment of consideration, she added, “As I recall, this rapture was a failsafe – meant if Black Hole tried concealing fragments out of reach.”

“Guess I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Twilight concluded. “Now I’m glad it was me and not somepony else.” She grabbed her fragment in her magic, and hovered it in front of herself. “Let’s see. . . .” She rotated the piece carefully, eying it against the silhouette of the remaining hole in Black Hole’s planetoid, making sure they lined up. “I hope this works. Milky Way, a little help?” she asked. “I don’t trust my horseshoes with the gravity well.”

“Sure.” Milky Way grabbed Twilight’s midsection and held her aloft. Carefully, Milky Way made her way towards the planetoid. Twilight felt a strong tug on her mane and tail from the vortex – I can’t imagine how the girls must have felt, she thought. Still, I mustn’t let them down now, not when we’re so close.

Once Twilight was close enough to see Black Hole’s faint orange glow, he asked her, “Are you sure you want to place that fragment, Twilight?”

“Yes!” she insisted. “Then Milky Way would be able to send me back – as per our deal.”

“Is that so?” Three orange “eyes” poked out, and several more features dotted up in what looked like a sneer. “But how would you know what she is capable of? I can certainly send you home, safe and sound – with a souvenir, might I add.”

Actually, that’s a rather tempting offer, Twilight thought. Why am I worrying about these girls at all? I’m just for a way back to Equestria – and if Black Hole can send me back, that’ll work out splendidly for me.

“You’re not seriously considering his deal, are you?” Milky Way asked. “After all we’ve done together, after all the times we’ve helped each other – why now, Twilight? You think we can’t do what he can, is that it?”

But then again. . . . “Thank you,” she eventually said.

Milky Way gasped, recoiling in horror – as did the other. Black Hole seemed rather smug.

“For the offer, I mean,” Twilight followed up. “But a promise is a promise – right, Milky Way?”

Milky Way stared down at Twilight – then lit up with a smile. “Yes!” she cheered, sounding relieved.

Crisis averted. “Besides,” Twilight asked Black Hole, “how do I know you won’t do the same to Equestria?” She started moving the fragment closer.

“No!” he cried out. “I won’t let you win this, burdenous beast!” Then Twilight noticed the vortex’s strength increasing severalfold – to the point where even Milky Way was having trouble hanging on. Her telekinesis was slipping, as Twilight now had to struggle against another, much stronger force. This is getting to be too much, she thought. “Moon?” Twilight called out. “I need your spell!”

“Then you shall have it!” The Moon quickly summoned it, and tossed it in Twilight’s direction, taking the gravity of the vortex into account. “Here!”

Twilight grabbed it in her telekinesis as it orbited around. She unfurled it and started reading aloud:

Twinkle, twinkle, in the night,
Magic borne from violet light –
What a sight!
With its might,
Power brought to greater height.

As she spoke, she felt her telekinesis strengthen substantially, as though her magic reserves were being refilled. Maybe that’s what’s happening, she thought.

“No! No! No!” Black Hole sounded desperate. But his begging was futile, as Twilight finally lodged the final fragment in place. The sigil lit in white, its light spreading across all the cracks in the planetoid – until it was completely sealed and Black Hole could no longer be heard from within.

“I’ve done it!” Twilight called out – which was answered with cheering from everyone else. Once Twilight and Milky rejoined the others, she asked, “So now what?”

“Let me see. . . .” Uranus flipped her book open and scanned the page carefully. “. . . as the local group soon found, when Black Hole was imprisoned, the vortex he had created vanquished itself in a most violent eruption, restoring all the contents of the universe it had drawn in up to that point. Those who stood in its vicinity were scattered along with the debris.” She looked up to see a very unstable vortex on the verge of collapse. “Uh-oh.”

“Duck and cover!” was all Twilight could manage before a massive explosion shook the cosmos. Twilight felt herself traveling at a ridiculously high velocity – is this lightspeed? she pondered. She couldn’t open her eyes to check, but instead covered her face with her hooves. Please don’t die, please don’t die – oh Princess Celestia, please don’t let me die. . . .

And she didn’t. Once Twilight felt herself slow down sufficiently, she lifted a hoof away from an eye, and found she had come to a halt – by the third planet in the system. A blue-and-green marble hung in the space above her, and nearby it an ashen-gray satellite – where the Moon, Milky Way, and another girl she couldn’t recognize had apparently been waiting for her. “You okay?” Milky Way got up and skated over to her.

“Ugh. . . .” Twilight lifted her head up. “What just happened?”

“You stopped Black Hole and his vortex,” Milky Way said. “We’ve won, Twilight. It’s all over.”

Twilight sighed in relief. “It wasn’t easy. . . .” She got back up on her hooves. “Black Hole put up quite the last stand, I will say – but I’m glad that’s finally dealt with.” She looked around, but couldn’t find any of the other girls. “Where’d the others go?” she asked.

“They all got flung back to their respective planets in the collapse,” Milky Way explained. “Uranus told me you’d end up around here, but she had to check her math on paper. Guess she was right!” She giggled. “She sends her regards, by the way.”

“A pony!” The third girl – a very young one at that, now that Twilight realized it – skated right up to her. “Can I keep it, Milky Way? Huh? Huh?”

Didn’t Milky Way mention having a sister? What was her name? . . . “Sorry Andromeda,” Milky Way said. Andromeda! That was it! “This little pony’s trying to find her way home, and I’m helping her get there.”

“Aww, no fair.” Andromeda started sulking.

“How did she get here, anyway?” Twilight asked Milky Way. “I thought you said you didn’t bring your sister.”

Milky Way sighed. “She just got pulled into the vortex at some point,” she answered. “All the more reason to stop him, looking back.”

“Yeah, that was way too close.” Twilight cleared her throat. “So, how exactly can you send me home? From what I remember, you can’t travel between universes – and the only one who can has been sealed away.”

“No permanent predicament,” the Moon replied. “Now come! I’ll show you what I’ve found.”

Despite being even more tired from the ordeal, Twilight still got up and followed Milky Way to the Moon’s home satellite – with Andromeda following close behind. Her equine instincts told her to kick, but she tried to ignore them. Milky Way wouldn’t exactly smile at me for doing that. “So what’d you discover this time, Moon?” Twilight asked.

“I think I can hijack his power for our own use,” the Moon explained. “If what he said’s true, then you are but a spell away from home.” She summoned a fresh parchment and grabbed her pen. “Wherever home is. Would you please describe it? Be precise.”

Alright, where do I start with her? Twilight cleared her throat. “Every morning, our ruler, Princess Celestia, raises the sun to start the day. Um. . . .” Well, that’s not very imaginative, Twilight.

“Woah, cool!” Andromeda kept her eyes glued on Twilight now. “Tell me more!”

This is going well. What else? “There are three kinds of ponies: unicorns (like me), pegasi, and earth ponies. Regardless of kind, all of them have a cutie mark – ” she pointed to hers – “that signifies our special talents, whether it be for gardening, singing, building, healing – what have you. Mine is for magic, in case you’re wondering.”

“Woah. . . magic.” Even Milky Way found herself star-struck by Twilight’s account. “Do all unicorns have magic in them?”

“Well,” Twilight continued, “while all ponies use magic in some capacity, Princess Celestia selected me to be her very own student.” She noted Milky Way’s and Andromeda’s jaws drop at this. “Since that day many years ago, I’ve been studying to become one of the greatest mages in Equestria.” I hope that’s enough for the Moon to go off with, Twilight worried.

As the Moon kept scribbling, Andromeda asked Twilight, “Will you come back to visit us sometime?” She ran up to hug her, burying her face in the unicorn’s barrel. “I’ve always wanted a little pony for myself.”

Twilight returned her gesture. “Sorry Andromeda, but this little pony has friends of her own.” Well, Spike – that’s one friend, at least. “Besides, ponies don’t exactly make good exploration partners.”

Milky Way sighed dramatically, feigning irritation. “You have no idea just how much of a pain Twilight was,” she told her younger sister. “Trust me, you wouldn’t like working with her.”

Twilight feared that the Moon would object to Milky Way’s lie – but she merely winked at Twilight. “And now I have a spell to send you home.” She floated a parchment to the unicorn, who let go of Andromeda. “Prepare yourself!” the Moon told Twilight. “It may not be a gentle trip.”

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to see.” Twilight unfurled it and started reading the Moon’s newly-concocted work:

When in the dawn Celestia’s light strik’s all,
The ponies frolic in the fields of green;
Equestria hears the daily solar call
Of sun-glow glinting in a pastel scene,
The fresh winds carrying not a squall,
The ponies working far as can be seen.
Another shall rejoin them in due time,
And sing alongside in their pony rhyme.

When Twilight finished reading, she expected time to stop moving, just as it had last time. Time kept progressing for her at the usual rate, but this time, she found her hooves glued firmly in place.

The girls decided to take a moment to say a few words of goodbye to her. “Thanks for all your help,” Milky Way told her. “I’ll try not to mess things up again, I promise.”

“I pray for your own safety,” the Moon added. “Even so, this universe will soon be short a hero. Fair winds, Twilight Sparkle.”

“Goodbye Twilight!” Andromeda waved enthusiastically. “I’m gonna miss you!”

Then everything grew silent, saturated, overexposed. . . until white was all Twilight could see.

Author's Note:

Publishing the story's climax on this day wasn't a coincidence. 9 October 2020 marks the fifteenth anniversary of the unveiling of Milky Way and the Galaxy Girls. . . .