Part 2: Storm
Outside the weather factory, Olivia could hear her world being dismantled. From the sound of it, the enemy was going up and down the dormitory, gathering every pony in the building and emptying their possessions off the clouds. She could hear the clanking of chains as they were put in irons, and barked instructions in Eoch that she could understand even without speaking the language very well.
The greatest fear of every citizen of the Solar System and beyond—a slave crew had arrived.
She was somewhere else, trudging through a tiny accessway wearing armor that magnetized her to the floor with every step. Voices barked in her radio—other members of her crew. Some of them occasionally muttered something about a contact, or else vanished with a few seconds of screaming and their signal going red. But the combat AI restricted access to that, giving her only the information that seemed strategically relevant to whatever she was doing at the time.
She reached a hallway, where an airlock door had been sealed. She thumbed the controls without effect, then twitched her arm to insert the probe into the silicon. There was a few seconds of silence as the penetration kit did its work, then the bulkhead clicked unlocked. There was no rush of air into the tunnel—no atmosphere on the other end.
She had already known that. But some little part of her, some tiny voice that still believed in fundamental human decency—it still hoped.
She pushed the cargo door open anyway, bracing one shoulder against the airlock and twisting with all her might. It rolled most of the way, and she was able to get one arm under the rim and shove, opening the way into a darkened cargo bay.
It had two levels, enough space to hold four standard shipping crates. Instead it was filled with tiny bunks, stacked ten high. But there was no gravity here now, nothing to hold the desiccated corpses to the floor. They drifted, along with islands of icy fluid. Bodily, by the look of most of it. Probably from the chemical toilets scattered about.
This was the crew of Ellis Station, recovered at last. The raider crew had vented the cargo bay rather than give up what they’d stolen.
“Olivia!” Lightning Dust’s voice cut through the memories, and she found she was suddenly back in a weather factory catwalk. There were a pair of figures coming towards them from the stairs, figures unlike the griffons she had seen earlier. They walked on two legs, and she could see bits of fur emerging from within an almost tribalistic armor. A little like what the pony royal guards wore, simple shaped metal plates on leather straps. Like something out of a museum. One held a crossbow in its meaty hands, covered with gauntlets. The other wielded a staff as long as its body, longer than Olivia herself.
They were humanoid, though it didn’t look like the joints bent the right way. And when they spoke, it was in a guttural language Olivia couldn’t parse. Not any she’d heard before. Lucky Break might not even be able to make sense of that one.
“I’m pretty sure they’re going to capture us,” Lightning Dust whispered, voice harsh. “We going to keep playing possum here or what?”
“Let them get close,” Olivia whispered back. “We can’t let them check if we’re dead. I’ve seen soldiers shoot to make sure. Your suit can take a crossbow bolt, but my fur can’t. I’ll deal with it.”
Or maybe Forerunner would deal with it. God knew the machine wouldn’t be sitting around while everything he had built was destroyed. He might be the only one here who was more enraged by the situation than Olivia. Olivia didn’t envy the machine’s mechanical revenge.
But those soldiers were getting closer. That they were pointing at her she could feel, without needing to lift her head.
I’m retired. I don’t want to do this anymore. Let other people fight.
And what, lay down and die? Let one of her friends be taken as a slave? Forerunner let that person kill him. What was he planning?
They were out of time waiting for it. Olivia could feel the clouds shaking under their footfalls. Any curiosity about whether it was their boots or some kind of magic that let them do it vanished in the face of an imposing threat. She heard a mechanism slide back—the crossbow was about to fire.
Olivia didn’t think anymore, she just moved. Adrenaline poured into her veins, and time itself seemed to slow. She jerked violently to the side, turning to see both her attackers.
Their faces were hidden behind helmets, fur bristling out of every armored opening. They towered over her, even more than Forerunner’s synthsleeves did.
The one with the crossbow pulled the trigger, pointed right at her. Olivia caught it between her legs, ignoring the pain as the flint tip ripped through muscle on its way, spraying her own blood. But the pain was something distant, something almost imaginary. No sooner had It risen in her than she filed it away to ignore, at least for now.
Both of their attackers were momentarily caught off-guard, staring at her in stupefaction. She couldn’t see through the helmets, but she imagined their mouths hanging open. Olivia didn’t give them much time to think. They’d given her a knife.
She leapt on the one with the bow with such force that her kick made a hole in the catwalk. She yanked the bolt out from her forelegs, twisting it around so the blade faced out as she impacted. There was an opening in the armor around the neck, and she jammed the arrow in deep, so deep that her enhanced strength snapped the arrow in half. The head stuck into the creature’s neck, the shaft jammed into the meat of her leg.
More pain, more blood. More distraction.
The hulking monster wobbled, then tumbled forward through the balcony, trailing blue blood from the terrible wound in its neck. Oliva leapt backward as its body went through the catwalk, then got stuck by the boots. It hung there, upside-down, blood spurting down into the machinery.
Less than a second had passed. The other creature bellowed in its guttural language, then lifted its staff to swing like a club. There was a blade along the edge, and those arms looked thick.
Olivia dodged out of the way of the incoming blade like this soldier was her dance-partner at a stage show. She felt it cut through her mane on its way, but that didn’t matter—she was within the creature’s reach now. She smashed into it with another enhanced kick, right at where human kneecaps would’ve been. It didn’t even wobble, turning to glower at her as it tried to bring the staff back around.
She didn’t give it the chance. I hope this is what you wanted, General. Olivia drew the handgun from its holster, feeling the metamaterial adhesive cling to her foreleg. She aimed and fired in a single fluid motion.
She didn’t hit it in the head.
The creature bellowed again, dropping the staff to tumble through the floor. It curled up, similar to the way a human would’ve done, and Olivia ignored its attempts to squeeze her with its legs. Unfortunately, she couldn’t aim the handgun with her legs pinned, but she could do something else. There was a dagger in the creature’s belt, within reach of her now. She yanked it out with her teeth, then shoved it under the armor and into unprotected flesh. The creature roared in protest, trying to dislodge her, but without success.
Olivia pushed her head up deeper, letting the enhanced bones of her teeth and mouth take most of the weight. It wasn’t much—all soft tissue up there. Blood and worse things sprayed out onto her face, and she ignored that too. The creature fell back screaming, and she let the knife go. All it took was another shove and the dying creature tumbled through the hole its friend had made. It didn’t stick by its boots, but kept on falling, striking the bottom of the factory with its back and passing through like there was nothing there.
Perhaps ten seconds had passed since she’d heard the first twitches of the mechanism. About the time she had before the artificial organs ran dry and time caught up with her. Pain too, though there were other kinds of training to deal with it. She felt the warm blood on her face where it had gushed, and there were more splashes on her coat.
Almost without thinking, she rubbed her face along the cloud, getting the worst of the blood off, then turned around to make sure Lightning Dust was okay.
The pegasus stared at her with the same expression Olivia herself had probably made the first time she stumbled into an organ-harvester op. Utter shock—and fear. Fear of Olivia, but also fear that anything like what she’d just done was even possible.
Olivia herself was still running on instinct. “They would’ve killed us,” she said, tapping Lightning Dust’s shoulder with one hoof. “No request to surrender. No negotiation. They were just going to shoot us dead to make sure. Us or them.”
“Celestia above,” Lightning Dust whispered. Then she turned and vomited over the railing.
As she retched, Olivia listened through the clouds. There were more soldiers out there, and they’d heard the struggle. They were coming.
This was no longer Olivia working almost as a guest in Lightning Dust’s factory. This was now her op, and Lightning Dust was the civilian she was here to protect.
And I’ll be getting our people out. Not today—she was under no illusions about her odds if she tried to confront a whole army of these people. They had ranged weapons, which made any Rambo-style offensive ill-advised.
Besides, she was bleeding. Not the worst she’d ever been injured—her leg wouldn’t even rank on that list. But she was losing enough blood that she would be unable to fight in a few minutes if she didn’t deal with it. There’s a first aid kit in the desk.
She shoved Lightning Dust to the other side of the entryway, opposite of the side with the gaping hole Forerunner’s corpse had made. “Stay low, stay quiet,” she whispered. “Soldiers will be coming in, they’ll have to find us.” She raised the general’s handgun. She still had six shots left. Not enough to fight an army, no matter how good her aim.
She didn’t wait, but started digging around in the desk. She propped the metal case up on the desk, so she could see through the doorway in its reflection, then started wrapping a bandage around her bleeding leg. It went deep red almost immediately, and the pain was starting to resurface. A grating, constant pressure, throbbing with every heartbeat. She could ignore it a little longer, but as soon as the danger was gone she would probably collapse.
Lightning Dust looked frozen, and didn’t even seem to have heard Olivia’s words. But the soldiers had, and seemed to be moving rapidly in their direction. More griffons from earlier, with one of the armored humanoids. Olivia watched them come using the polished reflection in the first aid kit.
Those griffons look like mercenaries. The humanoids must be their officers.
There were over a dozen of them, and more coming in from outside every second. The wall behind them was mostly gone, and there was a huge hole in the floor as well. Presumably this opening was how the “Storm King” and the other one he’d been talking to had come in and out. Must’ve been pretty impressive if Forerunner just stood there.
Olivia might be the best at hand-to-hand of anyone in the crew. But Forerunner should have been even better, his motions machine-precise. “What happened?” Olivia whispered, her voice urgent. “Lightning Dust, you were in here. What happened?”
The mare finally looked up. Her eyes were still a little glazed, but she was recovering. She’d been shocked by Olivia’s behavior, but not as much as other ponies. She had killed before too, after all. With her own hooves. And it hadn’t been in self-defense either. “Wanted… to talk to the mayor,” she whispered. “Forerunner said it was him.” She trailed off, the rest of her explanation silenced as Olivia’s translation necklace started squawking.
A tiny voice spoke from her necklace—one that wasn’t translating her words into English. Instead it was Forerunner’s voice, sounding urgent. “I was postponing his attack on Othar itself to evacuate. Now we need to get you away as well. Prepare to jump, but fall slow. I’ll decloak our evacuation ship and you can jump inside. We have a very limited window.”
Olivia supposed she shouldn’t be that surprised to see Forerunner had somehow used the translators like communications devices. If they could send words back and forth, then they must be able to receive. “Won’t… won’t he just shoot us down?”
“No. Make your way to the edge and jump as soon as you are able. I believe the remainder of his expeditionary force have been alerted and are searching for you.”
Olivia didn’t need Forerunner to tell her that—she could hear the soldiers massing in the factory. They’d found the corpses, and apparently decided that she was dangerous. Maybe they’re hoping we’ll fly away and they won’t have to fight. Cowards.
But today that was exactly what she needed. The bandages wrapped tight around her left foreleg were now a deep crimson, spreading clinging droplets wherever she stepped. She couldn’t run for certain. Fortunately her wings were still undamaged.
“Down we go, Lightning Dust,” she whispered. “Ride’s waiting. Come on.”
That was enough to startle her the rest of the way out of her stupor. Lighting Dust followed her to the edge. The enemy behind them surged forward, firing crossbows at random towards the doorway. There could be no taking cover behind the furniture, not when everything was made of cloud.
They jumped, Olivia spreading her wings for a glide after the first fifty meters or so. She glanced up in time to see several griffons leap into the air behind them, tightening down for a dive. Like gigantic eagles, and she was the mouse.
Below her, Othar was on fire. Half the trees on the island seemed either scorched or burning down, and every standing structure above the ground had smoke rising from it. She could make out a few gigantic corpses on the ground—fallen dragons, bodies unspeakably ruined by anti-aircraft fire. But there was no sign of AA guns now, and still dragons circling overhead.
Of course, that was nothing compared to the carrier. It was almost as wide as the island itself, a metallic behemoth that could’ve eaten the Emperor’s Soul and still had plenty of room for dessert. The whole thing was made of reddish, rusty-looking metal, with strange protrusions along its length like the bristling fibers of an insect. It was vaguely round, with a massive aperture on the bottom face. An aperture that was slowly opening.
The translation necklace around her neck barked again, but she didn’t hear it in the rush of wind. Whatever Forerunner wanted her to know would remain a mystery. But then the air below her shifted, and burning trees were replaced with the outline of an aircraft. The sleek, graceful body of the Wing of Midnight, Deadlight’s exploration ship.
She wasn’t the only one who saw it. Massive reptilian shapes in the air above the island were turning as well, angling downward.
The cargo hatch was open. Something emerged from within—a humanoid figure with only one leg stretching back into the aircraft. Forerunner’s synthsleeve clutched an accelerator rifle in both arms, and he was aiming in her direction.
A small explosion passed through the air above her, and Olivia was nearly ripped right off her flightpath. Lightning Dust seemed like she was panicking, but Olivia nudged her downward, staying well clear of the path of Forerunner’s fire. Not that she thought the Forerunner would hit them by mistake. She wouldn’t trust anyone alive to make a shot like that, even if they were the most skilled marksman in the world.
But Forerunner was a machine, and he wouldn’t make a shot that could hurt them.
Olivia spared one glance above her, and saw that several of the birds that had been following them now had ruined craters instead of heads. The accelerator rifle was meant for penetrating armor, after all. Bone didn’t really stand a chance.
They landed in the open cargo-bay doors a second later. Olivia’s foreleg gave way beneath her as she landed, and she ended up tumbling sideways with a grunt of pain.
This was no Sojourner, with the supplies for an entire expedition. The entire cargo bay was smaller than a single standard container, and mostly empty except for Forerunner.
Forerunner slid back inside in the same motion that he used to thumb the door closed. Whatever birds were still alive seemed to think better of forcing the issue, because no one banged on the door or tried to slide through the entrance.
“Hey Mom.” Lucky emerged from the now-open airlock, looking relieved. “We need to get you both into the acceleration chairs. Forerunner, help the major.”
“Already on it,” he said, before scooping Olivia right off the ground like a particularly large cat. How he could hold her in one arm and the high-caliber accelerator rifle in the other was a testament to the incredible strength of the synthsleeve.
“Fucked up my leg,” Olivia muttered, as she was carried through the airlock and up towards the main deck.
She’d seen the inside of the Wing of Midnight before, half luxury yacht and half warship. Deadlight didn’t know how to recognize the hardpoints and the repulsion emitter arrays, but she had. If she’d still been in command back then she might’ve questioned Forerunner’s judgement in giving Deadlight so much of their most powerful hardware.
Now she understood. This might be Deadlight’s ship, but Forerunner had equipped it. Maybe it had been an evacuation ship all along.
The acceleration chairs set into the wall were already rotated forward, and several were occupied. Mostly the few remaining ground-crew that hadn’t gone with the Emperor’s Soul. Dr. Born, Dr. Faraday, Melody…
“You were evacuating,” Olivia breathed. “Why? That fire is… impressive, but it can’t get into our bunker. And their ground troops are shit.”
Forerunner didn’t look at her while he spoke. Despite the human body he was using, he was still an AI. Nor was he taking her to one of the standard acceleration chairs, but towards the front of the ship.
A few seconds later, and he set her down in the station she recognized as the artillery turret. “Their carrier appears to be immune to most of our weapons,” Forerunner said. “I never installed heavy ordinance in Othar, nothing larger than the Hurricane. But the carrier isn’t what we have to worry about.”
He pointed at the radar screen. A dozen little blips were accelerating towards them, getting faster and faster. Dragons. “Protect this ship while I get this crew out alive.”
“I…” Olivia stared down at her ruined leg. At least a dozen members of her weather team had been taken captive. Some of those were humans, the rest the contractors they hired from Equestria. “Are we just going to leave our people behind?”
“No,” Forerunner said. He had slung the rifle over his back, and leaned down towards her to start working with the straps. “But we can’t retrieve them yet. I can’t brief you on what happened now. Just keep us in the air.”
I’m retired, Olivia thought, resting one bleeding leg on the controls. I was done with this world. Forerunner rejected me.
Was Olivia so bitter that she would let herself die? Her friends? Her instincts hadn’t let her give up and roll over before. They hadn’t changed.
She settled against the controls, resting her hooves into the grooves on the three-axis joysticks. She reached up with her less-damaged leg, and slid the mask over her face. Everything on the Wing of Midnight was made for ponies to use—no human would fit into these seats.
But then, Forerunner didn’t need an acceleration chair.
“Preparing for high-G burn,” said Forerunner’s voice over the internal radio. “Native ponies aboard, you may be briefly rendered unconscious. Do not attempt to exit your seats.”
Someone dropped a sack of cement onto Olivia’s chest. She felt herself sinking into the firm gel of the chair. Unconsciousness danced on the edge of her perception, and her injuries screamed in protest. But the air she was breathing was more pharmaceuticals than oxygen at this point. Her mind cleared, and the pain of her injuries became an even more distant thing.
I’m going to bleed to death if I don’t get this treated soon.
The visor lit up, and Olivia was suddenly floating outside the ship, disembodied. Instead of herself, she saw tactical overlays—flight projections, damage assessments. Highlights over each of the approaching creatures, and another over the terrible outline of the Storm King’s carrier.
A plume of energy glowed from below it, like a gigantic targeting laser painted straight down at Othar. But there was nothing Olivia could do about that.
But the dragons following them—that she could fix.
Olivia had been trained for this. She tracked the movements of the nearest dragons as they approached, then fired a spray of superdense tungsten rounds directly into their path. The Wing of Midnight barked quietly with each shot, roaring in a way she wasn’t used to after all her years of experience working out of atmosphere.
What in God’s name were these things made of that they could take so many shots and keep flying? The anti-collision system could turn small rocks into atomized debris, and punch holes in interceptor craft plenty big enough to let all the air out. But it took nearly a full ammunition rotation before the first of the dragons finally dropped. Holy hell these things are tough.
A glance at the HUD near the edge of her vision revealed what she had already feared—she only had two more rotations of ammunition before the Wing of Midnight’s anti-collision system was depleted. If they ran out, it wouldn’t be safe to leave atmosphere.
Who the fuck cares? It isn’t safe to be burned to a crisp either.
She didn’t conserve, swiveling to the next approaching threat and aiming directly for the head this time. But going at these speeds, with the wind blasting all around them, even the aim-assist and automatic tracking could be only so accurate.
It still took three continuous seconds before the next dragon dropped. And there were a dozen of them. “How much more juice do you have, Forerunner? I don’t think our turret is up to this!”
Forerunner’s voice came through her headset. “I am already accelerating as quickly as is safe. It is likely our non-enhanced crew will sustain lasting injury if we exceed four Gs.”
Olivia grumbled in frustration as she fired the remainder of her spool, and had to wait as the machinery loaded. Flames blasted in the air around them as the dragons approached—none seemed to be close enough to do damage yet. It was more like a fiery special effect, warping around the Wing of Midnight. But they were getting closer, and she could see heat warnings flickering on the edge of her vision.
“Give us a 20G parabolic burn,” Olivia whispered. “I’ve seen humans survive it without G-suits. Ponies are tougher.”
“Your injury is severe,” Forerunner answered. “I do not know if you will survive it.”
She shrugged, or tried. Such motions were difficult even under what she estimated to be at least four Gs worth of constant acceleration. But a few of the dragons were keeping up. She couldn’t even guess how their bodies could sustain the force. Probably for the same reason they could take direct hits from tungsten rounds and keep moving. Each of them was about the same size as the Wing of Midnight itself. If they got close enough to grab on, they might crush it to pieces in an instant.
Claxons wailed through the ship, so loud that Olivia heard them even through her headset. “High acceleration warning!”
The dragon just behind them was a creature of pure nightmare, with black and red scales and wickedly sharp teeth. Flames rose up from its mouth, aimed directly into their path. Olivia was out of ammunition, and they were all out of time.
She felt a brief moment of pain as the engines roared to life beneath her. Whatever drugs she was breathing weren’t enough. The world went black.
It seemed like the passage went on forever. Even at their pony height, it felt a little cramped. But Sarah wasn’t tall, and James could stoop a little. She could feel a track set into the ground near her hooves, and she scraped against it a little with every step. In its way, this incredible ring wasn’t that different from the way Forerunner maintained Othar. It was just orders of magnitude more advanced, more complex.
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” James asked again, and again Sarah had to resist the instinct to reach sideways and smack him in the face. “This doesn’t look like it leads to an ancient underground civilization. Maybe a drain, or somewhere we’ll find stacks of raw materials, or tanks of—”
“Be quiet,” Sarah snapped. “The one who gave me directions knew what the hell he was talking about.” But even as she said it, she couldn’t help but feel a little doubt creep into her mind. Yes, this would’ve been an enormous waste of resources to get her down here. To provide her with supplies. Could Discord be more of a cosmic prankster? Maybe his idea of a good joke would be getting her to “betray” Othar in the mind of Forerunner, and get her lined up for recycling.
Can’t think like that. She couldn’t, but already she was beginning to regret her decision. Running away from the Pioneering Society and the Forerunner’s stifling control had sounded like a good idea, at least until she left it behind. Those were her fellow humans up there, bodies notwithstanding. What if there was no place for her to start a new life down here? What if the mission was too hard? What if the changelings ate her alive?
And now she had James to drag along too, pointless waste of resources that he was. Sarah didn’t check, but she could’ve sworn he was staring at her. Maybe he should lead. Let him walk off a cliff or something.
But however much she might think like that, she would never have done it. Sarah was a con-artist, a thief. She wouldn’t outright murder someone any more than she would betray the Pioneering Society and the human race it represented.
The ground above them started to shake. She heard it distantly at first, then growing much louder. Like a terrible predator had started eating the island over their head. Rock tore, and she could’ve sworn she heard explosions. Othar’s munitions dumps? Fuel?
James stopped walking, staring up at the cavern above them. Their tunnel remained secure—there were no bits of rock tumbling down on them, or signs the metal was collapsing. The ring itself was a sturdy bitch.
“What the hell is that?” James asked.
Sarah stopped too. “Got a computation surface on you?”
He nodded skeptically, then pulled it out. He didn’t give it to her, even though she put out her hooves. Instead he stared down at its surface, trying in vain to get a signal. “Figures. I think I read somewhere that the ring’s buildings block radio.”
Or maybe there’s no radio to receive. Discord, what happened up there?
Don’t turn around. She could hear the anger in his voice—the first time she’d heard anything from him other than simple amusement. If you open this shaft from the other end, you will be killed. You need to get into the superstructure as quickly as possible.
Wait, what happened? Is Othar okay? Did those people die?
No response.
James was staring at her.“Are you having a breakdown, Sarah?”
“No.” She straightened, and almost told him about Discord. But then she thought better of it. The fact that this entire mission had been organized based on a voice in her head was probably not what he needed to hear. “That sound—it’s not safe up there. Some kind of explosion, maybe. An accident.”
But it didn’t sound like an accident. It sounded like someone was ripping the island into little pieces. If it wasn’t for the insulation of the tunnel itself, she might’ve gone deaf from the awful noise.
“Maybe we should go back and help.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You just got through telling me how useless you are. I don’t know what that is, but I think a munitions engineer is the least of their worries. They don’t need me to help translate either—they’ve got plenty of ponies for that. They’ve got several versions of you for that.” She turned back, staring off down the tunnel. The explosions illuminated something else up ahead—there was a much larger room about a kilometer further, one that seemed to be mostly filled with fluid. “Whatever that was, it’s just more reason to keep going. We’re not useful to them, but if we befriend another civilization… well, maybe we need friends. And if we don’t, then they sure as hell don’t need us either.”
I fucking hope that you plan on giving me directions, Discord.
No answer.
James grumbled disagreement, but when she started walking again she could hear his hoofsteps behind her. So at least James wasn’t stupid enough to wander off and get himself killed. Not yet anyway. I can’t wait to be babysitter until this mission ends. Assuming it ever did. Sarah wasn’t a creature of “missions,” not really. Her scams didn’t end so much as she got away or she didn’t.
They said very little as they made their way towards the destination Sarah could hear and her companion couldn’t. It wasn’t as though they could say much over the constant roar of whatever was happening above them.
Sarah kept thinking of what it might’ve been, trying to come up with some way Forerunner might’ve caused all that noise on purpose. But she couldn’t come up with anything—not even some completely-insane atomic bombing to excavate would’ve made noises like that.
So did the station attack us, or something else? James didn’t let her even glance at his computer, and her own was broken, so she had no source of information. Whatever Discord didn’t tell her would just remain unknown.
Eventually the tunnel opened up around them. It wasn’t a dead-end, but a massive junction of some kind. A honeycomb of tunnels almost the same size stretched out all around them, each one completely unmarked and dark.
Most of the floor was broken with a circular pool, which frothed and bubbled a little in the white light. The water itself looked slightly greenish, with a depth that seemed endless.
Sarah made her slow way to the edge, careful not to stand on anything that looked like controls. She kept her wings spread, though unless the floor dropped out from under her that wouldn’t be much good. Maybe that was instinct too.
Whatever that fluid was, it didn’t look or smell like water. At least now they were deep enough that the constant grinding stopped. She could hear herself think again.
“What do you think it is?” James asked, reaching one hoof near the fluid. He stopped and seemed to think better of it, and levitated a sealed meal-bar towards it instead. He stuck the foil-wrapped package into the fluid, then out again. Aside from a few bubbling dribbles of fluid, the food bar seemed okay.
“That smell…” she whispered. It was harsh, but organic. Not like a solvent that might dissolve them into slime if they touched it. “And if I had to guess, I’d say this is some kind of… artery. For Sanctuary. And the place we needed to go was down… I’m beginning to suspect we’ll need to swim or something.”
She glanced to the side, but there was no easy way to get into her saddlebags. Some of the other ponies in the crew were flexible enough to get in while still wearing theirs. But she couldn’t. She had to shrug them off, then open her saddlebags while on the ground. Maybe there was some kind of rebreather in there?
This was as good a time as any to examine what equipment Discord had seen fit to leave for them. She would assume that James had the same gear she did.
Half of it was clearly food—though it didn’t look old and primitive like the bag itself. More like an equivalent of military rations, packed tight and made to feed her for long periods. There were a few vials of dark green liquid, like an exotic liquor Sarah might’ve seen on the set of some ancient sci-fi-classic, probably accompanied with cubes of dry ice for extra effect. A worn knife made of rusty red metal, and that was it. Not so much as a sleeping bag or a jacket.
Stupid Discord doesn’t know how to rough it. How am I supposed to go camping with this?
This time the mysterious voice was listening. You aren’t supposed to go camping, my dear. You’re going swimming. Deep into the bowels of Equus itself. The liquid before you is hyperoxygenated. It will penetrate and eliminate the air from your body, enabling you to travel at incredible speed.
She turned away from James, who was leaning down to lick at the fluid where it dribbled off his meal bar, walking away a few steps so he wouldn’t see her expression.
Hold the fuck up. This is safe, right? You didn’t just send us to kill ourselves…
Safe? This part is. Of course, ponies rarely come here, and you will soon discover why. That much is safe. But the changelings still might kill you when you arrive. You’re headed straight to their secret kingdom on the verge of a civil war.
Is Othar okay? That sound we heard…
Was not planned, Discord answered. What is a city but the continued existence of its citizens?
Did that mean they were alive? Don’t bullshit me.
Whelp, that’s my cue. Oh, and don’t expect to hear from me again while you’re down there. Their entire civilization relies on remaining isolated from station systems, and that includes me. But I have a friend waiting. Good luck! Enjoy your swim.
The sense of Discord’s presence faded again, and somehow Sarah knew it would be for good. Or at least until they emerged.
“Hey, so…” She turned around slowly, suddenly noticing what had happened to James. He had flopped onto his face, twitching and convulsing like a fish out of water. His breaths came in desperate, pained gasps.
Sarah didn’t even think. She charged forward as fast as she could, and shoved James into the water with enough force to sink him. And sink he did, though the water was clear enough that she could see him for at least fifty meters.
She stared after him, fascinated. The pony was changing. His back legs looked like they’d fused together, stretching out into a tail ending with a membranous fin. In a handful of moments, the unicorn stallion had become a unicorn… fish?
The ones who built this ring really are magic. We’re all out of our fucking depth here. Maybe I should’ve stayed home. Maybe James should’ve stayed home. Probably some trust-fund kid, drowning in money and opportunity. He might’ve been happier back on Earth. He could’ve been watching the world from the safety of some lunar suite, and never know want.
No, stupid. He did do that. He got to do both. Because there was no justice in the world.
Satisfied that her companion wasn’t going to suffocate, Sarah scooped her gear back into the saddlebags, now much more aware of why everything inside was sealed and airtight. She made sure the straps were on before she made her way to the very edge of the opening.
Last chance to turn around. But not even that. Something had attacked Othar, something that sounded like destroying the bunker would be more of an afterthought than a goal. She had no reason to doubt Discord’s word that leaving would mean death. Though the thought of leaving James alone here, trapped as a fish in this tank did amuse her.
James himself emerged from the edge of the water at almost that exact moment, glaring up at her. “That could’ve killed me!” he exclaimed—and somehow she could hear it. Do you still have lungs in there? A biologist would probably be fascinated to examine the corpse of whatever he was. But as for her…
“You’re the one who stuck your fucking tongue in it,” she snapped, glowering at him. “I wonder what that would’ve done if you were human.”
“Nothing good,” he muttered, before dropping back down under the water. We won’t be able to talk once we get under, right? Or will it just use water instead of air? Sound had different rules for different mediums, but that was no reason for her to assume this creature wouldn’t have some alternate method of communicating.
Discord said this was a transport method. Something about moving quickly and not getting crushed. She was the wrong person to be thinking about intelligent questions. So don’t think about it then, Sarah. Just get the fuck in there.
“Hey, goldfish? Did it hurt?”
James popped his head back over the edge of the liquid. He reached for her with a foreleg, but Sarah was faster. She stepped easily out of his reach, glowering at him. He couldn’t pull himself out more than a few inches before he flopped down and had to drag himself back in. “Not at all,” he said. “It’s great, you don’t feel a thing. Get in here, Sarah. You’re the reason I’m here. You’re coming.”
I saved your life, asshole. Hopefully she hadn’t really. Hopefully Othar was still around. But Discord hadn’t actually told her. Before Sarah could psyche herself out any more than she already had, she let herself tumble over the edge.
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Part 2?..
Wait, is that Sarah's real name?
...And she's a bat. Can't believe I hadn't figured out this was yet another instance of Jackie. She really does get around, doesn't she?
8962291
Looks like the writer got as hooked to the story as the readers.
Part 2 Sounds nice, i look forward to each new part.
8962442
Or Starscribe got tired of all the "wow this is more of a story than an epilogue" comments
Well crap. What now? They could crash on the Emperor's Soul for a while, but Othar had the factories and hardware needed to replenish its munitions and fuel and keep it running. Best case scenario would be something like Forerunner having secretly built another base somewhere already full of food and guns, but more realistically they're probably going to go to whatever country the Emperor's Soul just conquered. (Super dream scenario would be getting an army onto the carrier and taking it over from the inside, but I have no idea how many soldiers are around for that or how they're supposed to get up there. Do they have more of the cloaked ships?)
oh.. Connor will lick the blue blood .
8962473
Forerunner was building energy backup bases from way before Generation 4 woke up. If there isn't at least one mini Othar out there by now I'd be surprised.
Jackie? From Ponies After People?
Are you just reusing names from your other stories, or is this actually meant to be a connected universe or something? The "magic burst" or whatever it was (I don't remember the details very well...) would be a decent explanation for why the entire universe is devoid of life here.
I keep reading this.
It is good, but it's tiring to read. There's too much action, things coming at you one after another, with no time to breathe or take stock.
Also, Storm King is definitely OP. Next fic I write with him in it will involve kinetic orbital strikes.
8962716
More like Clara Oswald from Dr. Who. I'm not implying there's any relation between my universes.
8962436
Most curious, who/where from is this "jackie who gets around" that you speak of?
8962291
I always planned on the epilogue being as long as one of the other acts, but for many people that ended up being a little confusing. So instead I'm listing it as a part two. I don't plan on more after this, it's still the epilogue. But since it's kindof its own self-contained story, this felt more clear.
8963034
A former human-turned bat named Jackie appears in some of Starscribe's other stories, even when the stories are unconnected and they couldn't possibly be the same person. Let's see... I think different versions of her were in the Ponies After People stories, one of the Friendship is Optimal ones, Friendly Fire, and Steel Solstice. So, if I'm not missing any, this makes the fifth story universe with a bat named Jackie.
8963139
Oh, I had no idea Jackie appeared in other stories too. That's cool.
I called it on there being a new Jackie back when Deadlight's body was cloned. Although her mention here feels like a slip on Starscribe's part rather than a natural reveal or surprise reveal.
Another thing I noticed is a couple of similarities with some sci-fi I've been watching lately. Sarah has a lot in common with Dr Smith from the most recent version of Lost In Space, although enough different that it could be a coincidence. And the language used in this chapter reminds me of The Expanse; you've had high-G situations before, but I think there's been a shift in how you describe it.
Normal, un-enhanced humans can withstand 8 Gs, sustained, without injury or unconsciousness, and instantaneous forces far higher than that. Humans have been known to go over 40 instantaneous Gs. Mercury-Atlas astronauts experienced 8 during launch, and fighter pilots often hit that envelope. Most people pass out around 9-10 Gs with cardiovascular issues popping up around 11 Gs sustained. 12 can kill because the heart can't pump blood to the brain at those forces. I've personally been in a centrifuge at six.
I'm quite confused at this point about how slavery in Solar system looked like and why it existed. It's not like potential slavers would need slaves for labour with that level of automation, plus slave labour is low quality and blatantly dangerous in space: despaired slave could easily attempt to blow airlock out, or make hole in the wall, or something (if slave has powerful tools, he/she can do damage, if not --- why slave is needed?). Organ harvesting is mentioned in this chapter, but why it would exist if they already have technology for making whole bodies de-novo (plus next point). The value of slavery is most likely not instrumental --- the point is owning human being on itself. There could be some powerful rich fucks who are getting off of it and who are paying slavers, but in that case not massive "slave crews" are expected to be seen, more like "cloak and dagger" guys who are covertly abducting "interesting" humans (the same goes for potential harvesting).
The most obvious derivation here that is "ring surface" is inside simulation too. Add here Harmony's reluctance to say anything coherent about how it works... (but she doesn't know that)
8962468
Imagine Tolkien writting The Lord of the Rings as The Hobbit's epilogue.
I'm feeling this as an action movie where Olivia continually complains about being retired while simultaneously kicking a lot of slaver ass.
Sufficiently advanced technology and all that.
I'm having trouble seeing G1 James as just as competent as the other Jameses when he keeps doing ridiculous stuff like licking the mysterious green goo or trying to save a flying creature from falling by tackling her off a cliff.
Maybe you're right about being G3's pet, James. They should give you a leash to keep you out of trouble.
I think I went a bit too far there. Apologies.
I want an EPIC battle between emperors soul and storm kings carrier. NOW!!! LOL
Oh, if only she knew...
In any case, this Storm King seems to be an even more dangerous blend of competent and oafish than the canon one. There's a chance he does enough damage to the ring itself that Harmony smacks him down, but that doesn't seem very likely. And there's the question of what now. Not like Equestria's going to welcome the humans with open forelimbs.
8963993
He did...
8962885
OP or just using a weapon/force that they have no almost defense against?
I'm reminded of the fearsome and skilled warrior, swinging his sword around in an impressive display showing how he's undefeated... then Indiana Jones pulls out a pistol and shoots him dead with one bullet.
8963686
A few good points about slavery in the future.
For the organ harvesting and automation, it is entirely possible that the forerunner program was bleeding edge at the end of olivia’s Career. It might have put a major dent in slavery and organ harvesting well after forerunner launched.
It might be too, that slaves are kept as a prestige type of thing among the underworld. The slaves would probably be kept for service and pleasure. If you know what I mean.
It is also likely that the slaves were kept for prostitution, and if we really want to get depraved, might be captured for a rousing round of ‘the most dangerous game’
8969490
My point was not that slavery is unlikely at all, but that slavery at massive scale with medieval style slaver attacks such that everyone was afraid of it are unlikely. Also I avoid "political" arguments since we don't know anything about Solar system political situation (one of biggest slaver currently is a state, or something closest to it in some regions).
It probably was indeed, although it's self-replicating machine + biofabrication + autonomous AI put into a tiny mass-produced von Neumann probe. They had regular advanced automation and biofabrication much much earlier, so slaves as massive source of physical labour isn't even funny. The fact that humans fought in a war against slavers at all (instead of robots) suggests that there were no good AI until very recently, so slaves as machine operators maybe an option, but, as I pointed before, it's unsafe, and just hiring workers is probably less of a pain in the ass. Targeted abductions of humans suitable by biomarkers/good looking women (or men, children or whatever master likes)/tough ghetto guys (for hunt) and so on could totally be a thing. Prostitution is actually an interesting option for relatively mass slavery, and it strongly depends on it's legality and surrounding economic situation (like how easy to find non-slaves for it and how profitable it is to bother with mass slavery)
8970313
Many good points about it. In a lot of ways slavery is less and less likely with every passing year; people are realizing it's wrong, potential slaves are more likely to be rebellious and it really is just easier to hire people.
Something I thought of reading this line, is that it doesn't have to be a massive number of people affected. One example of this, is that depending on how loose your counting is 117 to 300 people were killed in mass shootings in the US in 2017; one in 3 million to 1 in 1 million.
Horrifying and pointless acts like a slaver run, or a mass shooting, or a suicide bombing captivate people's attentions and fears. It could be that the slaver cabals are comparatively small operations taking only a small number of people, and still warrant a massive military response.
8972961
Impossible to say really without knowing details about political and economical situation of Solar system.
If you want to theorize that it looked kinda sorta like modern relatively democratic country, then if some not very bright guys decide to openly attack citizens and enslave them, then they would be dealt with pretty swiftly, as you said. More covert slavery may as well exist (as it exists now) because it's a problem of prisoners, illegal migrants, junkies, third world hell hole inhabitants and other wonderful bottoms that no one cares about. Again, it doesn't look like it described here.
These things are not pointless: point of slaver run is, well, slaves, point of other two things is that kind of attention.
... Welp. It's the movie alright.
Didn't Qingzhi give her a gun?
Ah, finally.
Come on, Lightning Dust. You were there at the operation in Canterlot. Does this level of savagery in combat really surprise you?
That oath got a bit of a different meaning out of her mouth
Oh? A seven-shot revolver? That's pretty odd.
Talking about reddish metal... do they still have that anti-magic device? Did they ever reverse-engineer that? Would come in really handy right now...
There's no getting rid of that title
The right person for the job at that particular moment, Olivia. That's how Forerunner has always done things.
Now make yourself useful
Bizarre. I thought everything down there was marked.
Wait, the whole pool they need to swim through is also a transformation potion? What the hell
10896620
No, you're totally right. It has six shots. I guess shooting a minotaur(?) in the balls doesn't take ammo.
11112773
Personally if I had the option I definitely would have taken a Lematt as a ceremonial revolver whatchamacallit. nine rounds in the cylinder, plus a secondary barrel with buckshot