The Black Between the Stars

by Rambling Writer

10 - Administrators

Janitors needed to get paid more, Applejack decided. They kept everything looking nice and tidy, they never got in the way, and they had access to absolutely everywhere. Time Turner’s office lock was protected by what was undoubtedly some top-notch encryption, but it all disintegrated beneath the awesome might of Applejack’s custodial keycard. Seriously, whatever they were making, it wasn’t enough.

The door slid open, smooth as silk. Applejack walked inside Time Turner’s office, and holy moly, it had carpet. Carpet was a major luxury item on board a space station, since it did literally nothing except make your feet a bit more comfortable. She looked around a bit, and her jaw got lower and lower with every square inch she saw. Wood panelling. Brass statuettes as decorations. Paper books. An absolutely top-of-the-line computer. A desk huge enough and solid enough to be brushing up against authority manifest. And a little Neighton’s cradle to tie it all together. This wasn’t just a good office; it was a spectacular office, perfectly fit for the head of research.

Shame about the body.

Applejack stumbled when she saw it. A brown earth pony in a black administrative uniform was sprawled across the floor next to the desk, his eyes staring blankly out, one of them bloodshot. His jaw was broken, hanging at an odd angle that somehow sent his entire face horribly askew. One side of his head was terribly swollen and blood was still dribbling from his mouth.

“C’mon, Applejack,” said Trixie, shoving her aside, “let’s get-” Her eyes fell on the body and she came to a halt. “O-oh, stars above, no,” she whispered. She dashed to the pony’s side and dropped onto her haunches next to him, leaning forward. Shakes wracked her entire body as she reached out, pulled back, reached out, pulled back. “N-no… Y-you can’t… No, no…”

Applejack hadn’t seen her own parents die. She’d just been finishing up her homework one fine spring day when Granny Smith had staggered into the house, sobbing. There’d been an accident out in the fields, with some timberwolves getting bold, and… well, that was that. Poof. Gone. It was so sudden, it’d taken a while for it to fully hit her. Even now, well over a decade later, she still wasn’t sure she “got” it; the funerals had had to be closed-casket. A loss that abrupt had more weight than an aircraft carrier. She didn’t know exactly what Trixie was going through, but she had a pretty good idea.

She took a seat next to Trixie, but didn’t extend a hoof. Let her make the first move; she’d want that. Applejack forced herself to look at Time Turner’s body. She recognized him, very vaguely. It helped get her emotions up. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Trixie could barely get the words out. “H-he was… I… Last, last night, he t-told me to…” She suddenly yanked Applejack over in an iron grip, buried her face in her shoulder, and screamed. Applejack reached over, patted her on the back, and let her scream.

When Trixie pushed away, her eyes were red and puffy. “Sorry,” she mumbled, wiping her face down. “You… probably don’t…”

“Take all the time y’need,” Applejack said. It wasn’t much, but it was all she could offer. “I get it.”

“…Thanks.” Trixie stood up straight, locking her knees, and took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said, her voice a single notch calmer. “Nopony’s here. But his computer is. Let’s look at some email.” Before Applejack could say anything, she resolutely marched over to the computer and started clicking away.

“Are you okay?” Applejack asked as she took a spot behind Trixie. She tried to ignore the bloody smear on the wall right next to her.

“No,” Trixie said, not looking away from the login screen. “But Trixie is getting there. Programming helps her think. Is his password still…?” Trixie tapped out a password that Applejack thought looked something like eyeH8P3ars. For a second, it looked like she was in. Then another window popped up, showing Time Turner making a stupid face beneath the words TRY AGAIN, TRIXIE!

“Oh,” said Trixie distantly once it booted her back to the login. “He… personalized it again.” She blinked twice. “He…” Deep, shuddering breath in. Long, shaky breath out.

“Want me to leave?” Applejack asked quietly.

“No,” said Trixie, closing her eyes. “I… I’ll be okay.” She sucked in air through her nose like a bellows and opened her eyes again. “So… maybe…” She popped out her TranScribe and started tapping at that, constantly glancing between the screens. Within seconds, the computer emitted a good-sounding beep and the login screen vanished and turned to Time Turner’s desktop. Once they stayed there for five seconds, Trixie smirked, but only for an instant.

“Okay,” she muttered. “Email… Here we go, finally…” She went into some kind of mail management software, and-

We’re sorry. Golden Oaks is running on auxiliary power and the mail servers are among the non-essential services that have been shut down to preserve fuel. Please try again when full functionality has been restored. If you feel that keeping this service running is essential, please contact Engineering to re-enable.

And that was it.

Applejack could feel her will break. They’d been chasing ghosts this entire time. All those wild hopes that, somehow, she and Twilight had a grand plan to solve everything, were gone in an instant unless she wanted to gamble everything and hope she could fix the reactors. Alone. Really, though, had she ever expected anything more? It was a half-wit’s plan right from the start.

Trixie didn’t look much better. She stared blankly at the screen, her mouth working just enough to say, “That’s… That’s not fair… That’s not…”

“So, uh…” Applejack coughed. “Now what?”

“You tell me,” Trixie said flatly. It was obvious she didn’t want to think much. “You’re the reason we came here.”

Right. Great. Applejack’s head swam, her thoughts a pulpy mass. only one thing made any sort of sense. “Y’wanna… look for survivors?”

“Where?”

“I dunno. Habitation?” A vague memory tugged at her. “I think that’s where Twilight is.”

Trixie watched the screen for another moment, then sighed. “Better than nothing.” She half-climbed, half-fell out of the chair and loped over to the door.

The hallway hadn’t changed in the interim; no changelings swarmed around in it. Trixie pointed down one path. “I think that way will take us back to the lobby, so- CAMERA!”

Applejack nearly jumped out of her skin. “What?”

“Cameras!” Trixie said. She was calmer, but she was still giddier than Applejack had ever seen her. “Look!” She magically grabbed Applejack’s head and wrenched it around. A camera was in the corner of the hallway, looking straight at them, its red light blinking. “We’ve been trying for so long to figure out what happened when, but we could just look it up on the security footage!” Trixie clouted herself on the head. “Stupid stupid stupid! Why didn’t I think of it before?” She dashed back into Time Turner’s office.

“Whoa, hey!” Applejack ran in after her; Trixie was already at the computer. “Trixie, slow down!”

“Trixie slows down for no mare!” Trixie proclaimed. “She is far too-” The color of the light on her face changed. Trixie froze for a long second and her ears slowly went down, all energy sapped from her in an instant.

“Can’t access ’cause o’ the reactors?” guessed Applejack.

“Can’t access because of the reactors,” confirmed Trixie glumly. She slumped forward and bumped her head against the monitor, emitting a long, pained sigh. “One thing,” she muttered. “If just one thing went right, we could do this.” She sat back in the chair and pouted at the screen.

“Well, uh,” said Applejack. She looked back outside. Was it even worth going out if Trixie was going to have another brainwave and run back inside? “So. Um.”

Before she could continue, Trixie’s expression changed. Her jaw tightened and she narrowed her eyes. “We’re going to the reactors,” she said quietly.

“Turnin’ the email back on?” Applejack asked. “Trixie, we don’t-”

“Not the email,” Trixie said. “The security cameras. Applejack, listen. There is somepony on this station who is willing to kill everyone else. We need to know who. If there are any other ponies still alive, they’re in danger. And I- I don’t want Time Turner to have died for nothing.”

Applejack and Trixie looked at each other. It was crazy, right? Neither of them knew a thing about the reactor systems. They didn’t know how the computers worked, what sort of safeguards needed to be disengaged to access nonessential systems. They didn’t even know where the reactor was. Continuing to blunder through the station to try to find the reactor module and praying they could operate it was a long shot at best.

But a long shot was still a shot, and that was what they needed.

“Y’know what?” Applejack said. “You had my back all the way here. I never woulda got this far without you. So if you wanna go down there — wherever ‘there’ is — I’m with you, all the way.”

Trixie grinned. “Of course you are.” Her voice had regained a slight lilt. “Trixie’s plans are far better than yours.”

Somepony was feeling better. “So where’s the reactor?”

One of Trixie’s ears went down. “Um…” She did something at the computer. “Okay, you know the central elevator in the lobby? Maintenance crews can take it down another level. And among the services accessible there? The reactor.”

“Perfect. Lead the way.”

---

Were earth ponies “meant” to work? The stereotype of one was somepony who was diligent and wouldn’t quit until the job was done. The Apple family stretched back for dozens upon dozens of generations, each one producing hard-working farmers. Hay, half the reason Applejack was up here was so that she could do some real work with plants rather than relying on harvesters and seeders to do it all for her. And now, with a goal still in mind and some concrete information rather than nothing but a wing and a prayer, Applejack felt something resembling good as she walked through Golden Oaks.

Sure, it wasn’t the greatest. The place had still gone to Tartarus on a tanning rack. But they had a very clear idea on what they were doing — getting the security cameras back online — and Trixie was growing more and more sure of her route through Central Research as they walked and she recognized where they were. They weren’t just grasping at straws. Clarity was a heck of a drug.

“So around this corner,” Trixie muttered, “we should- Aha! Yes.” They’d reached another security checkpoint. “The lobby should be right through here.”

“Should be?” asked Applejack. She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Temptin’ fate, are ya?” With their luck, that would lead straight to the vacuum of space.

Trixie tossed her mane confidently. “Fate already indulged itself upon Trixie back in the weapons lab. She has nothing more for it to feast on. This is the lobby.” She stalked forward and waved a hoof at the automatic door. She stepped back without even bothering to look as it opened. “Voilà,” she intoned, bowing like a magician on a stage.

It was indeed the lobby.

The lobby of Golden Oaks was a thing of Neo Deco beauty where even the poles holding up railings were nice to look at. Apparently, it’d made articles — multiple articles — in architectural magazines down on Equus. It was a carefully-cultivated cavern of opulence, grandeur, and conspicuous consumption. After all, it was the first thing visitors would see after leaving the shuttle bay; what better way to impress them?

The room was absolutely gigantic, stretching over seventy feet up — it was more an atrium than a lobby, to be honest — and with a floorplan big enough to hold a (small) buckball pitch. Small “stations” — central offices, a conference room or two, a medical bay, even a small museum — were dotted around three levels, connected by bridges and stairs. The infrastructure and walls were carefully concealed behind bits of filigree and art; the railings were real wood and the chairs were real leather and the gilding was real brass. Purely for effect, a bank of glass elevator shafts shot out from the middle of the floor and climbed all the way to the ceiling and burrowed through to the arboretum. An enormous sculpture of abstract art the size of a house hung above it all in the center point of the room, even wrapping around the elevator. And finally, one entire wall was taken up by a colossal window looking out over Equus. Even though changelings had clearly been through here, it was still largely intact and had barely lost any of its luster.

When she’d first seen it, Applejack had thought it an extravagant waste of resources. Now, it was her favorite place in Golden Oaks outside of the arboretum. At least, it had been.

She and Trixie inched into the lobby on full alert, but it was quiet. Too quiet. Applejack had never been to the lobby without at least some activity, yet now it was silent as the grave. The sound of the door closing behind them echoed dismally. Applejack glanced out the window; the sun was behind Equus and blobs of light dotted the continents. Home was a long ways off.

“We’re takin’ the elevator?” Applejack asked Trixie. “That one?” She pointed to the bank in the center of the room and tried to ignore the way the vast space made her voice sound.

“Right. It’ll take us down a level.”

“Good.” She knew those elevators, used them almost every day. They were-

Thud.

Applejack and Trixie both froze. It was a small sound, and quite far away, but it bounced ominously around the lobby. It almost sounded like a pony stomping.

“Tell me if’n y’see somethin’,” Applejack whispered as she brought the gun up.

“Uh-huh.” Trixie raised her flamethrower.

Thud. The tiniest bit closer. And maybe… above? Applejack looked up; nothing interesting presented itself.

Thud. “Excuse me!”

The two ponies froze again. Half because of the shock of hearing another voice, half because of who that voice belonged to.

“You there! Down there!”

Prince Blueblood.

A white-coated stallion, considerably worse for wear, poked his head above a railing up on the third level. Even from this distance, his blonde mane shone like a spotlight. “You ponies! Workers or whomever!” he yelled. “Could you come and get me? I am in need of help!”

Trixie made a Face. “Do we have to save that lout?” she mumbled.

As much as Applejack sympathized, her response was, “ ’Fraid so. I ain’t lettin’ anypony die, no matter how boneheaded he is.”

“We could kill him, you know. It’d look like an accident and-”

“Trixie!”

“Trixie is KIDDING! She couldn’t bring herself to kill any other pony. Not even him.” Trixie sighed. “Well, let’s go.”

They went to a staircase and wound their way up three levels to find Blueblood hiding and shaking beneath a table in a small conference room. His silken pajamas were falling apart where they weren’t smeared with grease and blood. His mane was a mess and he crawled out from under the table staring at Applejack like he’d seen a ghost.

She knew her ire wasn’t well-founded, but just seeing him made Applejack’s blood boil. How many good ponies had died today? How many families would have to have funerals without bodies? And then there was this airhead, this priss, this waste of space, this… stot. Why had he even been sent up to Golden Oaks in the first place? He wasn’t going to be useful. Never would be. Blueblood didn’t do useful.

“Hey,” Applejack said, with borderline hostility. Trixie didn’t even bother with a greeting, just a grunt.

“…I thought I heard somepony,” Blueblood said. He smiled, but it didn’t exactly reach his eyes. Or maybe it was just that his teeth weren’t their usual pearly white. “At least there seems to be some ponies still alive.” His mouth worked soundlessly for a few moments. “If we-”

Applejack wasn’t sure Blueblood would go on about, but she was willing to bet it was nothing she wanted. Escort to a secure location, probably, where she and Trixie would wait on him hoof and tail. In his own little world, he was the most important pony on the station and all of his whims needed to be catered to at once. Yeah, no. “We’re goin’ to the reactor,” she cut in. “If y’want our help, you’re comin’ with us. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

“-try to- I, I’m sorry, what?” Blueblood cocked an ear towards Applejack. “We really can’t spare-”

“Long story,” said Applejack. “But we’re goin’ to the reactor. That’s that. Take it or leave it.”

From his expression, Blueblood would’ve blanched if he wasn’t white already. “You- You can’t be serious! We need to find somewhere safe where-”

“We need t’go to the reactor.” Applejack glanced over her shoulder. “Trixie, y’wanna go to the reactor?”

“Yes, Applejack,” Trixie said, her voice tense enough to be cut with a butter knife. “Trixie wants to go to the reactor.” She was glaring at Blueblood like he’d butchered her family, then declared the meat too poor to even consider saving.

“See?” Applejack said to Blueblood. “You’re outvoted. We’re goin’ to the reactor.” She turned around and exited the conference room without looking back. Trixie followed near-instantly.

She wasn’t leaving Blueblood behind, of course, no matter how much she rolled her eyes at the poncy twit. No, this was simpler: force him to come with them. He wouldn’t want to sit around alone. He’d complain, he’d lag, he’d moan, but he’d follow along. Applejack expected hoofsteps in three… two… one…

Clip-clop, clip-clop- And Blueblood was right next to her. “I, uhm,” he said in a well-practiced rump-covering tone, “suppose that, ah, sticking together is, eh, wise.” His grin was spectacularly feeble.

“Listen,” Applejack snapped, jabbing him in the chest, “we ain’t got time for any o’ your royal prissiness. If me or Trixie here tells you t’do somethin’, you’re doin’ it and that’s final. Got it?” Just because she was saving his sorry tail didn’t mean she needed to be nice about it.

Blueblood twitched back two or three inches. “But I-”

“Got it?”

“I just think-”

“Got it?”

“G-got it.” Blueblood nodded shakily.

“Good.”

Applejack led the trio back downstairs to the elevator bank and punched the button to call a car. As she heard the familiar hum of one slowly descending from the arboretum, she idly glanced at her companions. What a group: a shotgun-toting gardener, a self-satisfied hacker, and a prince in dirty pajamas. Well, desperate times and all. If they got out of this alive, their little motley crew was going to be the least strange thing about it.

Once the elevator arrived, they all piled in. Luckily, it was high-capacity, so they weren’t cramped, but Blueblood still didn’t look at either of them. Trixie whipped out her computer and a few seconds later, they were heading down. “How far’s it?” Applejack asked Trixie.

Trixie waved Applejack away. “Oh, not far at all. Twenty feet down? We’ll be there before I finish-”

The lights flickered and the car jolted to a stop.

“Consarn it, Trixie, not again.”

“This is not Trixie’s fault!”

Blueblood was already getting antsy. “Are we stuck? We’re stuck, aren’t we?” He trotted in place, flicking his ears and looking around like a monster was going to jump from empty space to devour him. “We’re going to be trapped here forever! Oh, I should’ve-”

“Shut up,” snapped Applejack. “We ain’t stuck, not yet.” Technically. Although, if Trixie wasn’t exaggerating and the maintenance levels really were that close… “Gimme a minute.” She turned her attention to the doors of the elevator.

They were like elevator doors on Equus, meeting at a crack in the middle. Hopefully, they weren’t secured shut by anything. Applejack wiggled her hoof wedgelike into that crack and shoved all her weight onto it. The doors budged open an inch. She pushed again and got two more inches. That was enough for her to force her wrench into the gap as a brace. With a heave and a ho and earth pony strength, she wrestled the door open another foot. And right behind that, the top two feet of the maintenance doors. Perfect.

“Trixie, Blueblood,” Applejack grunted. “Hold this.”

“But I-” began Blueblood.

“On it,” said Trixie. A haze sparkled into existence around the door and the pressure on Applejack’s hooves lessened. She released the first door and, in spite of the terrible angle, managed to work the second door open. Beyond, more maintenance corridors. Joy. At least they were on the right track.

“Alright,” said Applejack. “Blueblood, get on through.”

“But I-! Very well.” Blueblood gulped, dropped to his stomach, and shimmied backward towards the doors. With a bit of trepidation, he managed to work his way through the gap and dropped to the floor with a wimpy little grunt. A few seconds later, another glow enveloped the outer door. “I have it,” said Blueblood.

Huh. Applejack had thought she’d have to browbeat Blueblood into helping. Maybe he wouldn’t be so worthless after all. She wiggled into the hole (it was smaller than it looked) and lowered herself down without too much trouble. A few seconds and some door-swapping later, Trixie was out, too. She brushed herself down and said darkly, “Let’s not take the elevators again.”

“No,” said Blueblood. “Let’s not.” He opened his mouth, paused, and said, “Reactor?”

“Reactor,” said Applejack.

The hallway they were in was wide and utilitarian, clearly not much more than a conduit linking two modules together. It was also short, with a big door standing about twenty feet away. And on one wall were the doors to a large service elevator and its maintenance stairwell. Trixie trotted over to this; specifically, a small sign next to it. “It should be a straight shot to the reactor from here,” she said, skimming the sign. “And these are all the modules at each floor… Ah, here we are!” she said brightly. “Level 9. Reactor… level 1.” She pursed her lips so tightly you could almost hear them squeak. “Still. No elevators.”

Blueblood cleared his throat and forced a smile. “Well, let’s get to it.”

Applejack glumly nodded and opened the door to the stairwell. Metal steps wound down a metal shaft nearly out of sight, lit only by dim bulbs at the landings. She glanced at the number on the wall next to her. 9.

Hooboy. Already Applejack missed elevators.

Comments

[TCC56]

Motley crew indeed.

[Level Dasher]

Hm. I have a feeling Blueblood is going to be more crucial than they think. One extra body, no matter who they are, can be a blessing or a curse; hopefully in this case it'll be the former.

[Screw]

What a curious crew. I feel sad that what Trixie and Time Turner had going has permanently ended. It almost sounds like a start to a growing relationship. I am now keeping an open eye on how Blueblood will act and react as this goes on. He does seem innocent

[EatenbyaGrue]

What a group: a shotgun-toting gardener, a self-satisfied hacker, and a prince in dirty pajamas.

"self-satisfied hacker" is obviously the best. It even abbreviates as SSH