The Black Between the Stars

by Rambling Writer

17 - Survivor Group

Applejack led her group from the airlock over to Spike. Lyra was leaning against his side, blinking rapidly at nothing in particular, and he himself was lightly smacking Rainbow to get her awake. As they approached, Rainbow groaned and reached vaguely up; Spike grabbed her hoof and pulled her to her feet.

“Hey,” said Applejack. “They alright?”

“Lyra’s more than a bit woozy from whatever you stunned her with, but I think she’ll be fine,” Spike replied. “Still waiting on Rainbow.” He snapped his claws. “Hey. Rainbow. You there?”

“Wish I wasn’t,” Rainbow mumbled. Her voice had a slight lisp she normally didn’t have. “That… thing…” She rubbed her face and shuddered.

Applejack immediately trotted up to her and laid a hoof on her shoulder. “Listen,” she said softly. “You’re gonna be okay. You got-”

“Applejack?” Rainbow’s eyes focused and she spasmed. “Applejack!” She jumped forward, grabbing Applejack in a hug, sobbing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” she yelled. “Please, I, I didn’t mean-”

“Whoa, hey!” Acting on instinct, Applejack returned the hug. “I know you didn’t mean it, ’cause it weren’t you that did it. It was that alien thing.”

“I- I could’ve- I n-nearly-”

“But y’didn’t, and it wouldn’ta been you anyhow.” Applejack pushed them apart and looked Rainbow in the eye. “Look, we gotta get goin’. Spike said somethin’ about the cargo bay-”

“Uh, yeah.” Sniff. Rainbow wiped her muzzle. “We, we’re holing up there, getting the survivors we can find. It’s got supplies and we can defend it and-”

Spike coughed meaningfully. “We do need to go,” he said. “Killing that octopus alien might attract other changelings. C’mon.” He set off down a path, towards a small, out-of-the-way door at the bottom of the hill Applejack normally didn’t pay much attention to. He went slowly enough so that Lyra, still leaning against him, didn’t need to hurry.

Rainbow looked after him, then looked at Applejack’s group. Her eyes narrowed slightly at Blueblood, but she didn’t say anything. Everyone quickly followed after Spike, heading to the entrance to the GUTS.

The arboretum’s loading bay was… something. It was practically coated in bodily fluids — mostly ichor, but also a not-insignificant amount of blood. No bodies, though. Applejack risked sniffing and nearly vomited from the stench. Everything in the room — crates, machinery, rubbish — had been pushed aside to create a clear path from the door to the GUTS themselves. Pushed aside so regularly, in fact, that Applejack suspected there was a system to it.

Before they entered the room, Spike stopped them. He looked over the room, squinting at each object in turn. At one point, he stepped forward and stomped on one of a pair of innocuous cardboard boxes, which promptly squealed and melted into a dead changeling. That act seemed to satisfy him, though. “C’mon,” he said, and led them into the GUTS.

---

The Gravity Utility Tunnel System (somepony was really happy when they came up with that acronym) was, among other things, the main cargo transport network for Golden Oaks. During construction, somepony had had a clever idea: moving heavy things took a lot of work, so what if they weren’t heavy? One thing led to another, and eventually the GUTS were born. There were no artificial gravity spells in there, just a conveyor-like system of cranes (was that the right word?) to move gigantic crates from one level of the station to another. Applejack had heard of it, but she’d never wanted to go in there herself. She liked down to be down, thank you.

But blasting an alien and saving a scientist’s life in outer space meant she had some experience in zero-G, now, so she could at least tolerate it.

The seven of them stepped from the arboretum and floated into a bare, utilitarian tunnel that looked almost like a gigantic laundry chute more than anything: all metal walls. The systems for moving storage crates from zero-G to one-G were silent, but the conveyors were still whirring away. The tunnel stretched away into dim maintenance lighting like a cave.

“Alright, everybody,” Spike called out, “if you don’t know zero-G maneuvering, grab onto me and I’ll pull you all along. It’s a straight shot to the cargo bay.”

Most of the ponies found some part of Spike to latch onto, until he looked like a strange Hearth’s Warming tree. Applejack decided not to add any weight to him, since she could use her propulsion systems fine; Rainbow was free-floating, too. After confirming that everyone had a tight grip, Spike dug his claws into the conveyor and shot away. Even with her best jetting, Applejack had trouble keeping up with him. At several points, side tunnels split and she could only glance briefly down them, reading things like Magnetosphere, before they were gone. There weren’t any changelings around. No live ones, anyway; they passed several corpses.

As the tunnel whisked past them, Rainbow maneuvered herself next to Applejack. “AJ,” she whispered in a shaky voice, “I, I really am sor-”

“I know, Rainbow,” said Applejack. Spike began getting a lead on them, but she needed to talk to Rainbow more than she needed to catch up. “But, listen, it weren’t your fault.”

“I know,” Rainbow mumbled. “It’s- I felt it using my body, AJ. If it’d broken your legs, I would’ve felt it like I’d done it myself, and it not being me wouldn’t’ve mattered one bit! I feel terrible for what did happen, and if something worse had happened to you-”

“You tired?”

Rainbow’s trajectory went a little zig-zaggy as she looked at Applejack. “Wha-? I… I guess so. Why?”

“ ’Cause I know ponies don’t think straight when they’re tired,” said Applejack. Had Rainbow been escorting ponies to the cargo bay? For how long? She might’ve been at it for hours, enough to wear all but the hardiest ponies down. “You need to get some rest — real rest. You’ll feel better after that. And I- I know it wasn’t your fault, but I forgive you.”

A pause. Rainbow attempted to smile. “Thanks.”

“Hey!” Spike hollered down the GUTS. “You okay back there? We’re here!”

They exited the tunnels onto a good-sized, dimly-lit landing with a thick door and still more changeling corpses. Spike banged on the door as only a dragon could, sending deep booms throughout the room. “Spitfire? It’s Spike! We’re back!”

A pause, and with a whirring of machinery, the door ground open — to reveal several ponies pointing their guns at the group.

But before Applejack could jump, everyone had been pulled through, while the guns stayed levelled at the outside until the door was closed again. One of the guards, a yellow pegasus with flaming-orange hair Applejack could recognize but not name, wiped her forehead down. “Sorry,” she said in a tired but strong voice, “but we almost had a changeling get in here a while ago and we’re not taking any chances.” She squinted at the group. “Where’s Misty Fly?”

Rainbow and Lyra looked at each other. Lyra hung her head as Rainbow said, “She didn’t make it.”

The pegasus sighed and muttered something obscene. “You did your best. At least you got Lyra,” she said. “And…” She began pointing. “Applejack. Dr…. Zecora, right? And… Yeah, I don’t know your name.”

Trixie immediately drew herself up and puffed her chest out. “Trixie Lulamoon,” she said haughtily.

“…Don’t recognize that, sorry. And Blueblood.” The pegasus banged her chest. “Spitfire. Head of Security, back when titles meant something. Make yourselves at home.” She pointed into the cargo bay. “You’re gonna be here a while.”

Applejack got a good look at the bay for the first time; ponies, about fifteen, were spread around, either working on machinery or talking with others or sleeping fitfully on improvised cots. Large cargo containers had been moved to, presumably, block off potential entry points. Others had been broken into for supplies and food. In the back of the room, Applejack could see lights from other open doors. Unlike most of the rest of Golden Oaks, the place was fairly clean. At least it looked like a decent place to stay.

Spitfire glanced at Rainbow’s mangled wing, but didn’t flinch. “If you need medical attention, go through that door and ask for Fluttershy. She’s overseeing first aid at the moment. If you’re hungry, we’ve got food through that door. If you’re tired, I can help you get something resembling a bed.”

As most of the group dispersed, Trixie poked her hoof up. “And if Trixie wants to use computers?”

“Uh…” Spitfire flicked one of her ears. “Not sure. Ask Fluttershy, I think she’ll know.”

“Are they connected to the network?”

“…Dunno. Why do you need to know?”

“Long story. Ask Applejack.” And Trixie was gone.

“Wait-!” Spitfire groaned and glanced at Applejack. “Is she safe?”

“Sure. She’s probably just…” A pause. What had Trixie needed a computer for? It took Applejack a long moment to recall. “…checkin’ my email.”

Spitfire grew more and more confused with every word. “Checking your email? What…” She looked at where Trixie had disappeared to. “What is up with that mare?” She turned back to Applejack. “And what’s up with you? Your suit’s tracker kept jumping around the station like I don’t know what.”

“Well, it’s long a story, so be ready. See, I don’t remember much o’ the past week…”

Applejack covered it all: waking up in the trash compactor, Twilight’s message getting cut off, meeting Trixie and Blueblood and the rest, trying to find some stupid way to access her stupid email (or the security cameras), rebooting the reactor, everything. It felt like it’d taken ages. Part of Applejack ached and wanted to lie down, but most of her felt… not exactly invigorated, but ready to go. She was so close to seeing whatever Twilight had wanted, lying down now would be stupid.

“…then Spike led us down here and yeah.” Applejack shrugged. “Trixie pr’y just wants to get into the mailboxes or cameras and see what’s up.”

“…So… let me get this straight,” said Spitfire incredulously, flexing her wings. “You fought your way through the station. You rebooted the reactor. You ejected yourself into space to avoid getting killed by changelings. You killed an alien while in space. And you beat up a different mind-controlling alien that’s been hounding us for over an hour… all so you could read some email?”

Applejack blinked. Phrased like that, it sounded like she was some big-shot action heroine. “I… guess?”

“…Huh. Talk about hardcore.”

“Trust me, it ain’t as neat as I’m makin’ it sound.”

“That still leaves it pretty nifty. Seriously, after the reactor went down, we thought it was something a lot worse. You have no idea how good it was when it came back on. Restored a lot of nonessential systems that made things comfortable. So thanks.” Spitfire patted Applejack on the shoulder. “You’ve been a big help, trying to read your email.”

“Um. Alright.” Applejack lightly pushed Spitfire’s hoof off her shoulder.

“Also, uh…” Spitfire flattened her ears and her voice dropped. “Just so you know, Princess Twilight’s here-”

“What?” Applejack yelled. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? I need to talk to her now!”

“Yeeeaaah, uh…” Spitfire rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s not that simple.”

---

What had been turned into the “medical bay” was closer to a utilitarian break room for the cargo bay’s workers. The tables had been pushed aside to leave room for the ponies who had volunteered to be medics to work. It was mostly clean, which surprised Applejack; you’d think there’d be more blood, given the circumstances. Rainbow, Zecora, and another pony she didn’t recognize were all there getting checked up on. Rainbow was wincing as a butter-yellow pegasus bound her mangled wing to an improvised splint. Zecora was slowly breathing in and out as another pony listened to her lungs. The last patient was chatting with her doctor as a bad gash on her leg was bandaged up.

At the back of the room, apparently unnoticed by anyone, was a window. It wasn’t that large, but it was big enough to look out on the starfield beyond and provide a change of scenery from bare metal. Equus seemed even farther away than usual.

And Princess Twilight Sparkle sat in front of that window, staring out, barely moving.

“Shock is what we’re thinking,” said Spitfire. “She… She responds, sometimes, so she’s not comatose, but we can’t look at anything deeper without better equipment and… well, you see our situation.”

Applejack only barely heard the words. She sat down next to Twilight and examined her. Her chest was moving and her wings were flexing subtly, but other than that, she barely looked alive. Her eyes were unfocused and she was just so still. She didn’t react when Applejack got close to her or put a leg over her shoulder. Her uniform was mostly intact, but that didn’t mean anything.

“Twi?” Applejack asked quietly. “Y’alright?”

There was a brief burst of hope when Twilight turned to look at her. But from her eyes, Applejack knew Twilight wasn’t seeing her. And when Twilight went back to the window, Applejack’s heart sank.

It just didn’t make sense. What had happened to Twilight to make her like this? Even Blueblood was up and vocal, and Twilight was stronger-willed than him. It could’ve only happened in a few hours, between recording the message and now, since Twilight had been in tip-top shape back then. Had she just lost so many ponies? Seen something worse happen? Was this all part of her plan, somehow? What?

“We found her in Neurothaumatics a few hours ago,” Spitfire continued. “Just… completely out of it like that. We’ve tried getting through to her, but nothing’s worked. She’s not even eating.” She sighed and shook her head.

Applejack blinked tears out of her eyes. Seeing a friend like this… “Twi,” she gasped out, “I… I dunno if you can hear me, but… but we’re workin’ on makin’ this right. You and me, we made a plan, remember? I… I can’t remember one lick of it, but I’m gettin’ there. I got that email we sent to me. Remember that?”

Twilight didn’t respond.

“And I know that sounds bad, but I think it’ll work. ’Course it will. You made it.”

Nothing.

“And I… We… I’ll… leave you to it, then.” Applejack got up and left Twilight behind.

Spitfire led Applejack out of the med bay, whispering, “I’m sorry.”

Applejack tried to say that it was alright, these things happened, but what came out instead was, “Th-thanks.” She swallowed her grief and asked, “So, uh, you got any plans?”

“Effh. Some, but they’re not looking promising. Communications are down, and if it’s because of physical damage, there’s not much we can do without risking becoming alien chow. I sent somepony to the shuttles, but he said they were all wrecked and- never came back. Something’s up with the escape pods, we don’t know what, but we can’t launch them. And if this blackout keeps going, Equestria’ll send a shuttle up to- Don’t get your hopes up, I’m not done! They’ll send a shuttle up to investigate in like a week, and those poor guys’ll have no idea what they’re getting into.” Spitfire groaned. “It’s bad, no matter which way you look at it.”

So Twilight’s plan — whatever it was — was still probably the best course of action. Great. And they still needed to get into Applejack’s email to find out what it was. At least Trixie was on the case and they had a nice place to hole up in. But for now, all Applejack could do was wait. She wasn’t much for waiting. “Anyway, uh, y’got anythin’ for me to do to help?”

Spitfire shrugged. “Feel free to ask around, but probably not. We’ve got everything we can squared away.”

“I’ll give it a try, anyway.”

But Spitfire was right. Everyone Applejack asked had nothing for her to do. Not even pushing cargo containers into a better position for barriers. Food? Organized, rations already set out. Medical supplies? Organized and allotted. When she got desperate, bathroom? Cleaned from top to bottom. Multiple times. What did a mare have to do to find some work?

She slouched against a wall in the main bay area. Her hooves shook, not from fear or adrenaline, but an overpowering urge to do something, anything. At least out in the rest of Golden Oaks, she’d been walking around and had a goal. This almost felt like a step back.

Suddenly, Blueblood sat down next to her. He’d given up on keeping his pajamas and was wearing a CelesTech uniform that was only slightly ill-fitting — and since that was true for most employees, he didn’t look half-bad. “I know that look.” His voice sounded much less… structured? Rigid? Like he’d stopped playing a role Applejack hadn’t known he was playing in the first place. “The ennui of uselessness.” He smiled nervously. And genuinely. Applejack had never seen him smile like that before.

“Erm…” Applejack blinked as she thought it over. To her surprise- “Yeah, I… guess. Never woulda pegged you for knowin’ that,” she said before she could stop herself.

Blueblood laughed, but it was bitter, and when he spoke, his voice was distant. “Believe me, the two of us are very close acquaintances. I am a prince, and yet Mother never taught me how to be a prince besides the ideal smile-and-wave form. Responsibility was never a priority for her, especially not once she found a replacement in Twilight.” He pulled his legs close to his body and stared off at nothing. “She’s never so much as let me leave Canterlot without a minder, but she’s done no work to make me not need that minder,” he muttered.

“And you… actually wanted to do somethin’?” Applejack heard herself ask. Blueblood wanted to do something. The concept seemed more alien than changelings themselves.

“I wanted to be… more than a waste of space. But I’ve never been given the chance.”

“Oh.” Pause. “Sorry.”

And she was, surprisingly enough. Down on Equus, as Sweet Apple Acres had reluctantly gathered those harvesters, she’d felt shoved to the side. Worthless. Pointless. Yes, the harvesters needed somepony to work on them, but that wasn’t what she wanted to do. She’d grown up bucking apples. She wanted to buck apples. Blueblood must’ve had it even worse than her, growing up not doing anything. Yesterday, she would’ve claimed that he didn’t want to do anything, but now…

Blueblood swallowed. “Applejack?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“I-”

Even halfway across the cargo bay, they heard Trixie scream. “SUN BLAST IT!”

Applejack was on her hooves in an instant. “Sorry,” she said quickly, “but I gotta check this.”

---

The cargo bay had a small room full of computers where workers could coordinate deliveries, send messages to different departments about the status of their shipments, make orders of their own, and so on. And that was where Applejack found Trixie screaming her lungs out at a computer screen.

“Trixie?” asked Applejack.

“-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-”

“Y’alright?”

“-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-”

“Y’don’t sound alright.”

“-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-”

“Sheesh,” Spike muttered, making Applejack jump in surprise, “how big are her lungs?”

“-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-”

“Pretty dang big, I’m guessing.” Applejack stepped forward and smacked Trixie across the head.

Immediately, Trixie stopped screaming. She blinked, took several long, deep, wheezing breaths, and croaked, “Trixie needed that.”

“So…” Applejack pulled up a chair and sat behind the computer, face-to-face with Trixie. “Why’d you need that?”

“Because the SERVERS WEREN’T PROPERLY REBOOTED!” Trixie shrieked. “If they lose power like they did, they go through all sorts of automated checkups to preserve the integrity of the data and communications once the power comes back on.”

“So?”

“So there are a lot of computers down there,” said Spike, “and the checkups take a lot of time. They won’t be done for a while. Hours, at the very least.”

“Oh.” That wasn’t… that bad, in the grand scheme of things. Not great, but they just had to wait, and now that they had a secure location, they could afford to wait. She’d hate every last second, but she could manage.

However, Trixie didn’t seem to see it that way. “At this rate,” she groaned, “we might as well just go to the servers directly, pull out the data tapes, and look at the mail from there.”

“I mean, we could,” mumbled Spike. “Deep Storage isn’t far.”

Applejack and Trixie both turned to stare at him.

“What?” Spike asked defensively. “It’s not! Just a quick jaunt through the GUTS and we’ll be there! We could do it!”

“And you could find what we need? Like, physically,” Trixie said skeptically. “You know the system well enough for that?”

“Are you kidding me? I helped design it!”

“You helped design it?” Applejack looked at Spike’s muscles, as thick as logs, and raised an eyebrow. “You helped design it,” she said skeptically.

“You know Twilight, right?” Spike asked. “How she’s, like, totally taken with knowledge? If you spend all day, every day with her, it’ll rub off. I didn’t know how computers worked when I first started working for her, but after a year, she was asking for my input on library structures. Both physical and digital! And knowing where to find something for her is a big plus, so I know databases like the back of my hands and the Hoofy Decimal System like the insides of my wings. I guess you could say I’m a real… book wyrm.” He grinned toothily.

Neither Applejack nor Trixie deigned to respond.

“But seriously,” Spike continued, “this place’s databases run on SDTL-Massive, right?”

“Ye-esssss…” Trixie said suspiciously.

“I helped write that language from scratch. I know how it works, right down to how the bits of data are stored.”

“Oh, really?” Trixie stood up, her ears rigid. “Then why in Tartarus does everything depend on relationships?”

“Because once relationships are set up, it makes table joining much faster!” Spike snapped, quite draconically. “Filters can propagate across-”

And from the computer terminology, Applejack knew it was safe to tune them out for a bit; she’d never know what they were talking about. Assuming Spike was right… going to get the data physically wasn’t a bad idea. It sounded like the place was safe enough and he’d already proven himself more than capable of taking care of all of them on his own. And it meant less sitting around.

But what really pushed Applejack over the edge was the simple fact that this meant they’d have a plan. As Spitfire said, the most they could hope for now was to wait for another shuttle to check up on them in a week and pray the crew survived the first encounter with the changelings. That email gave them a chance at something else, no matter how slim. And if Twilight’s plan didn’t work? Well, setting around was a decent enough backup plan.

“-keep the cardinality down,” Spike was saying loudly, “or else the query time will be too large to-”

“Fine!” yelled Trixie. “Trixie… acknowledges that that particular design aspect has some merit.” She glared at the computer screen for a few seconds, then turned to Applejack. “Trixie doesn’t want to waste time staring at a computer waiting for a connection. She’ll go to the servers if you will.”

“Alright,” said Applejack, nodding. “Let’s do it.”

Comments

[Level Dasher]

Jesus, after reading to this point it didn't really occur to me that all this stuff was happening over the course of only a couple hours. Looking back on it, though, I realize all the pumping adrenaline likely made them all move really quickly, so it makes a lot of sense,

Hopefully the trip to Deep Storage is fairly uneventful. (pssh, yeah right)