Chapter 4
The lander cut through the night toward the mountains below. The viewscreen showed their targets – the Phrygian, bright and sharp under radar, and the ridge to the ship’s north, a scrambled mess of rocks and voids. The craft shook as it gained speed, and Zenith’s hoof hovered nervously over the manual override switch, ready to take over flight if Chrysalis lost control. So far, however, the strange pony up on the Dorian had managed ably enough. Perhaps she was a pegasus like Rainbow Dash.
“We’ll reach the ridge in a few minutes,” Chrysalis said. A note of barely hidden amusement lurked in her voice. Patronizing. “What would you like to do then, Zenith?”
“Obviously, we have to find her.” Zenith tried to modify the viewscreen’s parameters and found that Chrysalis had them locked. “She should be the warmest object on the mountain. Try an IR scan?”
“That I can do.” The viewscreen flashed and was replaced with a black-and-white image of the mountain below. Warmer rocks, still radiating some of the sun’s heat, glowed a bright white; the Phrygian was a black silhouette. “Of course, she’ll likely be wearing a suit.”
Right. Zenith swallowed. “The suits have ferric components. You might be able to induce a current in it with radio waves.”
“Radio, radio… Let’s see.” Chrysalis let out a quiet hum. “You know, Twilight made this look so easy. She just hit a few buttons, and whatever she wanted to happen, happened! Maybe I should go get her?”
Uh. “I don’t think she’d want to help.”
“Silly, I wouldn’t give her a choice.” More humming, followed by, “Aha! Let’s see what this does.”
A frisson ran through Zenith’s body, and bright sparks snapped into existence inside of the lander. One connected the tip of her hoof with the metal frame supporting the crash couch, and she yelped in surprise. A flood of static washed over the viewscreen.
“Did you feel a current just now?”
Zenith grit her teeth. “Yes. Did you see her?”
“I wouldn’t say I ‘see’ anything up here,” Chrysalis murmured. “But if you mean, was there a radar return? Then yes. Let me put a little pin on your map.”
A red dot appeared on the map superimposed in Zenith’s visor. It wasn’t as precise as she’d have liked – it covered several hundred meters of the mountain, but it was a start. Nadir was heading further from the ship, if she had to guess, and was sticking to the steepest terrain. It might work to hide her from somepony on the ground, but against a starship in orbit it was no defense at all.
She tapped the viewscreen. “Swing around here? I think we can cut her off.”
“As you wish.” The lander pitched and swayed like a ship at sea as Chrysalis brought it about. “So, if you don’t mind my asking, why are we murdering your sister? Not that I’m opposed. Just curious.”
“It’s not murder. It’s justice.”
“Ah, justice. My favorite excuse.” Chrysalis chuckled. “No, really, what’d she do? Steal a stallion from you? I hate when that happens.”
“Fuck off.”
“Touchy,” Chrysalis observed. “And after all I’m doing for you. Is gratitude no longer a virtue among ponies?”
Zenith huffed. “Ask the others. Twilight can give you a full rundown.”
“Oh, but I want to hear it from you.” Chrysalis’s voice was a whisper delivered directly into Zenith’s ear. She could imagine the mare perched on her shoulder. “You know, when most ponies are wronged, they go seeking sympathy? They beg their friends for help. They weep at the injustice of the world. But you? This obsession, this monomania? You have sailed a million billion miles from your home, leaving everyone you have ever known or loved behind to die of old age while you sleep the years away, all in pursuit of this mare. That is exquisite, Zenith—”
“Shut up.” Zenith snapped. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“—that is admirable,” Chrysalis continued as if Zenith hadn’t spoken. “In all my years I am not sure I have ever encountered such an all-consuming hatred—”
“I said shut up!” Zenith struck the side of her helmet with her hoof. The headphone stuttered.
“—and it is delicious,” Chrysalis finished. The final sibilant drew out in a long hiss that faded into static.
Zenith stared at the comm panel. It was only a link with the ship high above, but it was the closest thing to Chrysalis’s physical presence in the lander. The air itself seemed heavier, oppressive, as if this monster had somehow infected it. She tried to speak, ran out of breath, and tried again.
“What the fuck are you?”
“I’m just a pony who wants to help,” Chrysalis purred. “Isn’t that all any of us want, Zenith? To do good in this world?”
Yeah, well, she had a strange way of showing it. Zenith shook her head and stared at the map again. Near the top of the ridge, where the valley floor rose up to meet the rocks, a small collection of alien ruins huddled in the lee of the mountain. Based on all the antennae, it was probably a relay station of some sort. A few out-buildings surrounded a central hub bristling with dishes and radio towers, all of them decayed or toppled. A single crater punctured the side of the hub, collapsing its walls and scattering pieces of concrete honeycomb for dozens of yards around. They were the only artificial structures for miles around, and a good place for a desperate mare to hide. She tapped the tip of her hoof on the viewscreen.
“Take us there.”
“Very well.” The lander dipped again, soaring just a few meters above the rocks peppering the valley floor. Dawn was approaching on the far side of the mountain range, lending a pale glow to the sky and washing away the stars. Only the Dorian and the massive alien station remained above. Ahead, the ruins appeared as the lander rounded a small hillock.
A loud crack rattled the lander, followed by a whistle and rush of air. Zenith yelped as the lander suddenly swerved and jerked to a stop behind a high outcropping. Little flakes of ceramic and plastic drifted into her lap.
“What was that?” Zenith looked around the lander and found a tiny hole in the craft’s shell, just a few centimeters above her helmet.
“Four millimeter magnetic rifle round, based on the size of the hole,” Chrysalis said. “I don’t suppose you brought a weapon with you down there?”
Fuck. Zenith bent over and yanked on a yellow handle beneath the seat, pulling open the craft’s survival kit. Amongst the flares and water packs and spare batteries, there was a small pistol that clipped onto the side of her boot. Her suit registered the additional hardware and added a target reticle to her visor.
“Oh, that’s cute,” Chrysalis said. “What do you think your chances with that are?”
Given a few more seconds, Zenith probably could’ve come up with a worthy retort. But as she squinted at the map, the lander began to rattle again. Outside the hatch, pebbles bounced on the rocks. Eddies of sand flowed uphill. A rumble built and built, shaking first her chest and then her limbs and finally tossing the craft so hard it struck the outcropping. The repulsor hummed with power as it tried to hold position. Zenith yelped in shock at the sudden collision and clenched the armrests in a deathgrip.
Outside, a new sun slowly blossomed into existence to the south, sinking toward the surface, growing brighter with every moment until it shined brighter than a thousand stars. Zenith flinched away from the hatch, her foreleg thrown up to cover the visor. In the final moments she saw the bones in her hoof like ghostly shadows through the flesh.
Then it was gone, and all was dark. Invisible swirling patterns obliterated her vision. The craft settled back into a sedate hover. She panted for breath, lightheaded. The suit trilled a quiet warning.
“Are you there?” she asked. “I can’t see.”
“Just flash blindness,” Chrysalis said. “Give it a few minutes.”
Give it a few minutes. Easy for her to fucking say. “What happened?”
“Something marvelous! Our nanochine friends just rewound an antimatter weapon about 40 kilometers south of you. I think that city is back.”
* * *
It took closer to twenty minutes for Zenith’s retinas to recover from being bleached by the flash. Plastic surfaces inside the lander were bubbled and cracked. The few organic items in the craft – embroidery on the crash couch, a polymer gasket lining the hatch, a paper instruction sheet inside the survival kit – were all scorched black. Her lips ached, which her suit’s medical suite attributed to sunburn.
“Feeling better?” Chrysalis asked. An eye chart appeared on the viewscreen.
Sure. Better. She nodded. “What’s going on out there?”
“The war seems to be starting back up. Or is it just now ending? Time magic is so confusing. Anyway, there are now several new stations in orbit, and they’re all doing their best to kill each other.”
“Forward or reverse?”
“Both!” Chrysalis laughed. A harsh squeal of feedback pierced Zenith’s eardrums. “They’ve only been alive again for a few seconds, and they’re already back to waging war.”
Fear gripped her guts. “What about the Dorian?”
“Eh.” A dry rustle sounded from the headphones. “They either don’t see me or don’t care. I imagine strange vessels are low on their priority list right now.”
Zenith risked a glance outside. The daytime sky was filled with sparkles – detonations high in orbit. There had to be one every few seconds, and each at least as powerful as the city-killer that nearly blinded her. She stared, unable to look away.
“It occurs to me that this probably isn’t the first time the nanochines have rewound this planet. How many times do you think they’ve fought this war?” Chrysalis mused. “A dozen? A thousand? A billion?”
“That’s impossible,” she mumbled.
“Everything about this world is impossible. That’s probably what Twilight should’ve named it.”
The ground outside the lander rumbled again. Zenith flinched, but the rumble faded away before it did more than shake loose a bit of dust.
“Fifty megaton surface burst, about a thousand kilometers from you,” Chrysalis said. “This is getting exciting.”
“How long do we have?”
“Well, potentially forever. But if you mean to escape, I think we might be too late. You’ll know for sure if you seem stuck in the moment, surrounded by things that are changing yet always remaining the same. It’s probably very confusing for them.”
That sounded like a very special kind of hell that Zenith wanted no part of. A well of panic opened in her chest, threatening to spill out as a cry or a laugh, and she squeezed it back down with force of pure well.
I’m not dying here. She flipped the controls over to manual, turned the lander, and shoved forward on the yoke. The little craft burst out of its hiding place with a shower of dust. The speeding air whipped through the open hatch.
A crack shook the lander, and a new hole appeared in the viewscreen. She gave it one look and turned back to the control console, where a much smaller screen controlled the craft’s mechanical functions. She tapped through a dozen nested menus while piloting around outcroppings toward a wide, flat plain.
But I’m not leaving without her. She tilted the yoke, and the craft bent its course into an arc, coming back around toward the head of the valley. Even with augmented aim, it was unlikely Nadir could hit the lander at these speeds. The landscape flashed by in a blur as she reached the menu she needed.
“What are you doing?” Chrysalis asked. “That’s dangerous.”
“I know.” The craft continued its wide turn until the ruins were dead ahead. A little flash appeared amongst the broken concrete, and the lander shook with another impact. She tapped through several warning buttons and finally found the control she needed. She swiped away the last warning and tapped the confirm switch.
The repulsors died. Behind her seat, the fusion bottle disengaged with a quiet click. No longer guided, or even powered, the craft sailed on a smooth ballistic arc toward the ruins.
There was no good way to abandon a craft in flight. When the ground was about ten meters away, Zenith jumped. Chrysalis started to say something, but the rocks rushed up to smash her, and after that Zenith had other concerns.
The suit did its best to protect her, but it wasn’t designed for that sort of punishment. Her legs snapped as she landed, and her scream drowned out the rest of what Chrysalis had to say. The world became a tumble, her visor shattered, and she skidded to a stop in a limp, bleeding pile wracked with agony. A hundred yards ahead, the little egg-shaped lander finished its arc, smashing into the concrete walls with a tremendous clap and explosion of dust. Somewhere inside its much-abused frame the fusion bottle broke free. A brilliant flash chased away even Zenith’s pain, and a wave of incandescent fire washed across the valley toward—
Zenith blinked. She was standing, somehow, on the bare mountainside. The ruins were a hundred yards ahead. Beside them, the lander bobbed a meter off the ground.
How… She took an uncertain step toward the ruins, then another. Up above, the sky sparkled with flashes.
“Hello?” A high voice emerged from the suit’s headphones. “C-can anypony hear me?”
Nadir! Her sister’s voice was like ice water poured down her back. She froze, gaping, and then stumbled forward again, picking her way over the stones up the hill toward the ruins.
“Please, I don’t know where I am,” Nadir said. Her voice fluttered with panic. “I’m, I’m… I’m in a suit of some kind. I don’t know how I got here. If anypony can hear me, please say something.”
Zenith laughed. A rock turned beneath her hoof, sending her sprawling, but she didn’t care. “I hear you, Nadir. Don’t move, I’m coming.”
“Zenith?” Nadir’s voice broke. “Oh, thank Celestia. I’m in some kind of broken building—”
She’s in suspension shock again. That was good. It was hard to aim a rifle, or do much of anything, in suspension shock. A giggle threatened to escape Zenith’s chest. She was nearly halfway to the ruins now, and the land flattened. A rough path meandered toward the structure, and she stumbled toward it.
“Nadir, I want you to know I was the one who found you,” she said. “It was me. Your sister. Nopony else wanted to.”
“I… Zenith, I don’t understand. Where are we? How—”
“Everypony else was willing to let it go,” Zenith said. The ground was even enough now to trot. She twisted her hoof a certain way, and the survival pistol attached to her boot chambered a round. The targeting reticle on her visor began to pulse. “They said they didn’t care. That it didn’t matter.”
“Zenith, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Nadir sobbed audibly. Her breath hitched. “P-please, just—”
Only a small crater stood between Zenith and the ruins. Something moved inside. She raised the pistol and carefully negotiated the slopes down, then up toward the ruined wall.
“But most of all, I want, I want…” Zenith stumbled. She was hyperventilating. She forced herself to take a slow, long breath. “I want you to know you failed. You called it freedom, but it was just murder. You said it was a strike for independence, but all you did was kill hundreds of innocents, humans and ponies alike. And they forgave you, because harmony gave them the strength to do that. Because they were better than you.”
“Zenith, I don’t know what—”
“Shut up!” She surmounted the final barrier of rubble. At the far end of the room, a pony huddled in a suit identical to Zenith’s except for the logo of the Phrygian stenciled on its breast. She walked over to it and placed the barrel of her pistol against Nadir’s helmet.
“But I could never forgive you,” she finished. “I have to make things right.”
Nadir flinched and looked up. Just enough light spilled in from the broken wall to shine through the visor, illuminating the weeping, swollen face of a filly no more than twelve years old. The suit, Zenith realized, was far too large for her older sister.
They stared at each other. Nadir spoke first.
“Who are you?”
The leg holding the pistol fell, limp. Zenith tried to talk but nothing came out.
She’d been so close. Decades, hundreds of light years, all the pain. She’d gone through it all with joy in her heart for the opportunity to have her revenge. To wipe away the stain of her sister’s crimes. And now it was stolen from her. The Nadir who deserved her hate no longer existed.
She sank to her knees and wept.
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I'd wondered if Nadir was going to be affected in the first chapter or two, then things got hectic and I completely forgot it was an option. Very well written.
Now, will they be able to get off planet without getting shot at with large weapons?
Also, I truly do wonder how many times the extinction has been reversed.
So Nadir also was rewound. Sorta ruins your revenge if your target literally is back to a point in their life where they didn't do the crime you're saying they did.
it is quite a lot!
ooh, very neat!
Eternal Recurrence, now in hard sci-fi form
now that is existential space horror!
oof
This AI is committed to separating each personality! So it seems Chrys can't do nearly as much as the others, but instead her specialty is being morally flexible and dangerous. Allows the AI to follow Zeniths self-destructive commands without compromising the other personalities.
Oh wow I hadn't considered that possibility. Reminds me of FoE and Fluttershys weapon!
Now that I finished reading it's time to go back to the quote in the beginning to re-read in a new light... So Nadir was some kind of freedom fighter? It never specifies what she was rebelling against but she used violence to express and secure her freedom while Zenith was so committed to her violent justice she lost any semblance of free will. It was only after violence as an option as taken from her that she regained her freedom to think and to escape. Even the planet itself is stuck in a perpetual cycle of cycle of violence which stripped its inhabitants of their freedom or even death potentially forever. It's a type of hell they brought on themselves.