Stellaris: Breaking Horizons

by dannny43

Chapter 2: Another Happy Landing?

"C'mon, c'mon! Hurry up! I see the smoke this way!"

"Glow! W-wait up! I don't think we're supposed to go this far... and be up this late. If Mom and Dad find out...hey! Wait! I said wait!" Silver Shade cried out as she struggled to catch up with her, too energized for her own good, twin sister, Golden Glow.

The two young unicorn foals were acting well beyond their parent's wishes, both having stayed up far beyond their bed-time, and now, traversing across the forbidden western orchard. All in an attempt to sate their curiosity, and what a night to sate it indeed.

As their parents slumberd deeply, both girls witnessed the greatest shower of shooting stars that the world had ever seen, almost akin to the fireworks they had witnessed years ago at the carnival. They could not take their eyes away from the spectacle, and as the streams of fire streaked in nearly every direction, one of them, a unique one amongst all the rest they had noted, came barreling straight their way.

Initially filled with fear, the twins were able to witness in absolute awe as the huge metal...thing passed overby, barely missing the family home, and with a resounding thud followed by the greatest of booms, crashed within the Hallow Shade Woods. Home of the nocturnal bat-ponies, beyond the farms property.

Their parents always warned them to never, ever, ever, enter the woods as the bat-ponies were the scariest of ponies all around.

Of course, Silver Shade and Golden Glow had no idea what a bat was or how a pony could be scary so they ignored the warnings multiple times, having spent untold hours exploring the woods to their little heart's desires. Glow did so for the mystery. Shade, just to be by her sister's side.

And so, this case was no different. A mysterious object crashed into the woods. An object of metal and fire and pretty sparkles from the sky. There was no pony better than Golden Glow to solve the mystery, and she could trust no other to back her up than her trusty side-kick/sister/fellow investigator, Silver Shade. Even if she was kinda being a stick in the mud.

"Silver, we've done this so many times before. Today's no different. In fact! It's super duper special!" Golden exclaimed as she hopped from one stone to the next.

"...Um, but you just said that today is no different." Silver's perplexed face correlated to her response.

"Uuuaaargghhh!" Golden groaned. "This is just so like you. Always getting caught up in the moment of heat... that's how you say it, right? Nevermind, look, what Mom and Dad don't know won't hurt them, or you, or me. Right?" Golden finished with a fluttering of her eyes at Silver.

"...What are you doing? With your eyes there?"

"Charming you." Golden chirped back, increasing the fluttering ten fold.

"...What's a 'charming'?" Silver curiously inquired.

Golden halted her fluttering, gears turning in her mind as she remained fixated to Silver. "...I honestly don't know. It's what Tulip said you're supposed to do when you see a colt. Turns them red and makes them do what you want, she said."

Silver could only scrunch her face in confusion. "...Then why are you doing that to me? I'm not a colt."

If one were to listen closely, one could almost hear the irrated whir of machinery within the young foal's mind. Golden continued to stare down at Silver, having not changed an ounce of her demeanor. "...Pffft!" That is until she decided to blow a raspberry. "You ask too many questions. C'mon! I can still see the smoke! Let's go stake our claim before anypony else does, we'll be jajillionares!"

"...I don't know, Golden." Silver replied, turning her gaze back towards the family farm. "...That was a big-big boom earlier. Mom and Dad might be awake by now. We should head home."

Golden did not see reason, only a challenge. "I'm sorry, maybe I'm not remembering things correctly, but I could have sworn that my twin baby sister was a pony, not a little itty-bitty chicken!"

Silver averted her eyes, allowing her mane to provide cover for them. "...I'm not a chicken."

"What was that?" Golden egged on with a devilish smile. She edged within Silver's personal space, hoof cupped to her ear. "Bawk? Bawk? Bacawh?"

Silver's face retreated further within the veil of her mane. "...I'm not a chicken."

Golden did not relent up. She folded her legs into improvised wings and started strutting and flapping them wildly around Silver until she found herself directly within Silver's face, ready for the cherry on top. "Cock-A-Doodle-Do?"

"I'm not a chicken!" Silver screamed for all she was worth. Knocking Golden clear off her hooves.

"Atta girl!" Golden bounced back, a huge smile of pride adorning her little muzzle. Despite her sister's teasing, a small smile also found its mark on Silver's face.

"You sure showed me! Now let's show everpony else! Together! Giddy-up now yeehaw!" Golden finished with a little swat on Silver's flank that got them both riled up enough to dart into the thick woods. Fortune favors the bold.

Curiosity killed the kittens.

---

Pain. Excruciating pain greeted Sergeant John Parson as his waking mind struggled to comprehend his situation. He had woken up, that much he knew and remembered. Heard a bunch of noises...screams maybe, and couldn't shut those damn sirens out of his mind. The whole world had continously shook like a roller coaster and in the time from then till now, however long that was, he managed to trip and hit his head on something hard and sharp, if the flow of crimson meant anything. But one thing was very clear for John now, something had gone horribly wrong.

The last things he remembered before entering cryo was the moments he spent celebrating with his team as they prepared for yet another voyage through space, making the most of their scarce free time before going under. In fact, they were celebrating Ivan's retirement. The old janitor had finally had his papers commissioned and after this ship made its run to Lucindia, the Captain himself would personally detour over to Draco II and ferry Ivan over to his sweet beach side casa, where the real party would have begun. Something tells John, however, that things may not have gone as smoothly as one would hope.

One usually expects to be greeted by Ainsley with a soothing song of jazz to help calm the nerves upon being revived, or something along the likes based upon your preferences of course. Instead, John finds himself sprawled on his back, hacking up nutrient fluid and in near pitch darkness that was occasionally illuminated by flashing sparks of electricity. If he focused his senses enough, he could even hear the emergency alert system blaring somewhere nearby, along with possibly a few distant distressed calls of people.

It didn't take long for John to fish out his portable flashlight and brighten his surroundings. Heaps of metal and crates and junk littered all over the cryo-chamber, along with the unfortunate remains of several cryo-pods.

Stumbling to his feet, a stream of red flowed lightly from one of the gashes on his temple. Tearing off one of his sleeves, he fastened the makeshift bandage before proceeding to one of the nearby pods.

Sure enough, the occupant, or what's left of them, was little more than a glob of minced meat and glass. Stincled on the metal casket was the occupants rank and name. Pvt. D. Carmine. John's youngest serving team member. He hadn't really had the time to bond with the kid well, but by all accounts, he was a strong-willed hard-working fine young man. What a waste, but not unanticipated. Working within military fields, one should always expect to encounter situations like this.

Turning away from the gruesome scene, John took the next few minutes to allow himself extensive looks of all other remaining pods, a majority of which produced similar findings. Sarah, Jude, Felton, Brominov, Irka, one name after another, most unfamiliar. All dead. Some pods were empty, an indication that some people made it out just like him. But, at the moment, John wasn't interested in anyone other than his remaining squad mates.

A few moments later, he found the remains of another team member. Cpl. J. Walker. Poor bastard was cooked alive within his pod based upon the heat and scorch marks surrounding him. The stench also helped identify the cause of death as well. Every security team had that one member, the heart of the group, the one that cracked all the jokes. Walker was that man, and the hole he'd leave behind would certainly be felt. John wasn't the openly grieving type per se, so he spared a few seconds of silence for his fallen friend, heaved a heavy sigh, and resumed the track down for the remaining three.

As his search came to an end some minutes later, he failed to find the bodies of his remaining team. Private Sayla and Private Keith, the team's lovebirds, along with Specialist Dawson left no trace of their whereabouts, John having found their pods empty along with their locker kits. That was a very hopeful sign, he concluded, but their location remained elusive. An issue that could be sorted out later.

Spotting a First Aid Station in the far corner, the Sergeant decided on treating his wounds while he could. Prying the station open, he snatched and applied a disinfectant wipe, administered a good portion of medi-foam, and injected a medi-stim for good measure.

The current priority? Follow Emergency Protocols. He needed to report to the commanding officer, assess the situation, and ensure the safety of all remaining crew.

The Audalis had made a crash landing. He remembered hearing the order for evac over the intercom. The Primary Force were dispatched to handle some kind of intruder and various members of the Tertiary Force, of which consisted of John, were deployed late because of power malfunctions. He had no idea about the Secondary Force. It was also because of these malfunctions that the latch to the hallway was without power by the time he had awakened, locking John within. Then the rest happened, he tried to brace for impact, sustained head trauma and woke up within the aftermath.

Hopping over to the comm terminal, John fiddled with the controls, trying to access any open channels. Alas, some internal damage must have been sustained as the terminal produced only sparks and grinding whirs. Any electrical instruments he attempted to interface produced similar results, a clear indication of a blackout.

Seeing how this was a bust, John pulled out his PDA and tried to surf the Audalis's ethonet, but it wasn't much of a surprise to find the network was just as frazzled.

"Dammit." John cursed. His latest attempt to interface a computer another failure after having tried everything to register a response. He even gave a good ol' fashioned kick for good measure. "Ainsly! You here? Answer me, that's an order!"

John waited for some time, repeating the calls in intervals, but no response was forthcoming. The intercom system was functional, that much John knew. The EAS, (emergency alert system), could be heard broadcasting outside through the halls, its distinct female announcer contrasting to that of Ainsly's monotone voice. His room may be under a blackout, but John had a sinking feeling that Ainsly was compromised or even offline. No help was coming in that regards, he figured.

With local cameras down, comms malfunctioning and the ethonet in disarray, John was left in the dark in regards to the state of the Audalis. Life support was still functional and the Captain did issue a complete quaratine lockdown based upon the last message received on his PDA, so there was good chance that outside contamination and exposure of whatever hell hole of a desolate rock they landed on was kept at bay. John, however, was not taking any chances.

Finding his locker relatively undamaged, John suited up in his heavy riot gear, locked and loaded his Pulse Rifle and standard issue Reager Pistol and grabbed his clearance card before turning towards his left to find a locked storage container. Inputting the card, the container hissed in a release of pressure before presenting a VCH. The Versatile Combat Harness was a lightweight exo suit that could conform to most body types and figures thanks to its sub-compartmentalized modules, retrofitting any person or armor with an additional layer of plating and shields along with acting as an EVA suit on its own. Durable and efficient, but very cost heavy. The Captain could only provide roughly sixty of the suits, supplying for less than half of the 160 security personnel stationed on the Audalis.

With his riot gear complimented by the VCH, John was ready and able to traverse through the Audalis, but not before spending a minute or two struggling to open the latch.

John was stationed at Security Station #6, Level 3, one of several identical compartments that littered across all levels of the Audalis. They acted as "outposts" for security to maintain a minimum presence across all corners of the ship. Each compartment hosted a local cryo-chamber for the more long term members. His members.

John's best course of action was to makeway to the bridge at the very top, on Level 5.

---

The damage within the ship's halls far exceeded the station. Large and excessive gaps within the flooring, electrical outlets sputtering uncontrollably, steam pipes and valves exploding from pressure buildups, wires and cords hung from exposed panels, obscuring further view like an overgrowth of vines, excessive flooding from plumbing, and worst of all, malfunctioning gravity tiles. One wrong step on one of those and you'll be hurtled by crushing forces at whatever lies parallel at speeds that'll leave you a splattered mess within seconds. Not even five minutes in and John has already found at least six casualties relating to them.

Not a living soul was insight as the Sergeant traversed the now derelict walkways. Only the bloody and gorey remains of the unfortunate provided any human presence aside from him and the EAS that rang all throughout.

[EVACUATION IS IN EFFECT. REPEAT: EVACUATION IS IN EFFECT. PLEASE REPORT TO YOUR NEAREST EMERGENCY AIR LOCK.]

"*Crkt* This is Sergeant John Parson of Security Team Kilo, does anyone read me on this channel? Over. *Crkt*" John radioed as he side stepped one more grizzly scene. The situation couldn't possibly be anything but FUBAR as even with his motion tracker set to the max 25-meter setting, he had yet to recieve a single ping.

"*Crkt* I repeat, this is Sergeant John Parson of Security Team Kilo, does anyone read on this channel? Over. *Crkt*" No response came through.

Coming across a four way junction, the south and western paths remained clogged with rubble and scrap metal. Traversing that direction would be nearly impossible. To the east, however, laid a dead end that consisted only of the Shooting Star Bar. The likelihood of anyone lurking within was equal to none but it was impossible to accurately assess given how the latch was secured under a quaratine lockdown.

It was then that John spotted a flight of stairs with a sign indicating access to Level 2. Backtracking back towards Station #6 was also a dead end and seeing as how all other paths were blocked, he was left no choice but to descend down into Level 2's engineering wing. The corridors didn't seem to fair any better than above, hell it seemed packed with even more bodies than before.

Crossing through the workshop hallway, John was about to try his radio once more before two pings registered on his tracker. Turning around the corner, he managed to spot two individuals further ahead, one of which was being escorted by the other because of a limp. A flood of relief flowed through John, his fear of being the sole survivor squashed for the moment.

"Hey!" John shouted out, catching the other two off guard, "You two alright!?"

"Security!" Cried the injured man, "Oh, thank God! Get over here and help me! My leg's cut, bad!" He finished as both men began rushing towards John's position, foregoing all caution from before.

"Wait! It's not safe! Hold your pos- hey! Woah, Stop! Watch out!" John cried out to the two but neither heeded his warnings, that is until it was too late. As both men pushed through the fallen debris, they failed to notice one loose and malfunctional gravity panel. In a split second, nothing was left but chunks of red paste. There was no scream, no cry of pain or fear. Within an instant of time, they simply ceased to be, one moment there, gone the very next.

John could only curse under his breath and add a dent into the wall for his failure. The two unknown's deaths along with his worry for the remaining survivors onboard were for sure going to leave him many restless nights of sleep if he managed to survive that far.

John casted his eyes back over the remains of the men, heaving yet another heavy sigh before turning to continue forth.

As the minutes ticked by from the incident, John would find himself traversing through several more halls, finding only more bodies and no clear indication of where else to go. Just As he finished with another radio check, the emergency lights flickered dead, bathing him in complete darkness, until he suddenly found himself blinded to the world. As his eyes and the suits sensors readjusted, John was relieved to see the primary light fixtures back up and running. A wall vent to his right hummed for a minute before revving back to life and even the electrical outburst were self containing right before him. The EAS was in the midst of another broadcast but the power reboot seemingly nullified its insistent use.

Before he could make anymore observations, three pings registered on his tracker to his right, coming from the direction of a local battery station by what the sign said. The auto door soon opened, revealing three sweat matted men. Each man was dirty and ragged in their own way, caked in oil or soiled with dried blood. Their haggard breaths and ragged apparel along with the plethora of tools equipped led credence to the belief of them being engineers. The yellow hard hat helped identify too. They all slightly jumped at the sight of the Sergeant and spared only a few seconds of a glance at John before shaking their heads and booking it past him back down the path he just arrived from. John was quick to follow.

"Hey! You guys okay? Where the hell are you going!?"

"Aft deck!" The leading man yelled back, not even bothering to slow down for the others

"Chief Engineer Adams needs all hands or our asses are screwed ten fold." Replied the rear most one as the other two rushed further ahead.

John was quick to follow in step, "What? Why? What's going on?"

Before the engineer could respond, cries and calls for help could be heard coming from down one side of a cross section, opposite of where the engineers were headed. "No time to explain, go help them. Use radio frequency 101.2hz. Emergency messages are broadcasting there!" The engineer yelled before disappearing around the corner, leaving John to answer the call for aid.

---

It isn't fair. It just isn't fair at all! Screamed the young mind of teenage Trailway. The frustrated earth pony paced within his little forest alcove right at the edge of his grannies house. A variety of newspapers were strewn all around on the grass, most of which featured a distinct and special group of six mares, halfway across the world. Each front page detailed their prominent adventures that had occurred within the past couple years.

The latest one laid strewn at Trailway's favorite reading spot, featuring a cover image of heroes both old and new facing against the terrible, the dreadful, the mythical, Pony of Shadows!

("The Girls did it again!") The article began. ("What had started as an accidental find of an ancient book, turned into an unraveling of a millenia old mystery, the disappearance of the Pillars of Equestria!")

("We handled it just like every other time." Rainbow Dash had commented to our reporter upon landing in Canterlot. "With the power of friendship and my big can of whoop-flank! You'd think bad guys would think twice before messing with us. But, with the ways things have been for the past few years, it just seems like adventure is always around the corner.")

Trailway believed otherwise, the repeated hoofmarks that been smashed all over the crumbled and torn paper paid homage to that.

"It's them, again! Always them! Always in Equestria, always never anywhere else, always never here!" Trailway added with another few stomps onto the page. "What makes them so special? Why do they always get to have all the fun?"

Maretonia, the most prominent pony nation outside of the continent that hosts Equestria. One could say many things about Maretonia. It hosted some of the most beautiful summer beaches that thousands of individuals visit every year. Its farmland are of the most excellent quality. Its forests vibrant and always lush. Its lakes and streams diverse and thriving. It was calm. It was peaceful. It was safe... but boy oh boy, was it ever dull.

OK, maybe it wasn't entirely true that Maretonia is safe, but c'mon, aside from maybe one dormant cragadile or a few nests of flash bees and the occasional snoring dragon, nothing else ever came around to stir some excitement. There is that floating rumor about a roving army that had been conquering some nations in the south, run by some yeti thing, Storm Leader or something like that, but that was just it, a rumor.

No, all the real fun and action and adventures happened all the way in some dingy stinky backwater town called Ponyville. From giant star bears to bug bears to evil alicorns to evil alicorn thingies in dreams to giant magic eating centaurs!? Adventure around every corner my flank! What a bunch of Horse doodoo.

Trailway added one last stomp for good measure before reclining himself onto a nearby bench. He was just tired, tired of how unfair life had been for him so far. He was 14, about to turn 15 in the next couple of weeks... and he still didn't have his cutie-mark! What kind of colt can call themselves a stallion without having a cutie-mark!?

It's not that he was talentless in life, in fact he had quite the plethora of skills. He could draw the most immaculate... stick figures. He knew how to boil an... egg? ...He's mastered the art of the triangle! And those are just for starters, he could also...no, ...aha, watch and learn as he demonstrates a...no, ...ooh-ooh, check out what he can do with his...nope not that either. Ah, face the facts Trailway! The only thing I can do is accurately tell the 'right path from the wrong one.' Whatever that means.

'It's a gift.' His grandmother had told him. The ability to decipher the right path for a pony to walk on and to lead others astray from the wrong one, whether it be within life, or more commonly, in asking for directions. Wow, whoop-dee-feathering-do. Trailway, your friendly neighborhood living compass, what an aspiring life to live. As if.

No, he aspired for adventure! Excitement! Action! To be the shining knight! To save the damsel in distress! To be Maretonia's bright shining star!

But, it would appear Maretonia already had a bright shining star, several in fact, which was quite strange given how it was just past mid-day. And they are shooting stars too, how about that. And now there is just two of them, and they sure are fast, very fast... and getting brighter... and getting closer... and was is it getting hot out here, or was it just him?

Maybe, just maybe it had something to do with two fireballs that came streaking across Maretonia's airspace, directly towards Trailway's house. Speaking of Trailway, he remained where he sat, mouth agape, eyes strained, and breath hitched as the gigantic metal fireball changed directions mid flight, baring south-southeast with a margin of error between the 135-120° mark. ...Huh, guess his gift was good for something. That was great and all, but it didn't change the fact that the smaller fireball was still precisioned for his home.

Or at least he had believed so, but he couldn't be more grateful to be mistaken as the thing hurtled past him and into the damp swamp lands behind the house. A minute later, the boom rang out.

Trailway didn't know how accurate the truth was behind the whole, lightning and counting the seconds until the thunder and that's how many miles away it was, thing, so he disregarded that information as he set off. After all, who needs to know the distance when you can tell the direction. Oh, you bet your blubbery flank that Trailway wasn't going to sit this one out. Not over his cold body.

Comments

[NavratofWenter]

Nice story so far

[dannny43]

11630980
Almost a year since I updated, but it ain't dead.