For the Star Swan

by Odd_Sarge

Who Trails Stardust

Celestia’s desk thrummed for the second time that day.

She looked up from her latest reports on recent activity in the ‘northernmost’ quadrants: the youngest colonies were doing well, and spirits seemed high after the recent resupply mission by her sister’s grand fleet.

In recent times, that fleet had turned armada, and while Celestia could not say she was happy about it, she was proud of her sister. She was out there traveling to the stars that were rightfully hers to see... and Celestia was safe and sound in the midst of Equestrian bureaucracy.

And so it worried her that Princess Luna—part-ruler, part-admiral, and all sister—would drop her duties in running the grand armada long enough to send an interstellar call to the heart of the Equestrian Core Worlds.

Celestia pressed her hoof to the paging button. The fidelity of the speakers was a crackly mess, hot with static. Then, as the system refocused, Luna’s voice rang through bright and clear.

“Happy birthday, dear sister.”

Celestia sighed softly. “Thank you, Luna. You never seem to forget, do you? You even get the timezone correct.”

“You do the same for me. In reciprocation, I intend on not failing you.”

The solar diarch laughed, then gave a little shake of her head. “How are your efforts in the Griffonian Conflict faring?”

“That’s not for your concern,” Luna dryly replied. “Have you yet to step outside and trot the castle halls?”

“Why? Should I have?”

“You don’t ever leave, sister.”

“But I do, Luna.”

“Not as much as you used to.”

What little joy Celestia had briefly enjoyed dissolved into her frown. It appeared that this was going to play out like every other birthday call...

“And you should have. I am aware of a package en route from a certain Haltermouth colony. You will need to leave your room to receive it.”

Celestia’s ears perked up, and she leaned forward on her cushion. “From the northern colonies?” Her alicorn biology kept her heart beating at the same perfect tempo, but her mind skipped to make up for its lack of imperfection.

“The Haltermouth Nebula,” Luna corrected. “I would highly recommend you seek it out. No ordering suspicious packages to your room, even after total analysis. Not until you’ve seen it first-hoof.”

“But Luna—”

“Good day, sister.”

The speakers crackled.

The connection terminated.

Celestia’s folded wings drooped.

Until she remembered those brief words.

“A package... From a colony.”

---

The third thrum of her desk barely—

Click.

“Good morning, captain.”

“Hoh—” She could feel the jump through the speakers. “Ah... Sorry, about that. Princess Celestia... how... prompt?”

“You have a package for me.”

“I-I uh, I do have a package, princess. But it’s... It’s currently being run through analysis, and you must’ve already seen the system message I... haven’t sent?”

“I’ll be right there. Analysis... that’s in the old garrison, isn’t it?”

“You’ll—yes and—wait, what?”

Silence.

“Princess? Are you there?”

The vault door to the Oracle squealed as it swung open.

“U-uh... happy birthday, Your Highness...”

---

The Princess was galloping.

In the empty halls of Canterlot Castle, the skeleton crew of a servant population—comprised of no more than a dozen ponies—stood together in clustered shock as she strode by.

Celestia paid them no mind. For once in her long-lived life, she had places to be.

Scuttling down a stairwell, she found herself diving into once-known territory. The castle had hardly changed since her sister’s return from the Moon all those years ago... and for Celestia, this may well have been her own return.

Guards in blue and gold armor—a contrast from the modern polyethylene-strapped Concord enforcer—jumped as a result of their entirely-ceremonial training. Nopony expected a princess of Equestria to come barreling down the stairs in a mad dash for a restricted zone.

Thankfully, one very important guard was quick enough to react to the princess’ rush: the one attending the security kiosk.

With a startled yelp, they unlocked the turnstile and hunkered down.

Celestia went right through, sending the entrance-way tumbling as she descended into the deeper parts of the castle.

---

Standing beside her Captain of the Royal Guard, Celestia stared out into the analysis bay.

The glass window was incredibly clear, but Celestia knew that it was hardly representative of its true strength: this glass was strong. Even if she put her full might into breaking it, it would be a useless effort.

Unless she exerted magical means. A typical magic user would still struggle to break the magic interwoven into the high-density composites that made up the window and frame of the observation wall, but Celestia knew how to unbind these things on an atomic level.

Twilight had shown her how to do that.

Celestia had shown the sun how to do that.

And the sun had shown them how to harness atomic forces for their own needs.

Friendship, too, was a wonderfully complex series of reactions.

“Princess, you may want to stay away from the glass. They’re wearing those suits for a reason.”

She pursed her lips for a brief moment, then relaxed and turned to relay her age to the captain.

“...Captain.” Inwardly, she winced. She hardly remembered the names of her own castle garrison these days. “I can assure you, I have endured far worse from the sun above us today.”

He blinked. “Radiation?”

Celestia tempered him with a quiet giggle. The stallion deflated.

The city of Canterlot and the subsequent Canterlot Castle had seen their share of the rise of new policing elements in the modern era. Concord was one of the last developments implemented into the founding tenets of the space-capable Equestrian bureacracy, and as such, it had a great deal of redundant systems. A robust degree of replacements could be found for the heads of the peacekeeping organization: a civilized polity could have anything from a simple head of security for a small outpost, to commanders overseeing the operations of sprawling cities, to hegemons that ensured peace was kept in stellar quadrants.

But Canterlot had returned to its Captain of the Royal Guard. And for as just-wet this captain’s ears appeared, he performed his duties to an admirable and desirable degree.

She was still going to dote on him like the youngling he was, however.

“What have they discovered so far, dear?”

“Aside from the miniature Sparkle Drive they crammed into that thing to act as a reactor? Carbon, princess.”

Reactor? “Carbon?”

“Within the contents of the container. External scans make it seem like... paper. Carbon. With lots of magic sticking around. Non-Equestrian to boot.”

Celestia paused. “Is that so?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” He idly rolled his neck while he continued. “It’s an entirely different signature. Which matches with the manifest marking it as a delivery from the Farrieway Habitat, which in itself is—”

“A colony in the Haltermouth Nebula.”

They both went quiet.

“You’re correct,” the captain eventually relented.

Celestia’s withers moved in an invisible motion. “I apologize for my nature at present, captain.” She breathed. “I believe... I would like to see it for myself.”

Truth be told, she hadn’t been this excited in a long time.

---

Celestia frowned at it, then looked to the nearby analysis team with concern. “Are your counters in the shop, my little ponies?”

Only one of the chemsuit-wearing ponies managed to speak up. “U-um, no, Your Highness?”

“It’s quite clear that there’s no risk of radiation from the device. And it’s nowhere near toxic levels of magic.”

The object of their inspection glowed a radioactive-looking blue, but that was as menacing as it got.

The package was placed atop a pedestal at the center of the analysis chamber. It was no more than a few hooves wide, and shaped with two cylinders atop one another. They almost seemed welded together, but it wasn’t so obvious: by the appearance of the gray material, it appeared quite flexible. Celestia wagered that if she spread it apart, it would certainly unfurl like that of a spool of ribbon. But it was just metal. Metal pressed far-too thin. It was fragile, over-engineered, and all-too exciting for Celestia’s eyes.

“The captain said you detected carbon?”

The unicorn among the team nodded. “It’s likely to be paper, but there’s a good deal of components inside... which is why we were hesitant to let you in, Your Highness.”

“Do you know what these components are?”

The unicorn nodded again. “Yes, actually. There are several indications that there is more than just carbon inside. You may have noticed the complete schematic sketched out in the observation room, but there’s a few obvious bits, like some components capable of causing vibrations, but it also looks like there’s a device set to a trigger. Not that there’s any potentially dangerous elements in this to warrant any kind of worry, but still, there’s enough to be pretty suspicious about...”

The other ponies mumbled, forcing the unicorn to speak a little louder. “Despite the lack of a spell matrix, there’s too much magic. Enough to bind the thaumatons together, but not enough to do anything active. A harmonic loop, and a device of untold abilities.”

For a moment, the princess and her ponies watched the gray scroll rhythmically pulse. The captain’s use of the ‘Sparkle Drive’ had been more of an exaggeration than anything: the source of the blue lightshow was hardly the same kind of device that could take ponies across the stars. Aside from being a self-contained power unit, its only similarity was that of its use of magic as an energy source.

But her little pony was right: there were no spells, here. A passive stream of magic flowed through the gray ‘scroll’, fed into the power supply, and came back out. It was magic in a constant state, a notoriously difficult display of harmonic forces at play.

“What would you like us to do with it, Your Highness?”

Celestia looked to the side of the analysis chamber, her eyes landing on the observation wall. There, she met the gaze of her captain.

They shared a nod.

When she returned to the team, she could see the troubled looks painted across their muzzles.

As expected.

“Take your time with it. Once you’re satisfied with the results, please have the captain arrange for it to be sent to my chamber. I’d like to see it before the day’s end.”

The unicorn’s ears were hidden below their suit, but their pleasure was evident. “T-thank you, princess.” With their own glance around their companions, the group’s vigor was restored. “We’ll certainly do our best.”

“Of course, dear.” She smiled warmly. “Thank you for your time, my little ponies.”

Comments

[Bicyclette]

In recent times, that fleet had turned armada, and while Celestia could not say she was happy about it, she was proud of her sister. She was out there traveling to the stars that were rightfully hers to see... and Celestia was safe and sound in the midst of Equestrian bureaucracy.

definitely very fitting for them both!

Celestia’s ears perked up, and she leaned forward on her cushion. “From the northern colonies?” Her alicorn biology kept her heart beating at the same perfect tempo, but her mind skipped to make up for its lack of imperfection.

love this bit! of course alicorn biology would be different from mortal pony biologies

Scuttling down a stairwell, she found herself diving into once-known territory. The castle had hardly changed since her sister’s return from the Moon all those years ago... and for Celestia, this may well have been her own return.

ooh, really underscoring Luna’s concerns!

Twilight had shown her how to do that.

Celestia had shown the sun how to do that.

And the sun had shown them how to harness atomic forces for their own needs.

Friendship, too, was a wonderfully complex series of reactions.

love how friendship is magic and magic is physics and physics is friendship

Celestia frowned at it, then looked to the nearby analysis team with concern. “Are your counters in the shop, my little ponies?”

love it every time

But her little pony was right: there were no spells, here. A passive stream of magic flowed through the gray ‘scroll’, fed into the power supply, and came back out. It was magic in a constant state, a notoriously difficult display of harmonic forces at play.

it is great that the mystery of what this object is is a draw to both the reader and the protagonist

“Of course, dear.” She smiled warmly. “Thank you for your time, my little ponies.”

love it every time!