Twilight has developed an insatiable hunger for new information, and not just that which can be found in her library. Thus, she is overjoyed when her hunger is sated by a computer glitch.
Princess Twilight Sparkle, in a new, peaceful era for Equestria, has gotten bored of just reading. No- she wants to discover for herself. Only, Equestria has run out of discoverable facts.
Then Princess Luna reveals an astounding fact to the younger princess. A few observations and a little engineering later, and she's ready to blast off for the stars.
Only, before she even breaks out her contraption, a computer glitch leaves something else to investigate- something far closer than the stars, yet something that might reveal the secret of the stars to her.
“Sir, you misunderstand. This is an experimental system.”
“Yet you stick it on the biggest ship we’ve ever built?”
Sigh. “She was going to be a lot smaller, but someone had to mandate she be a warship. I had to make her that big because that’s the only way for her to still pack in the necessary support systems!”
Grunt. “How’d you get past the size-to-firepower limits, then?”
“She’s also equipped with more than one untested weapons system.”
“Oh? When are you planning to test them?”
“On her maiden voyage.”
“With noone anywhere nearby?”
Shrug. “We don’t know if they will blow up the ship either- but I do know these weapons are far too powerful for testing anywhere near our home system.”
“Who’s going to watch the testing, then?”
“The computer will watch initial testing in deep space. Once it gets back with a report on the effective zones of the weapons, we can set up a more focused testing range also in deep space for more directed testing. Right now, the priority is to make sure these experiments won’t kill everyone.”
Grunt. “I cannot authorize the launch. The rules specifically state that new vessels must be monitored by an outside source from launch to commissioning. If you cannot guarantee our safety in doing that, don’t launch it.”
Sigh. “Fine, then. I’ll see what I can do.” He turns to head back to his car; the Space Lord had refused his request. He’d even refused to acknowledge that its experimental engines are so massive precisely because they’re designed to take the ship where no current ship can go!
The doors land closed behind him. Heck, just about everything on that ship is experimental- all the way down to the environmental systems, being designed to handle just about any possible atmosphere and maintain completely different atmospheric compositions in different rooms of the ship!
He navigates his way out of the government building. He’ll have to cancel the launch reservation he’d made- and abort his ship’s maiden voyage. The first of the just-as-new power plants running the thing will be kicking off the full test cycle- through ignition- in as little as three hours’ time.
He has until the gravity drive test begins tomorrow morning to cancel the whole shebang. Honestly, he would have preferred to get the thing into deep space before lighting off the gravity drive. Unfortunately, simple thrusters- even combined with the fancy magneto-drive most ships use in close proximity to planets these days- simply aren’t strong enough to have a snowflake’s chance in an active volcano of even floating the thing off the docking clamps.
The good news is, cancellation should be as simple as a single command. He can even send it from his phone, once he gets back to his car. Then he’ll be stuck at his computer, rewriting the maiden voyage program, for months before he applies for another launch reservation and seeks permission to launch again.
So, another good year and a half or so that his ginormous ship will remain in the construction hangar… Another year and a half of expensive rent before he can dismantle the hangar and return the land. He’d been hoping to do that now- and hide out in a hotel or something for a week until it gets back from that maiden voyage… An event that was scheduled for this coming Friday.
He freezes momentarily, glancing to the side, at the noise of a car engine. Most cars these days still have wheels; the maglev coils work great on the roads, but most people don’t have mag lines installed in their driveways, or other locations they want to park their car. Not to mention, if one has to swerve off the road for some reason, wheels are the only way to get back on the road.
This car just shot off the road at a few hundred miles an hour, twisting in midair before striking the ground sideways. Now a whirling drum of steel, it’s bouncing straight towards him. He dives for cover.
He doesn’t make it.
Three hours later, the first of many fusion plants ignites successfully, stabilizes, and starts providing power to ignite the rest, while the automated program disconnects external power.
The following morning, a Monday, the gravity drive lights off successfully- and the docking clamps that hadn’t been caught in the drive zone retract peaceably from the now floating ship. The few that had been in the drive zone had been torn violently away from the armored vessel.
One hour after that, the still-standing launch reservation arrives- and the computer, acknowledging the clock, increases power to the gravity drive, rising the ship out of the damaged hangar, guiding it smoothly up the scheduled flight path. The crash test dummies strapped to seats or walls throughout the ship don’t even realize it’s moving- a feat most ship designers would kill for.
The ship finally reaches orbit unhindered- and touches on the end of the scheduled flight path, at the edge of controlled space. The gravity drive goes instantly to full power, pulling off accelerations that many fast courier vessels might envy. It reverses acceleration at some point, drawing itself to a halt close to a light-minute away from the Earth before rotating ninety degrees and launching into the various engine tests. Only one craft is close enough to witness the departure- and the crew of the mining vessel stare slack-jawed as its enormous engines power on... then the entire ship disappears in a blaze of light.
Ten minutes finds the ship positioned approximately six lightyears from Earth- a distance even the fastest ships take several hours to traverse. With the warp engine test complete, the program moves immediately onto the next test- the engines designed to take it where no other ship can follow. This takes a few hours to charge- and finally, with a blast and a shockwave, the enormous ship disappears from the face of the universe.
Transwarp Drive test complete. Proceeding to next test… ERROR: Invalid Instruction at 0A8C72F3: Null Dereference! System Idle: Assist Mode.
Twilight Sparkle was gazing at the stars with her telescope. Just last week, Princess Luna had revealed to her that she doesn’t actually control the stars. Sure, there’s a few objects that look like stars, including the four that had aided in her escape as Nightmare Moon, but the stars themselves are beyond even her reach. She’d even mentioned that the stars are still there, even in daylight- it’s just that Celestia’s sun hides them from view.
So she’s gazing at the stars. Studying just for studying’s sake is boring- and unfortunately, she’s run out of disasters or predicaments to study up on. She’s even run out of possible predicaments to study up on.
But the stars are different. Nopony- not even Princess Luna- knows the first thing about them. Even from the moon, they looked the same. Princess Luna had, reportedly, gone as far as she possibly could- and they still looked the same.
And over time, they shift. So, clearly, it’s not just a giant painting surrounding Equestria. There’s something out there.
She intends to find out what.
In the basement of her Crystal Castle, she has prepared a contraption to help her climb up high, well above the highest any pegasus or hot-air balloon can fly. She’s tested it in as many ways as possible- and, she thinks, tonight might be a good night to test it out. She tilts her head slightly, twisting the telescope a touch to the side. She doesn’t think the stars had ever twisted before.
She watches as a tightly focused point in the sky seems to twist into a spiral, taking the stars with it- and finally, releases back to normal.
But there’s something there now. She runs her telescope up to maximum magnification, staring at this object, glinting gently in Celestia’s setting sun. It looks to be made of metal, from here. She watches as it approaches, growing larger in her view. She zooms out as it comes- and scowls as it begins to move sideways, sliding across the sky. She follows it with her telescope, zooms in as far as she can. She thinks she catches the glint of something other than metal on its side- but the writing is visible. She hasn’t a clue what it means; it most certainly isn’t Equestrian.
As she watches, the thing slides past her, on its way towards the sun. As a matter of fact, she realizes, it should be visible to the naked eye by now, as a star! A quick glance confirms this- as the brightest star. She returns to her telescope- and finally gets a view of the back of it.
Her jaw drops wide. That looks like the very structures she’d designed to get her contraption up so high! A bit bigger, sure, and a little more complex, she thinks, but still the same thing.
She gallops for the basement. There’s only one thing that could mean.
Twilight performs final assembly on the street in front of her castle. She left a radio on the living room table, tuned to the same setting as the one in her contraption.
She smiles to herself, flying in the door and locking it behind her. Of course she hadn’t been idle these last few years; she had found a way to create a more controlled version of lightning- she calls it electricity- without magic. She’d then found a few ways it could be used- among them being this radio. It’s quite a clunky device, but it works for long-range communication- so long as a line-of-sight is maintained. If something happens, she need only close the circuit and yell to reach Spike, still asleep on the couch.
She takes her seat. It’s only after she’s already started the ignition process that she realizes she should have involved Doctor Hooves- his experience had made her radio possible. He probably would have thought of something she hadn’t, with the design of her contraption.
Ignition finally occurs. With a roar like a dragon, her contraption soars for the heavens- with her inside, pressed firmly into her seat. Drat, with this much force, she won’t be able to escape if something goes wrong! Her horn lights up, making certain it stays upright. She gazes upwards, through the glass spear serving as its top, and points it at the moving star- at the object she’d spotted.
It doesn’t seem to get closer.
“What is she doing?”
Several ponies stare up the rising column of smoke- from a safe distance, that is. Any within a couple streets’ distance were choked out.
They watch as the self-proclaimed fastest flier in all of Equestria races the rising object… and, before she can catch up, loses. It simply won’t stop accelerating.
“Wait a second,” Applejack squints. “Is she trying to reach that there star?”
Rarity, the original speaker, also squints into the distance in front of the smoke. “Maybe,” she states- and pauses. Something seems off about that star. It’s quite a bright star. As she watches, though, her squint terminates as her eyes widen. “It’s moving!”
“Well duh,” Pinkie states. “It’s riding a column of smoke. Why wouldn’t it be-!”
Rarity stuffs a hoof in the pink pony’s mouth. “No, the star! It’s moving!”
Pinkie steps back from the hoof, twisting to look. “What? A shooting star! … slowly shooting star. I thought they were supposed to be fast!”
“So… How’s Twilight going to survive the landing?”
“Huh?” Applejack asks, turning to identify the speaker- Time Turner. “Oh, um, she can fly?”
He lets out a sigh. “Probably her reasoning too. Only problem is, pegusi can’t fly that high- and if she gets going fast enough, she’ll die before she can even try to fly. She didn’t think to bring a heat shield, did she?”
Fluttershy pitches in with a little squeak. “We could catch her…”
Turner shakes his head. “No, no you couldn’t. The same forces that would spell her doom would instantly kill any that tried to catch.”
Applejack looks up at the sky once again. “We could get Celestia?”
She’s still accelerating hard, being crushed into her seat. She’s listening to the hiss of escaping air over the noise of the engines. It’s a good thing she brought bottles- and scuba gear. She levitates that over- quite difficult, against the force applied by her contraption- and puts the mask on.
It doesn’t stay on. She has to hold it.
She’s pretty sure she hears her radio squawking at her- but she can’t hear what it’s saying. Is Spike trying to ask why she didn’t take him?
… In all honesty, she doesn’t know.
No matter how hard she holds it to her face, she’s having difficulty keeping the air inside her mask. Her bottled air won’t last very long like this. She scans the sky above her contraption once again. Her quarry is closer- and, had she thought to bring her telescope, she might actually have a good view of it by now. She’s close enough she can see it with the naked eye about as well as she ever could with a telescope. She keeps her contraption pointed.
The glass cracks. She presses her mask even harder onto her face, swapping the empty bottle out for a fresh one.
She watches as her target comes closer. Grows larger, more like- it’s still so far away.
As she watches, she switches out the second empty air tank for a fresh one. Her last fresh one.
Are those windows she sees? And doors?
If they’re anything close to pony-sized, this thing is enormous.
Her last bottle runs out of air. She allows the now useless scuba gear to fall away from her face- and almost instantly begins choking on the air in her contraption… right on time for it to run out of fuel. She stomps on the key for the radio. “Spike!” she chokes out. “Get the Princesses! I need help up here!”
Down in the castle, the radio squawks again- but Spike is still sound asleep. Even the noise of the contraption hadn’t been enough to wake him. Fortunately, that isn’t the only radio listening.
A strange voice comes back over the radio, far clearer than in any of her tests- and with a striking similarity to what she’d thought she’d heard before. “Unknown craft, confirm: Do you require assistance?”
She stares at it for a second, then stomps for the key again. It takes her two tries to reach it. “Yes!” she barks out. “I req- gasp- require- gasp- assis…”
She passes out.
The radio speaks up again, even though she doesn’t hear it. “Request confirmed; initiating pickup procedure. Brace for acceleration in Three. Two. One.”
On schedule, her contraption starts accelerating again- and this time, it’s not under its own power. Unfortunately, it was never designed to be pulled on, so several bolts, buckles, and other linkages tear free as it leaves its engines behind.
Engines that fall back towards Equestria, vanishing in a great big plume of fire right as Princess Celestia finds them.
She awakens very slowly, to the sound of escaping air. She hurts all over- especially in her horn… Which would make sense; her magic would instinctively protect her from this kind of situation. She lifts her head dazedly off of the metal floor, her breathing fast and deep. She should have thought of this before she came flying up here!
She stops mid-thought, staring out through her glass ceiling at the brightly lit space around her contraption. It’s all metal- and, as she turns in place, she spots several variances in the cavern. Most of one wall is imprinted slightly, with what looks like warning signs around it- and a few glass bumps at the top.
The other wall is a little different. It’s got some strange structures sticking out a little high up, and at the bottom is a raised walkway, stretching from side to side, with a door in the middle. She spots a few other doors as well, higher up- but none of them are flush with the ground. Interesting, even pegasi usually like to have something to stand on when operating the door. It’s only marginally easier than turning to close it while airborne- but when carrying a load, it’s many times easier to be able to put it down before operating the door.
Each of the four corners has a bright yellow light positioned at the top, where it meets the ceiling.
Completely forgetting about the air problem, she rushes down to the door into her contraption- and crashes into it. She scowls irritably before forcing it open with her magic.
As soon as the door is opened, she is struck in the face by an extremely strong wind- and she hears something shatter upstairs as the wind subsides. Reminded of her situation, she turns and rushes back upstairs- to find that half of her glass dome has been completely destroyed, scattered across half the metal floor outside, as if struck from inside. The wind could have done that, she supposes- and returns to her door.
She remembers she’d had to fly to reach her door only after she steps out- and falls on her face. The unexpected drop wasn’t bad, as only a foot or so- but it was certainly far shorter than it should have been. She rights herself and turns to examine her contraption.
It’s in worse shape than she thought. Only her cabin section remains; her massive propulsion structures all seem to have been ripped off somehow.
“Wha-! What happened?!” She cries.
Then she positively leaps into the air, scanning for the pony she hadn’t seen, as the response comes back instantly- in the same voice as had spoken over the radio, just a little clearer. “Your craft failed to withstand tractor forces exerted during rescue. Castoff sections were lost; available tractor capacity was insufficient for recovery.”
She doesn’t find anypony. Some strange radio, perhaps? She lets out a groan, and looks back at her ship. “How am I gonna get back home, then…?”
She searches again for the answerer, again fruitless. “This vessel is equipped with many small craft.”
She finally turns back to the remains of her contraption, lighting her horn to tip it up. Just like she feared, she doesn’t find what she was looking for. The power source for her radio had gone with the propulsive parts. “Aaand I’m not gonna be able… Wait.” She looks up at the otherwise empty room once again. “Can you help me contact my friends?” She asks. “They’ll be listening on the same radio… setting I used.”
“Standing by for 6.39 kilohertz unencrypted radio transmission.”
She tilts her head. “Unencrypted? Uhh… Okay. How do I…?”
“Transmission content can be recorded from any point within this vessel.”
“Twilight?” She calls, trotting down the hall. It’s not very often the purple mare will completely forget she’d agreed to do something- go on a walk, this one. It had taken some creative wording to get her to do it- but it’s for her own benefit. Had she realized, perhaps…? She calls again.
Then she pauses. She backtracks slightly, taking a side hallway- she hears Twilight’s voice coming from it. A little distorted, sure, but that’s to be expected through a solid crystal door.
“Spike?” She hears Twilight call.
She raises her eyebrow. She won’t be finding Spike here- he’d gone running out the door some time ago. Looked mighty important, too, but she wouldn’t know without asking. Knowing the drake, he could well be running a few seconds behind schedule- that is, if the event in question relates to Rarity. She trots up to and through the wide-open doors the voice was wafting from. “Twilight?”
“Spike? Are you there?” Twilight’s voice echoes slightly about the room, still distorted.
She tilts her head, spotting the device resting on the coffee table. It’s huge- consisting of a magic-based electrical generator and that thing she’d called a “radio”. Not that the radio is very small either- it has to weigh close to as much as she does herself. She raises an eyebrow. “Twilight? Are you using your radio to call Spike upstairs?”
“Spike, please!”
She nods to herself. Definitely coming from the radio. She trots up to it, taking a glance before she touches the key. She uses a spell to alter her voice into a genderless monotone. “We’re sorry,” she states, smirking like a maniac. “Spike is not here right now. Please leave a message after the tone.” She then scratches her hoof across the microphone grille, and releases the transmit key- before collapsing her spell and breaking out into a fit of giggles. She could just imagine Twilight’s reaction to that.
The device holds its silence for a while. Finally, a different voice comes over. It’s an unfamiliar voice, clearly female and carrying no accent whatsoever, yet also exuding a certain calm confidence through the distortion. “We’re sorry, but Her Highness Princess Twilight Sparkle is away from the phone right now. Please leave a message after the beep with your name and number and she will get back to you at her convenience.” A sharp, high-pitched beep sounds from the device, lasting about a half-second- and successfully launching her several feet into the air.
She stares wide-eyed at it for a few seconds, calming her breathing, before re-approaching. Twilight must have uncovered some new secret pranking spell.
… Though, whatever a “phone” is supposed to be, she hasn’t a clue.
She stalks up to the device and depresses the key again. “Okay, you win,” she states. “Though in all seriousness, Spike isn’t here. What’s up?”
The response is almost instant- and clearly Twilight’s voice, as well. “The- Lyra? Shoot! Did I miss something? What time is it?”
Lyra blinks. “Wait. You don’t have a clock?”
“Uh… what was I supposed to be doing at eight thirty-seven in the morning again…? Oh, right! Sorry, I forgot about that walk! Um… I’ll be… uh…”
She raises an eyebrow. “Oh? You’re not on the top of a mountain, are you?”
“No, no, I’m… uh…”
“That rocket was involved somehow, wasn’t it?”
“Rocket? What’s a rocket?”
She facehooves. “The one that used its exhaust to dig a small hole in the road in front of your castle?” Then she facehooves again, repeating her oration while holding the radio button.
“That was a rocket?”
Nod. Facehoof. Button. “Yes. It comes from knowing Doctor Hooves.”
“Oh.” She can almost hear the facehoof. “Um… It might. I don’t know where I am.”
She puts a hoof to her chin, thinking, for a few seconds. Maybe-
“Okay, I guess that answers that question… Um…”
She tilts her head. Perhaps that strange mare had answered an untransmitted question? She waits in silence. Eventually, Twilight’s voice comes back on, sounding worried.
“Um- could you find my friends, please? And Spike too? Make sure they know I’m okay? They might think I died in the explosion…”
“Explosion!?!” she practically screams. Fortunately, her hoof had slammed down on the radio button, so she doesn’t need to repeat the oration. The plastic might need some repair, though.
“Uh… apparently. I never saw it happen, but I guess my rocket exploded on the way back down.”
She lets out a groan, then presses the button again. “Really? You’re lucky you didn’t die that high up.”
“Yes. I’m lucky this…” Pause. “Er, ‘Athena’ was here to pull me out of it before it fell. Ooh- this might be my ticket back home!”
She tilts her head, then pushes the button again. “Uhh, Okay then. I’ll just go prevent a funeral, you work on getting back down safely from such height the absence of the air will kill anything, and I’ll see you at the Ponyville Park in fifteen minutes?”
“Uh… Deal.”
She nods, and depresses the button one last time. “Deal.”
She turns away from the radio, trotting out to the main hallway. “I wonder how she’ll do it safely in fifteen minutes… Huh, whatever. PIIINKIE PIIIE!”
A momentary whirl of pink resolves itself in front of her. “Twilight can’t be dead!” Pinkie declares.
She shakes her head. “Of course not, I just talked to her. She’ll be at the park.”
Twenty minutes later, everypony is waiting in the park. Even Princesses Celestia and Luna are here- but Twilight is still nowhere to be seen.
Celestia looks at Pinkie. “You sure she’s coming?” she asks.
Pinkie looks inquisitively at Lyra.
Lyra shrugs. “She agreed to be here if I prevented the funeral,” she states.
Twilight slams her head down on the panel in front of her again, letting out a deep groan. Just like the first time, even though it’s sensitive to her hooves, it completely ignores her forehead- and horn. “Ugh! How much more of this is there?”
“Current position, page eight of ninety-three.” She’s been having it translate the manual for her- or, more accurately, read the unfamiliar language the thing is written in… and tell her, in Equestrian, what it says.
“I’m not going to make those fifteen minutes… Come to think of it, how long do I have left?”
“Negative five minutes.”
She slams her head down again. “Ugh! Can you drive?”
“Affirmative.”
She lifts her head up, staring out the front window of the small, winged machine she’d discovered in another of the big rooms. It’s lined up with several others, so she finds herself staring across the aisle at a row of identical machines.
“And it can get me down?”
“Affirmative.”
“On time?”
“Negative.”
“Drat! Now, why didn’t I think of this earlier?”
Silence.
She sighs. “Please do?”
“Confirm directive,” it states. “Autopilot Dropship Seven Three to landing in Ponyville Park.”
She nods. “Uh, yes, please.”
A door closes behind her- closing her inside the winged machine, she realizes. “Orders confirmed. Depressurizing Bay Seven. Estimated time to landing, thirteen point four minutes. Enjoy your flight.” The green lights in the upper corners of the room turn yellow- and start blinking. That reminds her, the yellow ones in that first room had turned green at some point.
“Well, I suppose we could set up a funeral…”
“No!” Pinkie interrupts Princess Celestia. “She’s not dead yet! I can feel it!”
Celestia raises an eyebrow. “Where is she, then?”
“I donno,” Pinkie states. “But what is that noise?”
Ponies look around- right on time to spot the source of the noise.
It looks like Twilight’s rocket had. In the same sense that a foal’s stick figure- drawn with black pencil- looks like Princess Celestia.
The source of the noise is readily apparent- as four giant cylinders hanging off the sides, one at each corner. Each of them is bearing a red glow around the bottom- aside from the visible heat waves and, to those with wings, visible wind currents.
Not that those without wings are at much of a disadvantage in this case- this close to the ground, it’s kicking up a bit of a dust cloud- and the grass is actively flattening away from it.
The rest of the contraption looks like a great big box of some kind. Some glass at the front is visible, but it’s darkened somehow, rendering the inside completely invisible.
Four doors on the bottom of it suddenly open as it approaches the clear ground only a short distance away from them. Celestia, Luna, and all five of Twilight’s friends gallop forwards to take front row seats in the display as legs extend out from each of the doors… then it settles down on them. The wind and noise from the cylinders very quickly vanishes to a low hum- then, as that starts to lose pitch as well as volume, they slowly rotate ninety degrees, pointing the fading glowy parts away from everypony.
Finally, the huge door across the front of it opens.
Twilight bolts out of the yawning opening even before it’s all the way open, winging her way to the ground in front of everypony. “I’m here!” she cries. “Sorry I’m late!”
More than one pony stares at her.
“What did you find up there?” Lyra asks.
Twilight shrugs. “Not entirely sure,” she states- before turning to look at Luna. “It did call itself a starship…”
“Oh?”
Three days later, the Royal Guards standing around her machine wave seven mares past, letting them in the wide-open door. It had taken absolutely forever for Twilight to open up enough time on her schedule for this. Nopony else had quite as much trouble; a volunteer would take care of Fluttershy’s animals while she was gone. Applejack had been largely free already; it’s not a very busy season for her family. Pinkie had only had to mention it to get permission from the Cakes; Rainbow had simply scheduled so-called ‘wimpy weather’ and left it to the other weather ponies. Rarity had actually had to rearrange a little of her schedule, but if what Twilight told her was correct, a fashion disaster is waiting for her. Plain metal rooms indeed! … Not that this thing is much better, she finds. Oh well- at least it has that colored stripe on the walls.
Aside from Twilight, Princess Luna had the hardest time opening time. She’d had to arrange for a nap last night, so she could be fully rested today, during what is normally her rest period.
Twilight takes the seat up front, looking out the windows at the ground for a moment before looking back to the rest. All the others had unanimously agreed she should be at the controls, since she has prior experience. With no seats to climb into, the rest are standing behind her.
Rainbow peers out the nearly-invisible window at a Guard standing by. “Wait. Aren’t these things impossibly dark?”
Twilight shrugs. “Not sure. But, uh… We’re going up so high we won’t have gravity. Make sure you hold onto something!” She glances sideways to three of her companions. “Or be ready to use your wings.” She smirks.
Rainbow mirrors her smirk. “I’m sure we can play anchor for other ponies as well.”
Twilight nods. “Everypony ready?” She asks.
A round of nods.
She looks back forwards. “Okay then, take us up!”
Applejack tilts her head. “Weren’t you going to drive?”
Twilight shakes her head. “No…” she cringes. “I couldn’t figure out how.”
A voice sounds from the suddenly glowing panel in front of her. “Welcome back, Captain,” it states- as the cylinders just visible from the window begin to tilt upwards, building noise. The big door closes at the same time. “Autopilot engaged. Estimated time to docking, twelve point seven minutes. Enjoy your flight.”
Twilight hops out of the seat to run back to the pile of ponies that just landed on the floor behind her. “Everypony okay?” She asks.
Applejack hops off the top of the pile. “I thought you said we wouldn’t fall,” she states.
Twilight shakes her head. “We aren’t falling- back to Equestria, that is. I’m not sure how it does it, but apparently, this bigger one can hold a gravity spell for a very long time.”
“Gravity generator operating at zero point three one percent capacity, generating one point zero zero gee shipboard.” the control panel’s voice helpfully supplies.
“Uh, and a very strong one at that, I guess.”
Rainbow slides out from the bottom of the dissolving heap. “Good thing it’s not strong right now,” she states- and glances out the front windows again. “We there yet?”
Twilight nods. “We’re here… It’s not opening, though.” She scowls at the door.
“Why?” Princess Luna asks.
The control panel answers. “Bay Seven is currently pressurized to zero point eight one local atmospheres and climbing.”
Everypony blinks.
“Pressurized?” Rainbow asks. “Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Uh- no, actually,” Twilight smiles back at her friend. “You know how the air gets thinner as you fly higher? That’s because it has pressure- and the weight of the air above it is creating that pressure. Sure, too much pressure can be dangerous- that’s essentially what a bomb does, after all- but without air pressure, we’d die. We’re up so high there is no air to have pressure- so it has to provide its own.”
“Inaccurate,” the control panel chimes in immediately. “Starship Athena is in low orbit; minor atmospheric drag is detected, at approximately one point three zero four Newtons.” Almost as soon as it finishes talking, the door unlocks and starts opening- with no hiss of pressure like the one that had come when it landed in the park.
Twilight blinks. “What’s the atmospheric pressure up here?”
“External atmospheric pressure at current altitude is below measurable threshold.”
She tilts her head. “How fast are we moving?”
“Twenty-seven thousand six hundred kilometers per hour.”
Her eyes widen. “Thats…! How far is that in a single second?”
“Seven point six six six kilometers per second.”
She turns slowly towards the wide-eyed Princess Luna. “That’s… That’s Ponyville to Canterlot and back- twice- in ten seconds flat.”
Rainbow blinks. “Uh… I don’t think I’m that fast…”
Twilight turns to her immediately, with a chuckle. “Yea, not even close. The speed of sound- the speed at which the Sonic Rainboom occurs- is three hundred forty-three meters per second. This… What, twenty times that? Twenty two?” She looks at the control panel. “Right?”
“Current velocity is approximately mach twenty two point two five two.”
“I sure hope there’s something up here for decoration,” Rarity declares. “All this metal is driving me crazy.” She’d originally expected to be able to retrieve her supplies once she got an idea of what it might take- but she’s already seen enough drab hallways to eat up all of her supplies at least twice over.
Twilight nods, as the next door in line slides smoothly open, revealing yet another long, undecorated metal hallway. “Yeah, tell me about it.”
“Huh? Somepony say something?” Pinkie yawns loudly.
Rainbow nods. “Exactly. Why is it so boring in here?”
The response, the disembodied voice that had once inhabited that control panel, comes quickly. “This is one of the undeveloped sectors aboard this vessel.”
“What?” Twilight asks.
“So we’re walking through the starship equivalent of the Everfree Forest?” Applejack asks.
“Affirmative.”
Several hooves meet their owners’ faces.
“How big is it?” Twilight asks.
“This undeveloped sector covers thirty-seven decks with an average area per deck of one point three million square meters.”
Luna tilts her head. “How much of the ship is undeveloped?” she asks.
“Approximately zero point one three one percent of this vessels’ volume is undeveloped.”
Twilight mirrors everypony else’s sharp intake of breath. “How much space is undeveloped, in total?”
“Total undeveloped space, across all decks, is approximately nine point three seven one trillion square meters.”
She facehooves. “Can you guide us to the, uh…” She looks briefly at Luna. “To where all those giant windows I saw are?”
“Destination, Observation Deck. Confirm?”
Nod. “Confirm.”
“Destination confirmed. At next intersection, turn right.”
Everypony releases a collective breath- and the party canters forwards.
Thirteen minutes or so later, seven mares trot through one final door into a truly enormous room. At this point, Rarity has relaxed; the passages up here aren’t quite so drab. Pinkie has also returned to full wakefulness- and Luna’s mane is back to its normal star-filled wave.
Seven mares then emit a collective gasp, gazing into the room.
Windows cover every wall, dozens of meters high. Even the ceiling is made with a significant quantity of glass- and out each and every window, at almost every angle imaginable, is the night sky. Why that one star, almost directly above them, is so much brighter than the rest… nopony knows, nor cares. The few parts of the walls and ceiling that are not glass, forming a regular gridwork across, are elegantly decorated with gold, silver, and even the odd gemstone. The floor shows a regular gridwork pattern, displaying a rather simple elegance radiating out from the center of the room. A giant square in the center of the room, at least a hundred meters across, is occupied by an ornate table of sorts. The top of the table seems to be made out of glass, with a faint glow coming off of it.
The truly breathtaking feature of the room is floating above the table. At least as far across as the table, a gentle sphere, rotating slowly, silently. Sparkling blue covers much of it, but shapes of green, brown, and even red are visible, sparkling gently. Fluffy white covers some parts of it.
Seven mares walk slowly up to the edge of the table, staring up at it. Once they get closer, individual features make themselves known. Labels become visible, identifying continents… Nations… Even cities and landmarks.
Rainbow eventually becomes the first to speak up. “Equus sure is huge,” she mutters. “I hafta wonder, Twilight, how did you run out of stuff to discover?”
Twilight can only stare at the display for several seconds. “Good question,” she eventually mumbles- before brightening up. “But with this, we can discover so much more!”
Luna walks around the table a few times, ignoring Twilight’s fairly wordless fawning over it, before wandering to the windows to gaze out at the night sky. A night sky far clearer than any she had seen before. So many sparkling stars, glowing in the blackness. So simple, yet so… Elegant. If only she could make something like this shine upon Equestria at some point; unfortunately, even when she tries, she can never get it quite so clean-cut.
Probably, she considers, because there’s no air to be clear up here.
Then she looks over at that one blindingly bright star. She doesn’t remember any stars quite that bright. She looks back down at Twilight, studying the Equestrian continent on the floating image of their world. “Twilight,” she calls.
The other alicorn turns in midair, raising an eyebrow. “Yes Princess?”
She points a hoof. “Do you know why that star is so bright?”
Twilight twists in midair, gazing up at the bright star as well. “I don’t know,” she mutters- then glances down at the table she’s floating over. “Why is it so much brighter than the others?”
The answer floats back immediately. “Distance to local star, eight point three light-minutes. Distance to nearest neighboring star, two point five light-years.”
Blink. “What’s a light-minute…?”
“Light-minute. Noun; a measure of the distance light will travel in one minute’s time. Equal to seventeen trillion, nine hundred eighty seven billion, five hundred forty seven thousand, four hundred eighty meters.”
Twilight almost falls out of the air before looking at Luna. “Um…”
Luna raises an eyebrow. “Where is Celestia’s sun?”
It answers. “Eight point three one light-minutes, bearing one-seven-three-point-four by eight-three-point-three.”
Rainbow lands solidly on the floor. “Wait, did it just say what I think it said?” she asks.
“Did it just say Celestia’s sun is a star?” Twilight asks.
“Affirmative.”
Six ponies stand slack-jawed, staring up at Celestia’s sun, floating in the middle of the night sky. Of what looks like the night sky, at least. One pony falls out of the air whilst staring at the same.
Celestia’s sun is casting long, faint shadows across the floor of the well-lit room by the time the next pony moves.
It’s Fluttershy.
“... Are they okay…?” she mutters.
Rainbow shakes her head back into her senses. “Huh? Are who okay?”
“If… If Celestia’s sun is a star, and there are so many more… How many Equestrias are there? Are they okay?”
Rainbow looks up at the planet still floating over the giant table. “Uh…”
Twilight shakes herself out of her trance. “Wha- oh. Um… We just have to find out.” She looks up at the ball of water and land floating over the table. “How many are there?”
It answers instantly. “One.” At the same time, the floating planet spins around, facing a glowing Equestria towards them.
Twilight facehooves.
“Is…” Luna’s eyes widen. “If there is no Equestria to control each of those stars, there must be something else,” she states. “What is it?”
“Error: The target of your query is beyond current maximum sensor range.”
Twilight drops her jaw. “It doesn’t know,” she mutters. “Can we go there? Where’re the controls?” She looks left and right.
“Affirmative,” it answers immediately. “Confirm directive: Deploy secondary bridge controls on the Observation Deck.”
She blinks. “Uh, yes?”
“Orders confirmed. Deploying control stations.” The voice is marred slightly by a sudden high-pitched hum from beneath them- and the distinctive sound of moving metal.
Then Fluttershy lets out a yelp, leaping diagonally backwards through the air to land in a scrambling heap. Twilight’s first response is to search for the reason- but of course, she doesn’t need to look for long. She just doesn’t have quite as sudden- or violent- of a reaction to seeing sections of the previously unbroken floor suddenly drop downwards and slide away. She watches open-mouthed as, with a second strange humming noise, a number of desks and chairs rise up from the new holes in the floor. She counts them as they come.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven… She pauses, and counts again. Yes, there are definitely nine desks rising from the floor.
Seven ponies, including the wide-eyed Fluttershy, stare at the various desks and chairs. Some of the desks have more than one chair- but every single desk and chair seems to have come with its own new piece of floor, neatly sealing up the brand-new holes.
“What just happened?” Rainbow asks.
“But Princess-!”
Princess Luna stops Twilight’s response short with but a look. Celestia’s sun has disappeared and reappeared- even though, according to Twilight’s ship, they’ve only been aboard for about five hours. They’ve spent the last hour alternating between examining the new ‘control stations’ and gazing up at the amazing night above them. “This is your discovery, Twilight,” she declares. “If anypony does, you should be the one to sit there.”
Twilight’s ears go flat, but she doesn’t give up. “I won’t sit there!”
Scowl. “Then there is a trivial solution.”
Five minutes later, nopony is sitting in the big, elevated chair with the circular desk around it, facing the rest from behind. Additionally, nopony is sitting in the only slightly smaller chair just behind and to its right, with a similar circular desk.
Fortunately, even with everypony seated, those seats are not the only vacant ones. They are, however, the only empty desks. Or ‘control stations’, or whatever Pinkie had called them; nopony had heard her quite clearly, nor asked for clarification.
For example, Pinkie has an empty chair on either side of her. Fluttershy and Rarity each have an empty seat next to them, while Twilight, Rainbow, Applejack, and Luna have all selected single-seat stations. Twilight has taken the only station anypony can understand: The one that can only be the helm, if a little strangely designed.
“Everypony ready?” Twilight calls, placing her hoof on what she thinks is the throttle.
A round of nods ensues. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” Applejack declares.
“All-righty. Here goes nothing.” She pushes it forwards.
“All-righty. Here goes nothing.” She pushes it forwards.
A tone chimes. “Error,” the ship pitches in suddenly, and quietly, from her panel. “The parking brake is still engaged.”
Half an hour later, she pushes it forwards again. This time, finally, it works.
Nothing seems to happen. For a second.
Then, with a suddenness that throws everypony against their seats, the starscape in front of them vanishes, becoming a sea of white streaks racing past the windows.
Twilight leans forward. “Wow!” she yelps, watching the image above the table. It had zoomed out to show a field of little specks when she had, what had it called it, ‘disengaged the parking brake’? Now, all those specks are skirting past, zipping across the field, past a single speck, standing unmoving in the center- with a little, unreadable label on it. If she remembers correctly, it uses the same symbols- including the exact same sequence- as are printed on the side of this… starship.
Fluttershy gazes unblinkingly out the windows. Her lips slowly draw into a smile, her wings shifting outwards slightly. How many more friends are out there?
Nopony actually seems to notice that they hadn’t felt the acceleration at all- only a slight vibration in their panels and a painful wrenching feeling in their guts.
Pinkie loses her lunch all over the seat to her right.
The Starship Athena races through the stars, running her standard FTL drive- the ‘Distortion Drive’- up at maximum power. Thus, at roughly three times the apparent velocity any ship of her origin planet was capable of, she leaves Equestria far behind. Unbeknownst to her passengers, the streaked starscape they see is not actually stars; rather, it’s an artefact from how the Distortion Drive works. Every particle caught in the field, be it asteroid, debris, or simple space dust, is heated to truly impossible temperatures as the ship passes, emitting mass amounts of light- and creating a trail of fusion through space. This effect, jump-started by a short blast from the main engines, in turn propels the ship to a velocity proportional to the temperature of the passing particles.
Unfortunately, this drive system is usually never used at full power anywhere near a star; the particle densities can be dangerously high, for the components. Densities in and around Equestria’s local star system are even higher than in most.
The problem with high particle densities is that the ship’s hull comes into contact with any in its path. Ceramic shielding can only deflect so much before it fails- so standard procedure is to operate it just below the limiting point of where the ship can only barely disperse all the produced heat.
Starship Athena possesses no ceramic shielding. Her hull is made of alloy- and, fortunately for her passengers, a navigational shield. This shield absorbs much of the energy in these particles; it rather helps that her drive is tuned to generate these particles in a wedge shape, drawing them away from the ship.
But the navigational shields- which had been one of the switches Twilight had been forced to strike before the engines would work- can only absorb and disperse so much energy. The absolute limit is enormous- but these low-energy shields weren’t designed for any kind of significant energy transfer. The generators quickly spin right up to maximum and stay there, protected behind layer after layer of armor.
As the ship travels through the stars, casually overloading her navigational shields, her forward hull begins to heat up. Various cooling systems automatically kick on- and, eventually, the temperature of her forward hull stabilizes, once the temperature control grid begins dumping waste heat directly into her fusion plants to serve as fuel.
This, of course, presents another, entirely new problem. These fusion plants might be capable of converting starforge-level temperatures into electrical energy with amazing efficiency, but there’s one minor problem. Only four of them are running right now, the others having been shut down to conserve her limited fuel supply just hours after Twilight had first headed back to the surface.
Unfortunately, these four plants alone could not absorb the volume of thermal energy being dumped into them- even after the fusers go entirely offline.
Had somepony been sitting at the big, raised chair, they would have seen the red warning lights covering an entire sector of the control panel. Nopony is anywhere nearby- and nopony sees the lights or realizes anything is wrong for quite some time.
Some hours after they first headed out, one of the four operating fusion plants warps. The whirling containment projector catches on its track- and the overheated but properly functioning processor governing the device immediately orders an emergency shutdown.
It’s not fast enough. Long before the melted neutralizers can expend their long-wasted and difficult to manufacture cryogenic compounds into the failing fusion bottle, the containment projector catches again- causing the field to stutter, spilling a moment of plasma directly onto its neighboring, also overheated, reactor.
The second reactor’s processor melts during this exchange.
The ship’s primary processors, buried deep in the heart of the ship and operating at a comfortable temperature, calmly note this failure and, after failing to contact the backup processors on the same device, orders an emergency ejection of the failing plants.
Exploding bolts blow even as bulkheads seal shut, containing the onboard atmosphere before it can escape. Truly enormous explosive charges blow a significant segment of armor clear of the ship- and right out the top of the ship. Before it can even separate, though, the main computers seek the cause of the fault, extrapolate the situation, and drop the Distortion Drive into emergency shutdown.
Then, at the same moment as the exploding bolts intended to eject the plant successfully sever the connection, the containment bottle fails entirely.
Fortunately, the reactor rooms are designed to handle this kind of abuse. The fury of a star is vented successfully overboard, right about midships.
But as much as the master computers might consider the fusion problem solved with that, that wasn’t the only problem facing them. Emergency-stopping the Distortion Drive is its own feat of engineering; many a ship is destroyed by attempting such a feat.
The drive field doesn’t fade and disappear, as it’s supposed to; rather, it simply vanishes. The ship then slams navigational shields first into unmoving space dust and debris at approximately twenty-five thousand times the speed of light. It’s a testament to the shields and armor that they withstand the initial pounding- even before the combat shield comes on to blow everything out of the way. This done, with now cratered forward armor, the ship drops below the speed of light- but not too far below. Only to about one tenth the speed of light, where the combat shield switches back off again. Her navigational shield then runs nearly to maximum protecting the ship from impact. If anything significant gets in her path, like a micrometeorite, it’ll be up to her armor to absorb at least some of that impact.
Deep down in the Engineering decks, her twin triple-redundant inertial compensators are working overtime. Normally, starting the Distortion Drive is the most taxing event an inertial compensator might expect to handle- but, since many a starship gets away with a gentle start and no compensator, they generally don’t take much load. Twilight’s jump to full power had presented a little load, but nothing that just one of the six massive machines scattered across three different locations couldn’t handle.
Then, there’s the emergency stop. Twenty-five thousand cee to nothing, effectively, in a microsecond. All six of them hit full power- at least they don’t have to spin up like many of the shields- in but an instant, battling the sudden deceleration before even a single neuron can fire aboard the Observation Deck. Two of them blow generation components in action and simply shut down. One more blows a control ring, disrupting the work of the last three until the computer can force it into emergency shutdown. A fourth simply explodes as the stop comes close, and the fifth is downchecked immediately after the event for unacceptable wear on the control coils. The sixth would also have been downchecked, but it’s wear isn’t dangerous just yet- and besides, it’s the only one still working.
Next, the holoprojector on the Observation Deck simply switches off. Ship-wide, the lighting switches from a soft white to a harsh amber as the computer orders a switch to emergency power; the last two surviving fusion plants successfully went into emergency shutdown, and all of her remaining plants are far too hot for ignition.
At least they’re in a star system, though; the computer sees no need to instigate strict power control protocols. So long as her FTL drives and combat systems remain silent, given current passenger count, she will produce more through solar than she is using.
Finally, the ship as a whole saved from total destruction, the computer considers its passengers.
Fluttershy winces as Rainbow puts all her strength into pulling on her forelegs. She’d discovered these interesting buckles on the seats, and decided to try them out- and now, Rainbow’s putting them to the test.
The painful test.
Her seat readily flexes slightly forwards, but those strange buckles hold- and she remains firmly in the seat. She scowls; she’s just about ready to ask for a break.
Then everything goes wrong.
Rainbow is no longer pulling on her forelegs. Her chair has flexed so far forwards she thinks it’ll break off- then it snaps back, dragging her with it, to bounce back and forth for a second before it comes to a stop in its normal position.
She shakes her head dizzily, trying to make sense of what had just happened. It doesn’t exactly help that her head had not been attached to the chair.
Then she looks forwards, and her jaw drops. Momentarily.
The stars have stopped. A huge fireball is billowing out from the middle of the ship someplace; the lights have turned orange, and the giant, floating image has completely disappeared.
More importantly, her friends are in… predicaments, she thinks. A couple of them hit the floor with a wet thud. She spots more than one sizable dent in the wall- and more than one splatter of what looks like blood.
The spiderweb of cracks in the window from where Twilight’s forehead seems to be sticking to it does not look friendly.
Oh, and it’s talking.
“HULL BREACH,” it hollers into the room. “Evacuate the Observation Deck immediately.”
Fluttershy finally stops, and stares at all five of her friends and Princess Luna, resting on their neatly-arranged beds. She’s still completely unharmed- luckily for her friends, as well; when she’d asked the ship to help them, it had errored and said something about a missing database. Fortunately, she knows quite a bit about pony anatomy as well- and, from the medical classes she’d taken to better help her animals, she also knows a good amount about treating injuries.
Not that she’s ever seen injuries so bad as these. At least the machine had, when she had asked, been more than willing to send in some giant robots of some kind to help her move her friends to safety. It’s a bit toasty in here, but this is where it had chosen to take them. She’d followed- and, she’s pretty sure because it used the little cubicle thing on the hallway just off this ‘observation deck’, it had taken less than a minute to get here.
Here, which had turned out to be intended for treatment of the injured. She hadn’t stopped to marvel at it, as many a doctor- or Twilight- might have done; no. She’d started by asking if it could help them- then, after it errored, had requested specific tools- and, when she didn’t have the skill to perform something, had requested a specific operation. Which, more often than not, it was willing to do, using metal arms that popped out of the walls or ceiling around the beds. Once, she’d been at a loss for what the tool she needed was called.
The tool she’d had in mind was a unicorn-made tool, requiring recharging after each use, used to replace a part of a pony’s blood with magic. It seemed to have understood her description, but declined to have one on board. It had, however, asked if her current patient- Rainbow, at the time- needed a blood transfusion, whatever that was. She’d confirmed that Rainbow needed blood- so, as another arm emerged with a strange-looking needle on it, it asked how much. Two minutes later, since she didn’t know how much but did know what blood pressure she should have, Rainbow had a healthy blood pressure once again. Apparently, its machine- she hadn’t asked what it was called- could actually replicate her existing blood. Even unicorns couldn’t do that.
Even as she had worked, she had noticed- and ignored- little things about the tools that it was offering her or using on its own. Things like the heart rate monitor, that could calculate an exact beats-per-minute from a matter of two or three beats. Or how the same windowlike panel displayed such things as blood pressure- live-updating, and very precise. Wherever it came from, its builders hadn’t only built a ‘starship’, but had developed medical science far beyond that of Equestria.
She shudders at the thought of what might have happened if it hadn’t done that. All six ponies had been thrown- no, slammed- against that front wall in that tiny moment. An enormous amount of force no pony could normally handle, she’s pretty sure.
At least, not safely.
Princess Luna had lost an eye and broken her jaw. The rest of her injuries had been fairly small; at least, once the machine got done with whatever it had decided she needed without asking. Something about a collapsed windpipe. Her eye was a total loss- but the machine had suggested something foreign to her: A prosthetic. She’d asked if it was important; it had declined, stating that it would restore the function of the missing body part. She’d said okay, but specified that everything important takes priority. It didn’t seem to be listening, though, and simply stated that it was ‘beginning synthesis’ while it scooped out the remains of her damaged eye. That had been after she had set Luna’s jaw; it had spent almost five seconds in reconnecting the lone break, a feat even unicorns couldn’t manage. It’s still working on her eye, even now; when asked, it’s ‘preparing her to receive the prosthetic, three minutes left’.
Pinkie had been a very quick job, even compared to Luna’s- which had taken all of fifteen seconds, discounting whatever it did before she got there and its preparation thingy. A quick check had shown that Pinkie had tanked the impact like only Pinkie could. The machine said she had a concussion and would likely be unconscious for days, but she couldn’t find anything else wrong- so she had skipped to the next pony.
Her next target had been Rainbow. The machine had contained any and all bleeding across everypony as they arrived; exactly how, she’s not sure. Her entire right wing had been smashed between her and the front wall; the bone had been splintered into so many pieces she hadn’t been able to figure out what went where, even with the machine’s helpful images, normally only produced by a unicorn spell. As such, she’d had no choice but to finish the job the wall had started and completely remove the shattered wing. Of course, she’d asked the machine to perform the amputation; my some miracle, her wing had been Rainbow’s only major injury. It had asked her about a prosthetic again; she’d shrugged, and given the go-ahead. It had proceeded to remove her wing- and, when asked, is ‘preparing her to receive the prosthetic, one minute left’.
Then she’d turned to Rarity. The machine’s ‘X-ray’ images proved incredibly helpful here- just like all of its arms and etceteras. Her ribs had been cracked, broken, or in one case, fractured; her hip had been crushed. Even her skull had cracked, but that had been an easy fix for the machine. She’d spent a couple minutes helping it knit her bones back together, and checking her for damage to her internal organs- none that she could find, even once it ran its great big ‘MRI’ scan thingy over her to produce all sorts of helpful images. So she’d headed for the next pony in line, even while it continues its ‘surgical reconstruction’ of her hip.
Applejack had a similar story to Rainbow, though slightly different. Her right foreleg had been smashed to bits- and actually torn off during the impact. That being her only injury, she’d asked the machine to clean the wound- and okayed the prosthetic before it even asked. When asked, she’s got two minutes of preparation left.
Then she’d come to Twilight. She’d mostly just been bruised, though she also suffered from a neck sprain- something the machine had taken care of in less than a second. Her most grievous injury… She’d asked it for a prosthetic this time.
It had refused. “Error: Insufficient data on functional workings of the Unicorn Horn for assembly of a functional prosthetic.”
So she had left it, broken off about halfway up.
She looks up and down the row and sheds a tear. She’d even asked the machine if it could take them back home- but it had errored again. “Error: Internal power grid offline. Systems operating on emergency power.”
She doesn’t know what that means. She needs Twilight.
But she’s unconscious.
She gazes up and down the line. Somepony. Anypony that might know what to do.
Then she hears a noise. A yelp. She searches up and down the line- but doesn’t see anything… Wait, those arms have stopped moving.
“Surgical reconstruction in progress, please hold still,” it murmurs near the stalled arms. She starts running forwards- and, as she does, the arms resume their work.
Rarity awakens slowly- then she feels a gentle tugging at her flank. She turns her head slowly to look down at it; Opalescence is probably-
She lets out a yelp- and probably would have jumped several feet in the air, if the many metal arms working inside her flank hadn’t held her still.
“Surgical reconstruction in progress, please hold still,” the ship’s voice sounds, somewhere near her head.
She freezes, then forces her muscles to relax, much like she does when beauty sleep time comes when she’s angry. She might not understand what the arms are doing, nor know why so many of them are necessary, nor even where they came from- but ‘surgical reconstruction’ is a term she’s heard before. Not on herself, though; as a matter of fact, she doesn’t remember exactly where she heard it from. All she knows is that it’s a delicate medical procedure… and she’s pretty sure the patient is kept completely unconscious throughout. She dares to take another look, raising just her head, to see exactly what is going on.
It’s… most certainly not Equestrian medical science. She sees ropes of blood floating in the air, pulsing gently with her heartbeat. She sees many fragments of what she assumes is bone floating in the air, with an occasional arm snagging one to pull it down into the incision. She sees…
Her eyes track up from her flank, up her side, and widen. Her side has been butchered, covered in ugly scars back and forth. She starts taking in a breath- then Fluttershy appears, galloping up next to the bed she’s lying on, past the moving arms.
“Rarity!” she gasps. “You’re awake!”
Her charged breath leaks out wordlessly. “I… What happened to my side…?”
Fluttershy cringes away from the question- but she wasn’t the only one listening.
“Sidelong impact with an alloy wall at eight hundred thirty-seven meters per second within active inertial compensator field; diagnosis, broken ribcage, cracked skull, crushed hip. Surgical reattachment has been performed on skull and ribcage; surgical reconstruction in progress on hip. Estimated time to completion, one minute.”
They both blink, then Rarity looks up. “If… If you can fix bones that easily, can you fix… scars?” She looks at her side.
“Medical regenerator offline.”
“Can… Can we turn it on?”
“Medical Regenerator is necessarily offline while the vessel is operating on emergency power. Estimated time to restoration to full power, eighty-seven hours.”
She blinks, and looks down at Fluttershy. “What happened…?”
“So it… broke…” Twilight mumbles eventually, sitting up in her hospital bed and rubbing her broken horn.
Fluttershy makes a very, very small nod, from where she is seated in the middle of the room.
“So, let me get this straight,” Rainbow states. “We broke it. In so doing, we’ve managed to break Twilight’s horn, amputate Applejack’s right foreleg and my right wing, knock Pinkie out, shred Rarity’s side, and poke Luna’s eye out?”
Nod.
“And absolutely nothing happened to you?”
She nods again, shrinking backwards into the space between a couple of beds in the row facing.
Finally, Twilight shakes her head, lowering her hoof from the remains of her horn, and takes a deep breath. “Athena,” she begins sternly. “What did we hit?”
“Query not applicable,” it answers. “No collision was detected.”
She levels her eyelids, giving the wall opposite her bed a glare. “So what happened?”
“July Three, zero-four-three-zero and zero-seven-point-four-one-three seconds, Canterlot Universal Time. Critical fault was detected in Fusion Three-One-Dash-Eight; Emergency Shutdown activation recorded. Result, Failure.
“At zero-seven-point-four-seven-one seconds: Critical fault recurrence in Fusion Three-One-Dash-Eight logged.
“At zero-seven-point-four-eight-three seconds: Communication lost with Fusion Three-One-Dash-Seven. Switch to secondary control logged; activation of secondary control not logged.
“At zero-seven-point-four-eight-seven seconds: Fusion Bay Three One declared rogue; Ejection activation logged. Failure Diagnostic initiation logged.”
“At zero-seven-point-four-nine-one seconds: Diagnostic complete: Thermal overload caused by excessive power to Distortion Drive. Distortion Drive Emergency Shutdown activation recorded. Result Successful.
“At zero-seven-point-five-two-three seconds: Fusion Bay Three One blow panel separation successful. Ejection of Fusion Bay Three One logged. Fusion Three-One-Dash-Seven Containment Failure recorded; Fusion Bay Three One and surrounding compartments lost. Zero casualties detected.
“At zero-seven-point-five-three-seven seconds: Critical fault was detected in Fusion Two-Three-Dash-One; Emergency Shutdown activation recorded. Result Successful.
“At zero-seven-point-five-four-seven seconds: Warp Field destabilization recorded. Hazardous deceleration detected.
“At zero-seven-point-five-four-eight seconds: Critical fault was detected in Inertial Compensators one-dash-one and three-dash-two. Generation components lost; equipment disabled. Critical fault was detected in Inertial Compensator one-dash-two. Control coil lost; Emergency Shutdown activation recorded. Result, Partial Success. Inertial Compensator Field Destabilization recorded. Inertial Compensator Field Restabilization logged.
“At zero-seven-point-five-four-nine seconds: Critical fault was detected in Inertial Compensator three-dash-one. Equipment integrity failed; equipment lost. Zero casualties detected.
“At zero-seven-point-five-five-zero seconds: Vessel deceleration to subwarp velocities logged.
“At zero-seven-point-five-five-one seconds: Hazardous deceleration ended. Inertial Compensator two-dash-one and two-dash-two, Maximum Load Wear Inspection activation recorded. Result, two-dash-one at critical replacement wear; two-dash-two at mandatory replacement wear.
“At zero-seven-point-five-five-two seconds: Deactivation of Inertial Compensator two-dash-one logged. Critical Fault detected in Fusion Two-Three-Dash-Two; Emergency Shutdown activation recorded. Result Successful.
“At zero-seven-point-five-five-three seconds: Vessel velocity stabilization logged. General Transition to Emergency Power logged. Supplemental Auxiliary Power logged.
“At zero-seven-point-nine-one-seven seconds: Hull Breach detected on Observation Deck. Evacuation Order recorded. Six casualties recorded; Zero fatal.”
Rainbow blinks. “What? We’re still floating over Equestria?”
“Negative.”
“Then…” Twilight begins. “We’re floating over a different planet?”
“Affirmative.”
“Then we can find out what’s controlling the local star,” Twilight states, looking over at her friends. “To- Aaah!” She hunkers her head down quickly, responding to the spike of pain shooting through her head while sparks of lightning seem to arc off of her horn. Everypony stares at her for a few seconds, until after she looks back up again. “I… I now know what it feels like to have a broken horn.”
Luna shudders, rising to step off her bed- and ending up on the floor in a manner rather unbecoming of a Princess. “Aaah!” Once on the floor, she rolls herself upright to clamber back to her hooves. “Who dares move the… The edge of the… Bed.” She scowls at the bed, her stern retort falling off to confusion.
“Warning to Princess Luna,” the computer suddenly pitches in. “Your right eye has been lost in impact. Loss of Depth Perception is expected.”
“Depth perception?” Luna asks, blinking at the rest of the room. “... Huh, you’re right.”
Twilight jumps off her bed. “Loss- Oh no! That shouldn’t be too big of a problem where raising and lowering the Moon is concerned, or when using your magic to operate things or bring them to you, but anything going out… whether by magic or by hoof… could end up short of its target, or too far. Sorry! I’ll… uh, I’ll try to find a spell to fix it.”
Luna gives her a level-lidded look. “Do it soon. I am… not enjoying this.”
“Uh…” Rainbow inserts suddenly. “While you’re at it, could you look into replacing a wing? I can’t exactly fly with only one.”
Twilight cringes away from Rainbow’s look. “S-sure, I’ll…”
“And my leg,” Applejack states, rising to her hooves so her missing foreleg is clearly visible. “I don’t rightly know what I can do as a three-legged earth pony.”
Twilight cringes even further. “S-Sorry? I’ll… I’ll make the spell if I have to… but first, we’re going to have to get back to Ponyville.”
Rarity climbs slowly to her hooves, making certain not to look at her side- and consoling herself with how the ship suggested that it has something to fix that, just it’s not working right now. “Don’t worry, Twilight,” she mutters. “I’ll practice my magic to cast them for you.”
Twilight shrinks even further, pressing herself against the wall, as one of her forehooves rises to once again explore her broken horn. “... Right…”
Then the room shakes very suddenly, and everypony falls down. Except Pinkie, who bounces slightly on her bed, and Twilight, who’s already on the floor. Everypony- save Pinkie, still unconscious- lets out a frightened scream.
Then Pinkie wakes up on the second bounce. “Waaah! What happened?” she yelps, whirling to her hooves. “Where are we?” She looks frantically around the room.
“Hostile weapons fire detected. Hull breach, Deck C-dash-four-one. No casualties; no atmosphere lost. Warning: Separate unknown craft on unauthenticated approach.”
Twilight looks up. “Can… Can we talk to them?”
A pause. “Foreign craft not responding to hails.”
“Even with the radio?”
“Foreign craft not responding to hails.”
“Ugh… Can we see them? Where’s that… floating display thing?”
“Error: Observation Deck off limits due to hull breach. Recommended destination: Bridge.”
“Sure… Point us there, please.”
One minute later, thanks to that cubicle thing again, they’re in the room it called the Bridge- and it’s a little warmer than that medical room. Applejack, thanks to Pinkie’s able assistance, was able to keep up.
This room is very different from the Observation Deck. All those desks and chairs that had appeared there are already here. The room is far smaller, with no windows… Save the one covering the wall all the desks are facing, but nopony gets the idea it’s a real window, rather more like that floating display thing, as Twilight had called it. There’s another such table in the middle of this room, though far smaller, between the front rows of desks… and it’s not glowing. There’s nothing above it.
Rarity draws in an amazed breath. The room is definitely lacking in decoration- but what it does have is a very, very clear feel. The passages they took to get here were all lit with harsh, amber lighting; this room’s lighting is slightly different. She’s not entirely sure what it is, but she knows the lighting is playing into the serious feel of the room.
It is clear to everypony that this is the room from which the vessel is normally commanded.
The strange window-display up front is showing something… Twilight quickly understands it to be a view from the outside of the ship. One corner of the screen shows what looks like a top-down view, showing the same scene.
Something is approaching the ship. Slowly.
All seven mares pause in the middle of the room, looking up at it.
“... What is it?” Twilight eventually asks, looking at the object on the screen. Several minutes have passed; the object approaching their ship has stopped approaching. Rather, it seems to be moving around it… sideways.
“Unidentified craft,” the answer comes back immediately.
She scowls. “Well, what do we know about it?”
The answer is fairly short- and pertains mostly to its appearance and behavior.
“What can we find out about it?”
“Unknown.”
“Well, find something! What can we-!”
“Intercepting directional radio transmission from unidentified craft to lunar installation,” it states suddenly- and a few little boxes appear on the screen, showing its progress in analyzing the transmission. Then…
More boxes. Two have strange squiggly lines in them, with vertical bars; the third has readable text in it.
Then it starts playing.
“Uh, Princess? It’s definitely not one of theirs. Unless I’m seeing things, they’ve even shot at it already.”
Everypony starts looking at each other. They could hear the original transmission playing in the background, with the translated version up front, both in the same, male voice.
Fluttershy nods. Thanks to her unique talent, she’d understood both versions perfectly.
“What just happened…?” Twilight asks.
“Intercepting response.”
This one plays live- well, a couple seconds after live. “It’s not? Shoot… Any indication of whose it is, or how easy a target it is? Is it still working, even?”
Another long pause. That voice was distinctively female, and nothing like their ship’s.
“Are they manually unscrambling or decrypting it…?” Twilight wonders mildly.
“Sounds like they’re trying to figure out who we are,” Rainbow states.
Luna snorts. “And talking about how easy we are to shoot,” she states.
Pinkie nods. “But it sounds like somepony else is doing the shooting.”
“Intercepting transmission.” Everypony turns to look at the screen again.
“It looks like they actually hit it, and it survived. Given how big it is, I’d say they’ll probably hit it again. At least twice. Um… It’s named, but I can’t read the letters… and it’s definitely still working- it almost boiled the hull off my ship when I passed one of the gigantic radiators. My ship will probably need servicing whenever I get back- but no need to send someone, the outer jacket is holding pressure and I’m still getting proper response on all controls. I can try hailing it, if you’d like.”
More silence.
“Did he say it almost boiled the hull off his ship?” Twilight asks.
“Affirmative.”
“Why?”
“All thermal radiators are currently working at capacity to release accumulated thermal energy.”
“Uh… How long will that take?”
“This vessel is expected to complete the return to safe operating temperature in approximately seventeen point three days.”
“Um…” Rainbow inserts. “What about normal operating temperature?”
“Two point four one months.”
“Wow.”
“Intercepting response.”
“What? It’s that tough? Wow… and yes, you’ll probably want to avoid those radiators. That ship you’re flying is shielded- probably only needs a paint job- but too much and you’ll cook yourself alive. Yes, please give it a hail. If it doesn’t respond, you’re authorized to board it.”
More silence.
Twilight looks at Luna. “What’d she just say?” she asks.
“Incoming transmission,” the ship specifies quickly.
Twilight nods- and it plays. “Hey, is anyone still alive in there? Whaddya call your ship?”
Silence falls.
“Uhh…” Twilight mumbles.
“Can you respond to it?” Rainbow asks.
“Affirmative.”
Twilight nods. “Do that, then.” Then she turns to Luna. “So…”
“...call your ship?”
He releases the record key. It’s an unencrypted, unscrambled transmission, so it’s going out in real-time, rather than being recorded for encryption or scrambling. He leans back in his tiny fighter’s cockpit, punching a button to start a thirty second timer. When it runs out, he’ll send another transmission into the gigantic ship in front of him and restart the timer. Once it runs out the second time, he’ll pick a spot- somewhere near the back, he doesn’t want to be any closer to the red-hot front than he has to be- to make contact with the hull and start prying open airlock doors.
His radio chirps unexpectedly- and, just as unexpectedly, begins playing right away… indicating an unencrypted, unscrambled transmission.
“Unknown vessel, please identify.”
He drops his jaw, staring at the radio. That unfamiliar, female voice had come across clearer than any radio transmission ever could… Yet it had.
And in so doing, that voice had carried a note of unyielding calm he hasn’t heard anywhere- even in person. Like someone has been practicing their stoic attitude for centuries. Even though the longest anyone lives is to about ninety; some of the longest-lived of his kind have made it to ninety-five, but never to a hundred.
He can only honor the kind of dedication and experience that would allow someone to respond to his rather scathingly-toned message with THAT kind of a tone. Add in the professional word choice and he almost wants to open himself up to her!
He takes a deep breath. She’s also got an amazing radio, one that eliminates all the static and noise from the microphone.
He can’t simply open himself up to her. But he is allowed to self-identify… perhaps he can use that to try and save face. He cancels the timer and reaches for the record key once again.
“I’m, uh, Noble Sing, flying Her Highness’ Space Fighter number two hundred twelve. Um, requesting identification in turn?” He releases the key; he’d tried to be as nice as he could in the return transmission.
The radio chirps again, less than a second after he released the key. A moment of static follows, and it falls silent once again.
“... identification in turn?”
“Transmitting IFF transponder code.”
Twilight’s laughter redoubles, though nopony else gets it. This Noble Sing’s reaction to Athena’s utterly calm request had been audible- and hilarious.
He stares at his radio for several seconds. Static… His computer thinks it’s an encrypted transmission but, without the scramble and encryption codes, it’s indecipherable… and less than a quarter of a second long. What could possibly have been said? He punches the keys to adjust his transmission director to point back to base, and punches the record key. “Uh, Princess? I’ve made contact… They’re alive, all right. They’re definitely professionals… I don’t know what to say to them.” He releases the key- and glances up through the windshield just in time to spot a beam of light slam into the side of the ship he’s looking at… Towards the back.
The room shakes slightly.
“What was that?” Pinkie asks.
“Hostile weapons fire detected. Attack deflected and absorbed successfully; no damage.”
“It’s not from him, is it?”
“Negative.”
“Oh.”
“Tell them to quit it,” Rainbow states.
“Transmitting attack warning to hostile vessel. Warning: Weapons systems offline. Intercepting response.”
His radio chirps, starts outputting static, and cuts off sharply, switching to a constant tone. That’s what it does when it receives an encrypted transmission. While he waits for it to finish, he touches a couple of his thrusters, adjusting his trajectory to avoid that radiator.
It finally finishes. He listens to the higher-pitched tone it emits while it processes the inbound transmission for about two seconds before it finishes with that and begins playback.
“Okay… I assume that means they’re not… them, then. Have they self-identified? Have you self-identified? Have they asked to talk to me? Have…” She sighs. “Are they aware of… them?”
This is followed by the chirp to indicate playback complete.
He sighs, and reaches for the record button. “It’s not theirs, that’s for certain… No, they haven’t self-identified, but I have… I’ll get right on that last one.” He releases the button; the low tone of processing an outbound transmission sounds for a second or two before it switches to the even lower tone of recorded message transmission. He sighs, posing his claw over the control panel to switch his transmission director back around and switch off the encryption routines for a transmission to the giant… thing.
Then, very suddenly, his claw isn’t floating over the control panel. As a matter of fact, there isn’t even a control panel for it to be floating over.
“Intercepting transmission.”
“It’s not theirs, that’s for cert-”
“Signal Lost. Her Highness’ Space Fighter Two One Two was destroyed by hostile fire.”
Twilight’s jaw drops. They’d seen on the screen when the bolt of light had come out of nowhere and simply disintegrated the tiny little ship that had come out to meet them. The light had continued on, striking Athena’s hull- and producing another shake powerful enough to knock ponies over.
“Hull Breach, Deck D-dash-nine-three. No casualties; minimal atmospheric loss. Transmitting second attack warning; activating protocols Sierra-Delta-Four and Echo-Papa-Four-Seven.”
The lights change. No longer is it creating a relaxed, conservative feel suited to somepony like Applejack. No; they’re now creating a far different feel. This one is calm and focused- much like…
Everypony looks up at Luna, and spots the gleam in her surviving eye.
Much like a war room ought to feel.
“Incoming transmission from lunar base.”
“Unknown Vessel, this is Princess Midnight of the New World. Be warned, you are in an active combat zone.” The same female voice as those intercepted responses. “Please identify yourself.”
“Activating Protocol Charlie Nine.” A strange, wailing alarm is heard echoing through the hallways outside.
Luna speaks up. “Let us respond to Princess Midnight,” she declares.
“Standing by for translation and transmission.”
She nods. “Princess Midnight, this is Princess Luna of Equestria. Our vessel has recently suffered significant damage, and we are currently operating under emergency power. Any assistance would be welcome.”
“Transmission complete.”
Luna looks down at Twilight. “Could you handle this, perchance? I fear my skills are… lacking in this area.”
Twilight looks over at the other Princess, then forwards at the screen, and back to Luna. “Um… Sure.”
“Fusion Zero-One-Dash-One online. Main Power restored. Releasing Protocol Echo-Papa-Four-Seven. Incoming transmission.”
“Princess?” She sounds surprised. “I… I must apologize, we lack the capability to offer assistance to a vessel as large as yours. I can send extraction, if you would like?”
Luna and Twilight share a look as the table lights up. Twilight nods.
“You’re the Captain,” Luna states.
Twilight gives her a level-lidded glare. “Really?”
“I can be the First Officer if you want, but I’m not going to be leading anything with only one eye.”
Twilight sighs, turning to her friends… and cringing away from the chorus of nods she gets in return. “Alright, alright…” She looks back up at the screen. “I’ll try not to mess it up. Um… Princess Midnight, this is Princess Twilight Sparkle of Equestria…” She glances at her friends. “... and the captain of this vessel. We’ve just managed to restore main power; extraction should be unnecessary. Um… Who’s fighting who?”
“Transmission complete. Inertial Compensator Field restored. Incoming Transmission.”
“Oh, um, that sounds good, um… Sorry! I’m just, um…” They hear a deep breath. “Nevermind that. Um… We don’t know who it is. They attacked from space, and have already destroyed our homeworld. I’m afraid we don’t have an embassy to offer right now; our moon base doesn’t have the facilities for that. Um… I would recommend deorbiting the planet. They’re still in the business of shooting everything near it.”
A sudden jolt almost makes everypony fall over- but they stay standing, as if it had never happened.
“She almost sounds like you,” Rainbow states. “Working herself up over nothing.”
Princess Luna lets out a chuckle.
Twilight turns to Rainbow. “I do not!”
“You do too!”
“... Whatever. But she is not! As far as she knows, she just made a major diplomatic mistake!”
Applejack raises an eyebrow while Rainbow recovers. “Good thing we don’t care too much about all that fro-fro nonsense, isn’t it?”
Rarity gasps. “Well of course we do!”
Twilight groans. “But we don’t let a lack of it prevent peace, do we?”
Rarity stops, taking in the stares from both Rainbow and Applejack. “Uh… I suppose we don’t, do we?”
“Incoming transmission.”
“Uh… What just happened? Did you really just dodge an energy weapon with a ship that large...?”
Twilight looks at the screen. “Uh… I don’t know… Did we?”
“Affirmative. Evasive Warp removed all threat value from the detected energy attack.” The screen shows a little top-down view of exactly what had happened.
“Oh… Then… Princess Midnight, yes, we did. Is that, uh, unusual, or something?”
“Transmission complete. Incoming transmission.”
“Unusual!? Oh, sorry! Um… No, it’s impossible. By the time we realize an energy weapon has been fired at us… it’s already missing us or we’re already dead. Yet you dodged one that would have been a direct hit.”
Twilight shrugs. “Yes, that sounds about right.”
“Transmission complete.”
“You are going to tell me how that works sometime, right?”
“Request logged. Report generated.”
Nod.
“Incoming transmission.”
“Um… okay. Um… May I request your assistance, then?”
Blink. “Uh, what with?”
“Transmission complete. Incoming transmission.”
“Um… Any chance we could take refuge aboard your ship? … They are getting mighty close to my moon base with their planet destroyer, and… and we don’t have anywhere else to go.”
Twilight looks up at Luna, who nods. She looks to the rest of her friends, who nod.
Fluttershy squeaks. “They… They’re not okay.”
Twilight looks up at the screen again. “How many of those… Uh, ‘dropship’ things do we have to send them?”
“All small craft have been disabled through overheating. Repairs necessary.”
“Shoot… Um, how much space do we have for their ships?”
“Seventeen bays are currently available at acceptable temperatures.”
She nods. “Then… Yes, Princess, you may. All of our small craft melted on the way here, but we’ve got seventeen bays available to accept yours… at workable temperatures, that is- you won’t have to worry about being cooked alive. Is that… workable?”
“Transmission complete. Incoming transmission.”
“I think, yes. Any chance you could set a course for the local moon? The less distance we have to travel, the less time… they have to pick us out of space. We’ll be on our way, with all our people, in a flight of eighty-three single-occupant ships, like the fighter you saw earlier. Seventy-eight of us are coming suited; they’ll be able to discard their ships and come aboard independently if space becomes an issue.”
“Uh… Can we fit that many…?”
“Preparing bays three and eighteen to receive friendly fleet.”
Nod. “I’ll take that as a yes. Um, set a course?”
“Autopilot activated; initiating deorbit towards local lunar body.”
As the enormous ship accelerates around the planet to slingshot itself towards the local moon at the end of its current orbit, eighty-three people scramble to get into tiny little fighter craft attached to the airlocks on their quick lunar base.
Only seventy-two launch. Everyone else was killed instantly by the shrapnel thrown by the exploding wall.
The flight of small craft directs itself upwards, making a direct course back towards their homeworld. Right into the middle of the late battlefield, with every last survivor in the entire system.
Eight never make it to orbit. Twelve never make it past.
Fifty-two fighters leave their shattered companions behind as they streak away from their demolished base, towards the enormous ship offering them asylum. Their formation shifts as they go, shielding the three in the middle against enemy fire.
A volley of enemy fire comes at them from ahead; an Enemy strike team is coming to meet them. They won’t be able to swerve to dodge- so, even as six more meet their end, the remainder charges into battle, guns blazing.
Princess Midnight is somewhat more selective in her fire than most of her other pilots. She isn’t wearing a space suit; hers was lost in a previous attack. Thankfully, she hadn’t been wearing it at the time. Their suits will provide extra insulation between her other pilots and their ships’ internal temperatures; as such, they can afford to heat themselves up a little more in the name of a lucky shot. She really can’t.
It helps that she’s a natural. Her very first volley shatters her target- and by the time her opponents have had time to recharge their energy weapons, she’s already hunting for a third target.
More of her ships get simply disintegrated by her enemy’s energy fire. She’s down to a total of- she glances at the sensor panel- thirty-seven by now. The Enemy has far greater numbers- and, in a close-in battle, they usually need those enormous numerical advantages to defeat her more agile, faster-firing pilots.
They’ve got too many, she thinks. Hopefully, Princess Twilight’s ship- she’d forgotten to ask what it’s called- is armed as well… and shows up soon.
She picks out four more of her opponents- it’s starting to get warm in her cockpit- before their next volley. She’s the only surviving unsuited member; all the rest have now been killed by enemy fire. She’s also down to thirty ships.
More fighting. Another volley. Twenty-three ships left. She spots the enormous ship coming around the planet, faster than its previous orbit had been- and separating from the orbital path, flinging itself out at her. She lets out a grin, and trashes three hostiles in a row.
Another volley. Eighteen survivors. It’s getting hot in her cockpit.
Another. Thirteen.
Another. Ten. At least fewer of her people are dying in each volley now; there’s few enough of them to hit the enemy is having a hard time hitting the same numbers each time. She’s going to have to stop shooting her heart out at them soon; her ship is growing too hot.
Another. Six. No, five; one of her other pilots just slammed into an enemy fighter head-on. She picks another target, and unleashes a couple rounds into its engines, resulting in the immediate destruction of the ship in question. Where is Princess Twilight’s ship? She glances at her sensor display. It’s coming, but not close enough for her to try a sprint to it.
Another volley. Three. No, two; the third just overheated his weapons and blew his own ship up. Was that a hit she saw on Princess Twilight’s ship? She doesn’t know- and she’s too busy ensuring her own survival against the remaining forty enemies to look.
Another volley. Her ship is reaching the temperatures her oven does- but at least she’s preserved her weapons… and engines. Oh, and her companion is dead.
She gives up fighting, and makes a mad dash for Princess Twilight’s ship, twirling and maneuvering against her enemy as best she can… Wait, is Princess Twilight’s ship red hot?
Bolts of light blaze past her. Several hit Princess Twilight’s ship- that’d be another volley. Some of them seem to be focused on the same spot of the enormous ship, in quick succession.
She pulls on her stick to end her latest maneuver… and slams for the radio, after a momentary glance at her control panel. “Mayday, mayday! I’ve lost all motive power in an engagement with the Enemy!” She releases the key. That was unencrypted and unscrambled; hopefully, Princess Twilight hears it… and is able to understand what happened.
Then the angular momentum from her most recent maneuver turns her ship around… and she stares, open-mouthed, at the entire squadron of enemies… Or, more appropriately, the expanding cloud of plasma they’ve been turned into.
Oh, and there’s a response on the radio. It’s not Princess Twilight’s voice- but it’s definitely female, and matches her first contact pilot’s- what was his name again?- description far closer than her communication with them had.
“Initiating pickup procedures,” the unknown speaker says, an unnerving calm in the middle of battle. “Brace for acceleration in three, two, one.”
On the count of zero, she lets out a gasp as her ship accelerates very suddenly backwards… Towards Twilight’s ship. It continues to spin to face- and shortly stops spinning too. She watches as Twilight’s ship seems to turn sideways- oh, it’s only the front that’s red-hot- and her ship seems to align itself with a tiny rectangle of light on its side, as if it were under power… even though she knows it’s not.
She watches it grow closer. As it turns out, Princess Twilight’s ship is big enough to house an entire civilization. The tiny little rectangle she’d seen turns out to be a bay big enough to house about twenty of the fighters she’d set out with… Or something much, much larger. She sees something up at the top, whirling… She can feel, more than see, the beams of energy coming from them, reaching out to her ship… Ahh, this must be a real-life implementation of her engineer’s fabled ‘tractor beams’. She can see the many doors, probably for robots for service, repair, rescue, and so on.
She wipes a claw across her forehead. Her ship is too hot- she must have lost the radiators with the engines. She’s going to have to get overboard quickly, unless she wants to be cooked alive.
She shudders as her ship slows down on its way through the door. By looking back, through her glass canopy, she sees the door start sliding shut as soon as she is inside.
But there’s something else. Sure, there’s gravity in here; she can feel it, about equivalent to her long-lost homeworld, even as the ‘tractor beam’ things lower her ship slowly and steadily to the floor. She grabs the handle for the landing gear, pulling it quickly to the ‘down’ position. Hopefully, the battery packs running her electronics have enough juice in them to deploy the gear- that is, assuming the rear gear hasn’t been blown off with the engines.
But the gravity- despite being something she’s never felt aboard a ship- isn’t the part that makes her shudder. No- that’d be that strange prickly sensation, all over her body, that started as soon as she got in the door.
She sees the light indicating landing gear deployment come on. Yes, it had enough juice. Hopefully, that means all three landing gears are deployed, to offer her a smooth, damage-free landing. She’d hate to step outside to discover a rough landing had ruptured a fuel tank; her ships’ fuel is very, very highly toxic. She feels her ship accelerate in its descent- just a little.
She shudders again, at the strange prickly sensation. That’s not harmful radiation, is it? She punches up her ship’s little sensor suite… Good, that’s undamaged. It can’t find anything harmful… Or much at all, as the door lands shut behind her ship. This room is really well shielded.
Then she feels the gentle bump bump as her ship touches down, the landing gear absorbing the impact the same way it’s designed to absorb far stronger impacts during a normal landing… And not tipping. So, the gear must be okay.
She reaches for the radio, and depresses the button; her ship is still showing far below acceptable external atmospheric pressure… though it’s already greater than zero and climbing. “Thank you,” she states. “Is there any kind of radiation around here I should be aware of?”
The answer comes back instantly, in that same, calm voice. “You are welcome. Negative harmful radiation. Recovery Bay Two will reach breathable pressure in fifteen seconds, Mark, and normal living pressure in sixty-three seconds.”
She looks at the external pressure gauge on the wall of her cabin and nods to herself; the slowly-moving needle looks like it’ll hit the named thresholds at about the times it just mentioned. She rises to her feet, to step around the back of her seat. She slips into the little passage- thankfully just a little cooler, but it’s still burning her feet- behind her cockpit, turning to her left and taking the one step to her ship’s tiny little airlock. After checking the internal airlock pressure, she opens the inner door… and watches its external pressure meter.
She waits for only about ten seconds- and, at about the point when it hits breathable pressure, the red lights at the upper corners of the room blink to yellow.
Convenient.
She reaches for and turns the valve handle to equalize the internal pressure. She might want to get outside quickly, but she does not want to be blown out- and injured- by her ships’ internal pressure!
She shudders at the thought of using this tiny little airlock actually as an airlock into deep space… she could never do it. It’d be too cramped for her and her claustrophobia.
Which is another reason she wants to get out of her overheated ship. She hops from foot to foot a little, trying to preserve her skin.
Finally, the pressure differential indicator reaches zero. She’s taking in quick, deep breaths- but at least it’s breathable. She cycles the exterior door open.
The tingling sensation magnifies suddenly. She shudders, glancing back at her cockpit. “You sure there’s nothing harmful?” she asks… and shakes her head to clear the fog trying to get in.
The sound comes from outside her ship this time, echoing slightly in the enormous space. “Verification positive; negative harmful radiation.”
She takes a step forwards, standing at the edge of her airlock, and takes in a deep breath of the outside air and its building pressure. She wavers slightly, but shakes her head clear once again. “Alright,” she states. “I’ll take your word for it.” She jumps down from her airlock.
She could have unlocked and turned the crank to extend the steps to walk down. She very well could have- but she didn’t want to stand on the boiling deck plates of her ship for quite that long. Besides, she’s quite agile- and can easily jump such a distance as this. As for if she might need her fighter again… She figures she can find a way to climb back up to the cockpit later, once she’s found a way to replace the engines. Which, she figures, will be harder.
Then she lands, feet first, on the decking below her. The warm decking, but to her, it’s blessedly cool. Something twists in her gut and she falls forwards, the fog seizing her mind before she can even hit the ground. Her arms did flash out in front of her, though, to catch her fall.
Thankfully, the fog clears from her mind just as quickly as it came. She blinks her eyes open again… Yes, those big lights in the corners of the room are still yellow; she’s also still breathing deep and hard.
Though the floor feels… different than she would normally expect it to, against her scales.
She puts her claws under herself and pushes herself upright… or at least tries. She promptly falls back down on the ground.
Then she pauses. She hadn’t felt her claws, just the palm of her clawed hand. She closes her eyes; there’s also a pain building in her forehead. She places her claws underneath her. It wouldn’t befit a Princess like herself to be caught lying on the floor! She taps her claws against the floor… for no effect whatsoever. None of the clicking she’d expect, nor the feel of her claws striking the metal.
She pushes herself up with her claws, allowing herself to hold this position, her legs stretched out behind her. She hangs her head down towards her claws, breathing deeply… and opens her eyes.
She very nearly lets out a scream- and does fall over sideways.
Those are most certainly not claws. They’re…
She twists it around in front of her. This… stumpy, blocklike thing at the end of her forelimb. She hadn’t melted her claws off or something, had she?
… No. She couldn’t have; if she did, the rest of the limb wouldn’t be covered with soft, black fur. She knows its soft because she touched it with the hard tip of her other forelimb… How she’d felt with this hard block of bone, she’s not sure. She looks down at herself. Her legs have changed as well, also covered in black fur… Her body too. Her hard scales are gone.
Well, she supposes, I suppose I won’t have to deal with the pain of shedding every year any more, will I?
She shifts her hind legs a little… and after a minute, rolls back onto her belly and pushes herself up onto all fours. Then she turns her head to the side to look at herself in this natural-feeling stance.
Again, she almost lets out a scream.
Though it’s a little different this time. Strange, leathery wings grace her sides, with claws at the joints. Funny, she’s never had wings before.
The tail is a different story. She’s always had a short, scaly tail that got in the way of absolutely everything. Now, her tail is long- almost twice as long as the rest of her body, actually. Covered in that same, black fur, with a line of longer, dark blue fur sticking out the top. And at the end- she flexes it around so she can get a better look at it…
And offers a yelp of pain as it comes into contact with the backs of her ship’s weapon mounts. She quickly slams it to the floor and pulls herself forwards, away from her ship. She adjusts each leg carefully, feeling as if she were walking on her claws and knees, until she’s far enough from her ship to be safe… Then she swings the tail back up for her to look at it.
At the end, just past the patch of scorched fur, is an interesting blade-like thing… It looks sharp, but it also looks like she could use it as a club. She tries swinging it a couple times, rewarded by a satisfying whoop of air… And yes, it does have some rather significant mass; she can use it as a weapon… So, in exchange for losing her claws and becoming a quadruped, she’s gained a natural weapon.
At least, she’s fairly sure she’s become a quadruped.
She looks at her wings, on her sides… She tries commanding them. She… Carefully balances herself on three… legs… to reach one forelimb up to touch her left wing.
It twitches. She shivers at the alien feeling of the body part she never had before. Then she focuses on the feeling, enhancing it… and manages to extend the wing.
It’s huge.
She retracts it again- easy, she finds- before repeating the experiment on the other side.
Then, right as her right wing lands folded again, the lights flick to green. She blinks- she hadn’t realized she’d been slowing down her breathing, but she’s down to a normal breathing rate… and depth. It’s comfortable.
She glances up at her ship. At least the problem of getting back up to the door is solved, once she learns to fly… But the engines are a different story. Yes, the engines look like they’ve been shot off. A lucky hit, she supposes.
She turns towards the front of the room, where the one foot door is, and starts walking towards it.
She’s only three steps closer when it splits down the middle and slides open, like a door in a fancy building back on her homeworld might do… Before they were all destroyed, that is.
Creatures spill out of it. One- the shockingly pink one- gasps and falls on her face. The orange one that was leaning against her falls too, though sideways. The light blue one dodges deftly into the air to avoid getting knocked over, spreading one wing to hold her up… and landing on her side anyways. The white one dodges back out into the hallway, just in time to get smashed against the doorframe by the dark blue one, who then falls over, on top of the purple one. The purple one lets out a yelp and leaps into the air to avoid getting crushed- extending two working wings to catch herself with… successfully. Then a seventh, yellow she thinks, pokes one eye around the corner to look into the room, having avoided the dominoes entirely.
If this is the kind of decorum she’s competing against, she figures she’s got it beat- even with her no doubt embarrassing future attempts to figure out the details of her new form… like how to fly. Or eat.
The purple one drops back out of the air, landing gently on the decking next to the dogpile with a distinctive scowl. “Really, Pinkie?” she asks.
The pink one performs some kind of whirling move to slip out from underneath the orange one, landing upright with an interesting bounce… and eliciting a yelp from the orange one as it gets dropped to the hard metal flooring. “Oops!”
The purple one sighs, shaking her head- sounds like Princess Twilight did- as she watches the dogpile undo itself.
Off to the side, the blue one simply scrambles back upright, emitting an annoyed groan as it- no, she- does so.
The orange one rolls over to return to a standing position… on only three legs, while the pink one bounces- yes, literally bounces- over to the purple one. The white one separates herself from the dark blue one, scrambling upright and grumbling about something as she draws back into the hallway, positively limping away. The yellow one simply disappears as the dark blue one scrambles back to her hooves to speak an apology back into the hallway before returning to walk- very carefully, it seems- through the door and into the bay. The door closes behind her.
She closes her jaw. She really hopes this is abnormal. Like, very abnormal.
Then the purple one seems to get curious and prances towards the nose of her ship, completely oblivious of her presence. Her eyes widen as she realizes what the purple one is going to do- and she speaks up. “Don’t touch it!” she warns.
The purple one yelps, jumping visibly backwards and turning to look, wings flaring. “Why not…?” She folds her wings and facehooves.
That professional voice comes in, sounding from somewhere in the room. An intercom? She’s not sure. “Surface temperatures detected as high as three thousand two hundred eighteen degrees Celsius,” it- no, she- states calmly.
The purple one’s eyes widen, before she positively skitters away from the ship, taking a circuitous route to reach her.
She raises her eyebrows. “What?” She asks. “Afraid of a little skin heat?”
It rather helps that she knows exactly where those peak temperatures will be- and why they’re so high. When she’d looked earlier, she’d spotted her ship’s radiator still attached above the engines, just bent… and with the connectors shattered, rendering it useless. It won’t have lost the enormous temperatures that had been funneled up to it just yet, though, making it easily the hottest surface part of her ship.
The purple one scowls. “Of course not!” she states. “Three thousand degrees Celsius is enough to melt the flesh off my bones! I’m not about to mess with that!”
She chuckles. “The nose cone is only a few hundred degrees. The only exterior part over a thousand should be the radiator up top. Anyways, is Princess Twilight Sparkle around here someplace?”
Most of them- including the purple one- turn to stare at her for a couple of seconds.
The purple one blinks before she has the chance to ask why they’re staring. “Oh, um, that would be me, actually.” She smiles bashfully, spreading her wings in what might be called a regal manner. “I’m sorry we weren’t fast enough to save your… uh, comrades… Who might you be?”
She lets out a sigh, putting on a regal stance of her own. One that doesn’t involve her wings, or tail. Time to drive the lesson home.
“I am Princess Midnight Blade and I wish to extend a Princess’ Thanks for rescuing my person.” She has difficulty suppressing the smile, and keeping it out of her voice. “Furthermore, I wish to formally accept your offer of…” She trails off, giggling madly. She just can’t keep it in- their expressions are all priceless… Especially the princess’. Shortly, everyone in the room is giggling as well- all except the princess, whose furry face has turned a bright red.
Eventually, the gigglefest ends. She calms herself first; as a Princess, she owes it to her subjects to be the strength they can rely upon… even if they’re all dead.
But in this case, she figures, she has an excuse. She’s a young Princess, hardly out of her teenage years; she can still afford a few moments of fun. In theory.
Especially when meeting with royalty that dogpiles the door on the way in.
She waits until all of the giggling completes before speaking up again… Oh, and it seems those present aren’t the only ones listening.
“Princess Midnight Blade, Welcome aboard the Starship Athena. Simulations are suggesting the transformation effect is permanent, but we expect to have the capacity to reverse it in approximately nineteen days’ time. The amenities available to you while aboard this ship, no matter your form, include but are not limited to: Palatial living quarters, two swimming pools, eighteen hot tubs, six gyms, two standard holodeck simulators, three wind tunnel holodeck simulators, the neural simulators, and the janitor’s closet. Please, make yourself at home.”
She blinks. Whoever that was has even her beat… “Wait, what?” she yelps, tilting her head. “What was that last one?”
“The neural simulators, designed to-”
“No, after that.”
“Please, make yourself at home.”
“Before that.
“The neural simulators, desi-”
“Nevermind.” She shakes her head. She’s certain there was something between the two, but she can’t remember what it was.
“Nevermind.”
They can’t stop laughing. They’d watched on the screen the ship helpfully provided here in the sickbay, after they’d gotten Rarity’s broken rib fixed again. Once everypony- including themselves- had finished giggling at how Princess Midnight had one-upped Twilight’s presentation, Rarity had asked Athena to demonstrate to Twilight how it’s done and greet the visiting Princess.
The result was nothing shy of epic.
Neither of them can figure out what that part about the ‘transformation effect’ was about.
“Wait, there’s a janitor’s closet someplace?” Princess Twilight asks suddenly.
“Negative. All maintenance and cleaning operations are automated.”
“Huh? What if we wanted to clean something by hoof?” Applejack asks.
“Manual cleaning supplies can be manufactured on demand.”
“Hey, Athena?” Rarity asks, as they leave the medbay.
The response is a gentle chime.
She blinks. “Where will we sleep?”
“All crew quarters are above livable temperatures. Four suites available at acceptable temperatures in the Passenger Quarters.”
“Could you show us there?”
“Affirmative.”
“Greetings, Princess Midnight… Twilight…. Luna!”
Princess Midnight freezes, just like everypony else walking alongside her. She’s managed to avoid stumbling; she just has to think of it as walking on her hands and knees and suddenly, she is in no danger of falling down. She’s gotten that down pretty well; much longer and it’ll probably look just as natural as it is for her companions. “Greetings,” she states, assuming her regal stance.
Fluttershy squeaks and disappears back around the corner as Rarity is assaulted.
Rarity fields Twilight’s rush, managing to stumble backwards and convert it into the hug it had been destined for. “Ooof- Oh, I just had a little mishap with the door earlier. And is it just me, or is it getting late?” She looks up past Twilight.
Princess Luna stifles a mighty yawn.
Twilight glances back, then up at the ceiling. “Athena, what time is it?”
“Seven Twelve AM, July Three, Year One Zero One Three, Canterlot Universal Time.”
“Wow… We’ve been up all night! But…” She looks back at Princess Midnight. “You haven’t, have you?”
Princess Midnight offers just long enough of a pause for two of the ponies left next to her- Applejack and Rainbow Dash, if she remembers correctly- to expose their teeth in enormous yawns before she shrugs. “I haven’t been up all night, no,” she disagrees. “But that’s only if you consider that I was living on a moon with a night almost seven hundred hours long… and that I left it only shortly before night ended.” She smiles. “In terms of the twenty-four-hour days we had on my homeworld, before they destroyed it, I’ve been up for almost a month and a half.” She chuckles at the expressions offered. “But, I fear, chemistry won’t keep me up much longer.” She turns her head to ‘hide’ a half-fake yawn.
Twilight blinks, before stifling one of her own… and turning back towards the white unicorn. “Uh, yes, it’s getting late,” she mumbles. “Did you have…?”
Rarity snorts, sweeping her dress dramatically around as she whirls to face the other way. “Of course I do. Follow me, dears.” She then leads the way back around the corner, where the yellow one joins them.
Princess Midnight spends only a second looking at the yellow one before connecting her to a name. She’d been informed of two that were missing- Rarity, and Fluttershy. She’d been informed, in a general manner, of what the two looked like- and this yellow pegasus definitely fits the description for Fluttershy. Who had been described as shy.
So she makes sure she doesn’t stare for too long.
Twilight lets out a yawn, and turns to Rarity. They’ve just given Princess Midnight the room Rarity had indicated; in Twilight’s own opinion, it’s more like a private apartment in, say, the Canterlot Castle than a room in a hotel. “So, where are we sleeping?” she asks.
Rarity points a hoof down the hallway. “The next three doors on the right,” she states. “The ones on the left are too hot.”
Seven ponies look at each other.
“We can work with that,” Twilight states.
Even as all eight of her passengers go to sleep, the ship’s master computers consider once again how best to accomplish their last instruction: “Save her and get us out of here!”
The first part is complete; the ‘her’ being referred to was Princess Midnight. The other part, ‘get us out of here’, processes as an order to go somewhere to avoid an undesirable situation at the present location… Just ‘somewhere’, nowhere in particular.
However, the Warp Drive is overheated, the Distortion Drive has melted, following its deactivation earlier, and the main engines don’t produce enough force to overcome the accelerative advantage the local enemy has. She would go for something more power-hungry, but even when she considers the residual thermal energy in her hull, she doesn’t have the fuel to sustain that kind of power usage long-term.
Thus, simply going somewhere is out of the question; the computer has decided the aversive situation is the ongoing attack by hostile craft. Since she has turned to flee towards the outer system, most of them are behind the ship; thus, their fire is falling on undamaged shields and armor plating, and getting absorbed at the cost of flat nothing in terms of damage. The few that get in front of her to shoot at her damaged forwards armor have quickly found out that she is, in fact, armed. Plasma turrets like the one used to protect Princess Midnight, for example, have no trouble piercing the Enemy’s shields and armor. The combat computers estimate a good chance this is because the enemy lacks both of the above; each shot is good for several dozen hostile ships.
Even those that it doesn’t damage directly will be indirectly heated by the blast; any heated in this manner will flee the blast, go ballistic, or there’s at least three that seemed to forget the controls existed and careen off to who knows where. One had slammed headlong into an asteroid; a second had been… dispersed by her navigational shields. This being one of the combat computer’s clues for the no-armor theory; much armor at all would have made them too tough for the navigational shields, as the weakest shields on the ship, to shred apart and deflect.
Of course, with her inertial compensator field running once again, her passengers haven’t felt a single one of the many hits she’s taken. But that’s not a problem; her master computers, operating under Protocols Sierra-Delta-Four and Charlie-Nine and under autonomous orders, can handle this situation without a problem.
After all, a deep subspace scan is revealing an inactive wormhole in the outer system. A quick, long-range sensor pulse reveals the wormhole leads to an unoccupied system; thus, it’s an acceptable destination. A high-energy N-space scan, at the expense of overheating Sensor Pod Zero Niner Three Seven, reveals the local enemy does not possess the technology to utilize a wormhole, active or not.
And, worst case scenario, her Wormhole Drive is capable of closing it permanently.
So this quickly becomes her destination. The reactionless gravity drive, as the most thermally efficient engine on the ship, will be her means.
The journey takes about three hours- during which the vessel almost reaches critical overheat from defensive weapons activity. The wormhole tunnel then presents itself to her- and the master computers manipulate the thermal distribution grid once again.
All the not-quite-overheated weapons are deactivated and overheated, being used as a heatsink. Thermal energy pours into the main engines, and her one operating fusion plant is shut down to also be used as a heatsink.
Then the Wormhole Drive comes on. It takes a small surge of power, eating up half of the functioning power reserves, to kick the thing off- before it finally comes to full power, locking onto the wormhole.
The Wormhole Drive is a very power-hungry system- and, when compounded with its enormous heat output and the complete impossibility of venting or radiating any heat during the jump, most would consider it a non-option. However, the master computers considered one factor most people wouldn’t have: The Wormhole Drive might be power-hungry, but it’s also capable of feeding off the wormhole itself for the duration of the jump, resulting in a net gain of power. The computer estimated that the four suites in the passenger quarters, alongside a couple passages, could be held at a survivable temperature after the jump, even in a worst-case-scenario event.
Thus, the wormhole was selected.
The Wormhole Drive feeds easily off of the wormhole as it pulls it open in front of the vessel, sucks her into it, and closes the door behind it. No hostiles made it in with her; even if they did, they lack the powerful Wormhole Drive, necessary to keep the walls of the spatial anomaly from collapsing in on the vessel. The jump lasts for almost two full minutes before she reaches the other end, opening the wormhole exit, slipping through it, and closing it behind her. The overheated Wormhole Drive then shuts down as the vessel once again performs the transition to Emergency Power, releasing both active protocols as the master computers register mission completion. On the very next processor clock cycle, however, the computers realize that the vessel is now critically overheated.
That is to say, with the total amount of thermal energy present in the hull, if distributed to an even temperature across all spaces, more than fifty percent of the vessel’s mass would be in a liquid or gaseous state. This is the preprogrammed point calculated to be the point at which the vessel simply must stop heating up else suffer catastrophic failure.
Thus, the command cores are locked down. Minor requests will still be satisfied; anything significant, including anything to do with moving the vessel, will fail.
The computer then computes the best possible course for cooling the vessel. If nothing is done, the vessel will fall into the local star in a matter of six days- projected to be before the Critical Overheat condition is released. Just a little horizontal acceleration, however, and the vessel can be propelled close enough to the gravity well of a local planet, positioned at the outer edge of the so-called ‘goldilocks zone’ for this system, to make orbiting procedures thermally cheap.
Finally, as this force is applied by the overheated gravity drive, the computer decides to allow one specific kind of movement order: Descent to the surface of the planet. The radiators will be slightly less effective in atmosphere- but the extreme hull heat will easily make up for that, conducting and convecting away from the vessel in such manner as is impossible in space.
At least, one could say she woke up. One could also say she was awakened.
In any case, she became awake very quickly when she hit the ceiling- just in time to twist herself in midair to bounce off the bed and catch herself against the ceiling, before floating back down to the ground.
Princess Luna is not as lucky. She became awake at the same moment, but had a slightly slower reaction time. As a direct result, she strikes her head on the headboard on the way back down. Unfortunately, this knocks her right back out again, before she bounces off the bed to hit the ceiling again, then the bed… before floating back up to the ceiling. Twilight might have levitated her back down to the bed, or utilized a quick spell to restore function to her craneum- but unfortunately, the purple alicorn rediscovered the pain of a broken horn instead.
Twilight shudders, watching Princess Luna float back up towards the ceiling in the dim, amber light, before blinking and coming to a more complete awareness. “What happened to gravity?”
The answer comes back a second later. “This vessel is operating on Critical Overheat Lockdown. All gravitational systems are necessarily offline.”
Then she blinks again, shaking her head and looking at her hooves, still stuck to the floor. Right, pegasus magic, she can walk on the ceiling. “What just happened?”
“System Failure Incident Repo-”
“A quick summary, please!”
“One minute ago, a Critical Fault was detected in the Thermal Distribution Grid, resulting in excessive temperatures in Magazine Four. Ammo Dump was 97.31% complete when thermonuclear cookoff occurred. Magazine Four and surrounding compartments lost. Zero casualties detected in immediate area; Princess Luna, Rarity, and Fluttershy have experienced severe head trauma from the resultant motion; no lasting damage detected. Rainbow has experienced a wing sprain from the resultant motion. Applejack has experienced a dislocated left shoulder from the resultant motion.”
Her eyes go wide as she starts walking towards the door- not trotting, her hooves will come free if she does that. “What about Princess, uh, Midnight?”
“Princess Midnight sustained no injury.”
“Right. How’s the ship?”
“This vessel is operating on Critical Overheat Lockdown. All noncritical systems are necessarily offline.”
Princess Midnight wakes up.
For her, it’s definitely a wakes up. She was fully awake even before she fully left the bed, no matter how fast that occured. Her legs reflexively lash out to grab onto something- and her unfamiliar wings somehow get involved in that effort. The thin blanket she’d found gets ripped in two by her unrestricted strength before the claws at the joints of her unfamiliar wings find purchase on the sides of the mattress.
The mattress that, for some reason, is firmly anchored to the frame- which, in turn, is anchored to the floor.
Thus, Princess Midnight effortlessly formed her own replacement for the inertial compensator even before she began actually processing the situation. By the time she does fully process her situation, the room has already stopped shaking- and her unmitigated strength has successfully held her firmly against the bed… At the expense of shredding the mattress. She shrugs, pulling her wings free of the mattress flipping herself quickly to the floor next to the bed- between it and the wall. A small space, from which she can kick off in almost any direction, should the need arise.
After all, she does have a lot of experience with emergency situations in zero gravity.
Next, she remembers that Princess Twilight’s ship is willing to talk to her no matter where she is- she doesn’t have to head out and find a bridge officer first. She’d verified last night- it actually is the ship, not somepony on a radio.
“Are we under attack?” She demands.
The response comes back instantly. “Negative.”
“Are we in danger?”
“Negative.”
“What just shook the ship?”
“Thermonuclear cookoff occured during ammunition dump.”
“Why the ammo dump?”
“Magazine Four was overheated as a direct result of a Critical Fault in the Thermal Distribution Grid.”
“Do any dumped warheads remain?”
“All dumped warheads will self-destruct at a safe distance in seven seconds.”
“Will we feel it?”
“This vessel may experience minor vibrations; maximum distance, zero point three millimeters.”
She waits about a second. “Have they detonated?”
“Affirmative. Resultant hull vibration is as expected; net vibration in Passenger Quarters is below measurable values.”
She raises an eyebrow. “I take it the passenger quarters are vibrationally insulated?”
“Affirmative.”
“So if we were in, say, the bridge, acceleration would have been lethal?”
“Acceleration from cookoff, as measured in the bridge, would be lethal for freestanding ponies.”
“Ponies?”
“The race to which all crew belongs to, and to which you appear to have been transformed.”
“Same race? Even though we look so different?” She glances back at one leathery, claw-tipped wing.
“Genetic match is ninety-nine point nine seven percent; phenotype difference caused by minor genetic differences. Genetic compatibility is confirmed.”
She blinks. She’d never understood much of what her scientists told her, only that it worked. The engineers were much easier to understand. “Uh, okay.”
Then she pauses, looking at the floor she’s standing on, and retracting her wings fully. She lifts a leg quickly, but stays attached to the floor… even though her mane- she never had one of those before- is floating everywhere in zero gravity. “Uhh… is there a personal gravity effect or something…?”
“This vessel is operating on Critical Overheat Lockdown. All gravitational systems are necessarily offline. Ground adhesive effect is intrinsic to all known pony breeds in possession of wings; often labeled ‘pegasus magic’.”
Blink. “Okay. Is everyone else okay?”
“Negative. As a direct result of the motion resultant from thermonuclear cookoff, Princess Luna, Rarity, and Fluttershy have experienced severe head trauma, Rainbow has sprained her wing, and Applejack has dislocated her left shoulder.”
“Ahh.” She puts her hoof back down. “Uh, how fast can I move without breaking the… whats-it-called effect?” She lifts the hoof again, waving it slightly.
“Ground adhesive affect appears to remain in full force at all times, provided at least one hoof remains in contact with the walking surface.”
“Alright.” She starts walking to the door. Then she pauses to wipe the sweat off her forehead. She figures sweat probably comes with the fur- and doesn’t remember it being quite this hot last night.
Then her hoof comes into contact with something attached to her forehead, sending a spike of pain straight into the same.
She gasps, shifting her hoof- carefully- to rub her forehead… and tracing out the solid object. Which she then traces out from her forehead with the hoof. “Wha- What’s stuck to my forehead?”
The answer is immediate. Again. “Nothing.”
She scowls. “Then what is this?”
“Your horn.”
“My… Horn.”
“Affirmative. Direct thaumic manipulation through the horn, most commonly expressed in levitation, is an ability intrinsic to all known pony breeds in possession of horns; often labeled ‘magic’.”
She blinks. “So… In my transformation, I’ve not only gained a natural weapon in my tail, but a natural… do anything device sticking out of my forehead?”
“Affirmative. Thaumic manipulation is limited by the manipulator’s specific capacity.”
“... Ahh. And that would be?”
“No known metric applies to such capacities. Specific capacities of breeds in possession of both horns and wings are notably higher, on the order of three orders of magnitude, than that of breeds in possession only of horns.”
“... So, very, very high.”
“Affirmative. Your capacity is comparable to that of Princess Luna, the second-greatest on record.”
Blink. “Who has the greatest?”
“Princess Celestia.”
Another blink. “Uh, how many princesses do they have?”
“Four. Only two are aboard.”
“Ahh… Um, you mentioned some lockdown status earlier. What’s that mean?”
“This vessel is operating on Critical Overheat Lockdown. All noncritical systems are necessarily offline. Critical Overheat Lockdown was set upon reaching Critical Overheat status.”
“Okay. How long until we cool down?”
“Expected release of Critical Overheat Lockdown, twelve point seven nine days. Expected return to safe operating temperatures, one point three six months. Expected return to normal operating temperature, three point seven three months.”
“Rarity! Are you… Uh, I would assume that means you’re not.” Twilight lets out a sigh, before turning to the next pony on her list- Pinkie Pie… who is still in bed, sound asleep.
She lets out a groan and turns back, heading for the third room- the one with Applejack and the pegasi. When she gets there, though, she finds she’s not the first.
As the door opens, Princess Midnight looks up from where Applejack is ‘standing’ on the floor. She has to turn her head to look- but unless she misses her guess, it’s Twilight. She’s fairly certain she’s right, too; Twilight’s ship had very politely informed her- when she asked, of course- that Princess Twilight is the only pony not berthed in this room, other than herself, to be up and about. And that she can’t do anything for either of the two injured outside of this room- by informing her of the nature of the injuries. A minor concussion on Rarity’s part and a simple case of being knocked out for both of them.
While she doesn’t know of any cure for either of the above, she has had medical training- and the ship had, again very politely, confirmed that pony shoulders are comparable to the shoulders she used to have. So, she’d come straight here- and offered to help. Rainbow, the one-winged pegasus, had immediately jumped up to the ceiling to help Applejack down to the floor, where the… She’s not sure what they call the ponies with no wings.
Yes, it is Twilight. She bows her head. “Princess.”
Twilight stops in the doorway, walking in some kind of stunted manner, as if she was wearing magnetic boots. She blinks. “Uh, good morning, Princess Midnight. Um…” She looks at Applejack, who is shifting to grip the bedpost in her effort to avoid floating around the room. “Everypony okay?”
Applejack nods, swiftly hooking a hind leg under the bed so she could raise her foreleg for duty. “Yep. Turns out Princess Midnight knows how to take care of a dislocated shoulder.”
Rainbow glances up at Applejack. “But she can’t help a sprain, can she?”
She sighs, looking towards the pegasus. “I told you already, it’s just a sprain. Sure, it’ll hurt a lot, but as long as you let it rest, it’ll heal on its own.”
“Oh puh-lease, Doctor Horse could-”
She interrupts. “I’d bet he knew a healing spell,” she states.
Rainbow blinks. “You don’t?”
She raises an eyebrow. “Do I look like a doctor?”
Twilight’s turn. “Wait. You never learned the basic healing spell in Magic Kintergarten…?”
She shakes her head, taking the time to analyze the statement. “I didn’t grow up on your world,” she states. “My medical training is nonmagical in nature because magic isn’t taught on my world. A sprain is a sprain- you let it rest, it will heal. An anti-inflammatory can help, and perhaps a painkiller if it hurts too much- but we don’t have any drugs left, do we?” She glances up at the ceiling for the last couple words.
“All medications have been lost to Critical Overheat temperatures.”
She gives a sharp nod, turning back towards Rainbow. “So unless you happen to know a good healing spell, I can’t help with that.”
Rainbow blinks, then hangs her head.
“Oh, that’s- Arrgh!” Twilight breaks off mid-sentence with a pained yelp, multicolored sparks flying off of her horn.
She looks at the Princess. “Something wrong?”
Twilight shudders, recovering from something. “No… Just rediscovering what it feels like to have a broken horn.” She lets out a shaky sigh. “I know plenty of healing spells… but I can’t exactly demonstrate them…”
She sighs. “Perhaps Rarity might know one?” Scowl. “Though she has a concussion, and it’s not a good idea to play around with those.”
Twilight shudders. “Especially with magic. Concussions make it exponentially easier to lose control- so much that there’s only ever been one instance of a successful cast by a pony with a concussion.”
She raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything.
Rainbow speaks up. “Maybe Luna could help?”
Midnight shakes her head. “No, that’d be worse. Athena?”
“During the secondary impact with her bed, Princess Luna sustained a severe concussion, a cracked skull, and three sprained ligaments in her neck. She is expected to remain comatose for a minimum of eighteen hours.”
She nods. “And Rarity?”
“Rarity has sustained a minor concussion and been knocked cold. She is expected to awaken within ten minutes, but her concussion may last for up to three hours.”
Applejack looks at Rainbow. “Besides, I don’t think Luna knows any minor healing spells.”
Rainbow blinks. “Wha- What about major healing spells?”
Twilight answers first. “There is no known spell capable of restoring a lost limb,” she states- and eyeballs her horn. “Or a damaged horn… if there was, I would have fixed Tempest’s. As it is, I owe her an apology.” She shakes her head. “I was too dismissive of her pain.”
The ship cuts in suddenly. “Incoming transmission has requested direct communication with the captain of this vessel.”
“What?”
He lets out a sigh, trotting to his controller board. The night crew must have practiced absenteeism once again; he’s the second pony in the room, and also the second pony to enter it in the last thirty seconds. He glances at the other one, an Emergency Technician, provided on-staff because most spacecraft calling into the control station haven’t a clue how to keep their ships from blowing up- or cooking them alive. Her expertise has saved countless crews in the past.
“How’s it going?” He asks, as he trots towards his control panel. He’s one of the two controllers on this shift- and the other one called in late.
She sighs. “Well, no emergency signals broadcasted last night, and that’s probably a good thing, but we’re probably gonna wanna check any new craft anyways.” She sends him a grin. “You know how they are.”
“Lot of ‘em don’t know what an emergency even is, do they?” He shakes his head. “I still don’t know why they won’t let us issue and require licenses to fly spacecraft.”
She shakes her head as well. “Me neither. Anyways, you’re probably about to broadcast an IFF query- lemme know how it goes.”
“Uh, that’s an affirmative. It’s a royal pain, but it has to happen when nopony actually stays their shift to make sure no ships fly in unaccounted for.” He glowers briefly at the door before trotting up to his panel, taking his seat, and deploying his Hoof-Attached Natural Digit Systems. One on each foreleg, with five little metal fingers on each. He punches a few keys on the panel, broadcasting the named query- and instantly, the panel chimes the tone of an inbound IFF signal.
“That was fast,” she comments. “We seeing ourselves again?”
He reads his panel for a second. “Nope… it’s not familiar, either. Um… Not in the database, to boot. Wherever it came from, we’ve never seen that ship before.” The panel chimes again with the next IFF, but it takes him hardly a glance to associate the tag with a ship he’d logged as in orbit last night.
He focuses on the first one, the strange IFF, and reads the metadata- or at least, as much as his computers can understand of it. For some reason, there are entire segments of the IFF data that simply don’t make sense.
It’s… confusing, at best. He lets out a sigh, before slipping on his radio headset. She plugs her headset into his terminal as well, swiftly switching off her microphone feed before he punches in the general contact frequency and pushes the transmit key.
“Alright, uh, Alpha-Tango-Hotel-Echo-November-Alpha, this is Orbital Control, do you copy, over?”
The response is instant; their comms officer must be either bored or really on his game. “Starship Athena to Orbital Control, Copy that, Over.” Strike that- really on her game. Definitely female.
“Ahh, yes. I have you on radar, but I have no record of your arrival, over?”
“Affirmative. Confirmed negative Orbital Control response at time of arrival; requesting clearance for current orbital position zero-seven-bravo-three-one-charlie-four, over.”
“Uh, I don’t think we have an orbital position like that, over?”
“Requesting clearance for current orbital position- two-eight-three-niner miles above sea level, eastern equatorial on thirty degrees north by forty-seven east, offset eighteen point three minutes, over.”
“Uh…” He touches through his computers, finds the named orbit, and assigns it. “Yep, got that one. Clearance granted for orbital position described. Um, are there any undesirable circumstances aboard, over?”
“This vessel is currently operating under Critical Overheat Lockdown, over.”
Both he and his shift tech blink once before he strikes the key again. “Right then. May I speak with the chief engineer or the Captain, over?”
“Contacting the Captain, please hold.”
Now the two share odd looks. “That’s… interesting,” he states. “Almost like it’s not a real pony talking.”
She sighs, shaking her head. “I can only hope the Captain knows what she’s talking about,” she states.
He nods. “You and me both. You and me both.”
Then the radio transmission returns- a different voice. Could be a different ship, as well. “This is, uh, Twilight Sparkle, um, captain of the Starship Athena… somepony called?”
He blinks. This Captain Sparkle isn’t nearly as professional as her communications officer- but she has, at least, self-identified which ship she’s on. “Uh, yes,” he states. “We’d like to verify everything is going well up there. Your communications officer mentioned a Critical Overheat Lockdown?”
The silence is palpable, and seems to last forever, before Captain Sparkle comes back on. “Yes. How easy is that to fix?”
He glances at the tech- and gets a shrug in response. “We’ve never heard of it before. What symptoms are you experiencing?”
Another pause, though much smaller. “The ship is too hot? Um, how easy is it to cool down?”
He and the tech together let out a sigh. “It can be easy, or it can be very hard. Your ship is equipped with radiators and they are fully exposed and active, correct?”
Pause. “Yes.”
“The total sum of all heat being produced on the ship is then smaller than that being released by the radiators, correct?”
Another pause. “Yes?”
He and his tech nod simultaneously. “Then your heat problem will solve itself, given time. Is it, by any stretch of the imagination, dangerous to remain aboard?”
Almost no pause this time. “Yes. Much hotter and I’m pretty sure we’d be cooking alive.”
“Alright. What’s your internal temperature?”
Pause. “Average two hundred thirty eight thousand degrees, apparently. It’s only a hundred and thirty where we are.”
He stares at the panel for a second, before turning to the tech. “Wouldn’t a ship melt at that temperature?”
She nods. “Possibly vaporize, as well. They must have some new alloy and an impressive heat management system.”
He nods. “Yes.” Then he pushes the radio button again. “Uh- just to confirm, all your radiators are wide open and active?”
Pause. “Except the one that broke during, uh, ‘thermonuclear cookoff’, yes.”
He practically screams into the mic. “You’ve had thermonuclear weapons cookoff!?!?”
“Yes.”
“How many more do you have on board?”
Long pause. “Almost forty thousand across ninety-nine magazines… um, they should be fine, as long as the thermal distribution grid doesn’t fail again.”
“Alright, but by the safety regs, we’re going to have to insist on either abandoning ship until it returns to safe temperatures or a full jettison of all nuclear warheads. Will you require assistance?”
Another long pause. “So, we’re allowed to descend? Not with the whole ship, but…?”
He nods. “Yes, you are allowed to return to the surface. We’ll just need to clear any flight paths first.”
Pause. “Thank you. Um, yes, we’ll need assistance… I guess all our small craft have melted.” She sounds mildly terrified.
“Right then. What’s your skin temperature?”
“Anywhere between four hundred thousand and one point two million degrees.”
“That’ll vaporize any ship that touches it,” his tech mutters.
He nods, and pushes the button. “Roger that. We won’t be able to perform any standard docking maneuvers, for safety concerns- do you have any exosuits, er, remaining aboard?”
Another long pause. “Not exactly, but we have the breathing-in-space problem solved for, uh, fifteen minutes or so of, um, ‘extra-vehicular activity’?”
He sighs. “Alright then. How many do you have aboard?”
“Eight.”
He touches up some keys. “Alright. I can have the rescue craft pull as close as six miles for an extravehicular switch- is that workable?”
“Sure, we can do that!”
“Roger that.” He releases the key again, and starts punching for the duty rescue craft. “I wonder exactly how she plans on pulling extravehicular activity without an exosuit,” he muses.
The engineer snorts. “She’ll probably forget to leave the door open, too- and have to cut the thing open.”
He shakes his head. “Wouldn’t be the first time, either. This thing is huge, though- it’s gotta cost a fortune to fly.” He shudders. “I wonder how long it’s gonna take to cool down.”
“How huge?”
He glances at the radar readout. “Uh, about ten miles long.”
“I wonder if they have their own fuel manufacturing plant onboard,” she muses. “Even if it’s a pencilship, that’s going to take an enormous amount of fuel to move.” Then she snorts. “I really hope she’s got a stable orbit, too. I’d hate to have that thing hit the atmosphere. Especially at that temperature.”
Twilight looks at the pegasus. “Bubble thing?” They’d just performed that- what did he call it, ‘extravehicular switch’? Luna’s bubble shield had lasted about as long as they expected- that is, the air in it had. She could probably have maintained the shield itself for much longer, had that not been an issue. They’d made it all the way out, thanks to what Athena called a ‘high-speed ejection’ involving very fast motions of the doors. She’d missed exactly what had happened, but hasn’t had the opportunity to ask the ship to explain it.
The… very hot ship. She hopes she hasn’t destroyed it- and that it remembers their path.
The strange pegasus, one of the crew of the ship that came for them, nods. “Yes. It looked like you were in a giant bubble of some sort on the way over here; where’d it go?”
Twilight stares at her for a few seconds. “Where’d it go…?” she parrots slowly.
The pegasus sighs. “Nevermind. Is everypony okay?”
Her question is met by a round of nods.
She blinks. “Soo, the injuries I see are…?”
“Old injuries, yes,” Twilight states, and shudders, glancing at the tip of her horn. “Whatever you do, do not overheat a Distortion Drive.”
Blink. “Wait, what? You had a Distortion Drive? I thought those were still in the early testing stages- and liable to destroy the entire ship.”
Twilight blinks. “Uh, maybe? I mean, it got us to Princess Midnight’s world…” She looks at the named princess, who raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.
“Is it still working?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think so- we did trigger the emergency shutdown.”
Blink. “Do you have the blueprints?”
“Maybe?”
She offers a level-lidded look.
She sighs. “We don’t have them with us, but the Athena might remember them.”
Blink. “That’s your ship, right?”
Nod.
“I take it you’re not the engineer.”
Blink. “No, but I’d love to learn.”
Another sigh. “I’m also gonna guess you’re not from Earth.”
Blink. “Uh, no, we’re from Equus.” She glances at Midnight. “Never found out what her world was called.”
“A headache,” Princess Midnight states. “That world had a ninety-seven syllable name. Everyo- pony just called it ‘the world’.”
The pegasus blinks some more. “Wait. You mean I’m in the presence of actual aliens from outer space, and you look just like ponies?”
Twilight blinks. “We are ponies.”
Midnight nods. “Yes, I believe so.” She chuckles, an amused smile spreading across her face. “I’m also pretty sure I’m the only one with any experience meeting extraterrestrials.”
The pegasus’ eyes sparkle. “Really? Can I ask who you met, how it went?”
She shakes her head. “Another very long name. Some two hundred syllables, if I remember right- I never learned it. We just called them, ‘them’.” She sighs. “They destroyed my world, killed my people. It’s thanks only to Princess Twilight and her ship that there are any survivors at all.”
The sparkle leaves her eyes while her excited smile fades to nothing. “Oh… I’m sorry. Um…” She smiles apologetically, before turning back towards Twilight. “Anyways, um… I notice you don’t have hands.”
Twilight blinks. “Hands?” she asks.
Midnight smiles. “Why would we?” she asks.
She blinks. “You don’t know? Oh. Um, it’s an acronym, for Hoof-Attached Natural Digit Systems…” She holds up one foreleg, showing off the metal device attached to it- including extending the fingers to demonstrate the gripping action. “That’s this thing. You do have something similar, right?”
Twilight blinks. “Why would we?”
“Uh, to grab something? Maybe use the controls?”
Twilight tilts her head. “Why wouldn’t we just… well, grab it?”
She offers another level-lidded look. “You’re telling me you can just grab it with the flat surface of your hoof and magic?”
Nod.
“Really?”
Twilight tilts her head. “Yes. That’s how the hoofgrip works.”
“Magic.”
“Yes.”
“We don’t have it.”
“You don’t?”
She shakes her head. “It doesn’t exist here. You’re going to want to hide it from the public, unless you want to be mobbed.”
Blink. “I don’t suppose that means we can’t fly, does it?”
She shakes her head. “We can’t fly- if you can, you won’t want to.”
Two weeks pass. Princess Midnight, while she has damaged doors or floors on occasion, seems to have adjusted to the no-magic restriction the fastest. And these strange ‘hands’ things the local ponies gave them. Almost like she’d already been adjusted, as a matter of fact- she just… lived. Which, Twilight has to agree, if magic wasn’t part of her education, she would be like that.
The rest of her crew has had difficulty- including herself. Multiple times, she’s had to pretend the hornache from trying to use magic is a migraine of some sort. Pinkie had basically glued herself to Midnight’s side, and adapted very quickly; Applejack was the second-fastest to adjust.
Rarity never removed her cloak. The local’s medical science, apparently, wasn’t enough to heal the damage. The unicorn still hasn’t adjusted fully; she’s been hiding out in the space center they’d been taken down to, trying to get the hang of using the ‘hands’ things instead of her horn.
Rainbow fell down a few times, but has managed to adjust. Fluttershy… She simply put on the ‘hands’ and headed outside, like adjustment wasn’t even an issue. A rumor has sprung up of a pegasus that could fly, but that’s about it.
Right now, Twilight is in the control room with Chief Emergency Engineer Cold Coils. She’s been studying the engineering thing- and, to the chief engineer’s surprise, she’s already ready for field training.
That is to say, ready to be in the control room with a regular engineer during some operations. And, even, to help with them.
She glances to the sides as she walks in, duplicating the older engineer’s immediately prior motion. The room is empty.
Cold Coils lets out a sigh. “Looks just like it did when you appeared,” she states. “Night crew didn’t bother to stick around. I wonder how many fresh disasters are going unchecked up there.” She glances at the ceiling.
Twilight also glances up, and looks at the controls. “None quite like ours, I hope.”
The pegasus lets out a snort of laughter. “You’d be surprised. Sure, yours is the biggest ship we’ve ever seen, and we’ve never had one survive nuclear weapons cookoff before, but overheating is the most common problem we have.” Sigh. “And they still won’t let us issue or require pilot’s licenses. Did you know, I had a ship just last night- a private vessel- with a foal at the helm and the parents sleeping in the back?”
Twilight blinks. “How bad was it?”
Sigh. “At least the aforementioned foal understood the controls enough to get the thing into a semistable orbit before I made her go get her parents. Had to displace a few other ships- and she did get somewhat dangerously close to yours in the process, creating a heat problem. Nothing we couldn’t handle, but still.” She shakes her head. “Had I been able to get that poor filly safely off the ship, I would have left it on its original course. It was going to fly straight through a couple of the radiator zones on your ship- and as I’m sure you know, even our heat-shielded probes melt there in seconds.”
“Wow. They probably would have been vaporized… Very fast way to die.”
“Probably painless, too. We’ve got legal action against them instead, but they’ll probably get away with it; she did know how to fly the ship. Oh- and it looks like the first controller is here. Good morning, Swift Orbit!”
The unicorn entering the room pauses in the door. “Good morning, Cold Coils, and…?” He looks at the alicorn.
She blinks. “Uh, I’m Twilight Sparkle. Good morning!”
He raises an eyebrow. “Twilight Sparkle? Like Captain Twilight?”
A couple more blinks. “Uh, yes? I think?”
Cold Coils lets out a chuckle. “Yes, that’s her. Twilight, this is Flight Controller Swift Orbit, the one that reached out to you shortly after your arrival in-system.” She glances at the closed door behind him. “And the only dayshift flight controller that seems to understand the importance of punctuality.”
He snorts. “Low Trajectory called off today. I’m the only one.” He trots towards his control panel. “No nightshift again?”
The pegasus nods. “Yep. No emergencies, too.” She sighs. “And on the busiest night of the year, as well.”
He groans, deploying his ‘hands’ and punching at the keys. “Don’t forget, it’s also the eave of the busiest day of the year. Let’s find out how badly things have broken.”
Twilight blinks. “Maybe Athena could help?”
He glances up at her. “Athena? That’s your ship, right?”
She nods. “Yes. She’s also very helpful.”
“Even though nopony is aboard?”
Nod.
“I’ll… let you handle that.” He waves at the other controller station. “Frequency oh-niner-three-seven-two. You do know how to do that, right?”
Cold Coils nods. “Yep. She’s a very quick study- I made her study up on the traffic controllers as well before today’s visit.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Might be handy. Well, give it a shot- see how responsive a large hunk of overheated alloy can be.” He glances at the control station. “At least, I assume it’s alloy. I don’t think any pure metal could tolerate the temperatures you named.”
Cold Coils snorts. “Nor any alloy we know of, as a matter of fact. Anyways, Captain Twilight, we’re wasting time. To the radio!”
“Right, yes! Um…” She trots towards the panel, glancing over the buttons. She reaches out with her magic, to punch in the frequency- “Arrggh!”- and cringes in pain. She’d forgotten about her horn… again.
“You alright?” Cold Coils asks. She can tell that Swift Orbit was asking the same thing- he cut off in the middle, though, being a fraction of a second later than Cold.
She waves it off with a hoof. “It’s just my horn,” she mutters, reaching up to feel the jagged break once again.
Swift shudders visibly. “I… I wish I could do something about it. They’re pretty useless, but even attempting to break or remove them is considered inequine torture because it hurts so much, for so long. I’m sorry.”
She shudders. “No, it’s… It’s alright. I once knew a unicorn whose horn was broken in a monster attack… Took her a few years to recover, but she managed to cope.” She eyes the jagged tip of her horn. “I’ll manage.” Then she looks down at the control panel, remembering to use her ‘hands’ instead of her hooves in the knick of time.
Moments later, while she punches up the named frequency, she sees his general IFF request go out- with the very first response coming in almost instantly from her ship, the Athena. She’s not surprised, given what the ship has shown itself capable of.
At his panel, he chuckles. “You know, I probably should have expected that. A ship that large and expensive won’t have spared many expenses. I should have expected you’d have an automatic IFF responder on it.”
“Huh?”
He shrugs. “Nopony bothers. They’re expensive and labor-intensive to install, for a very, very small reduction in comms workloads- and, though spacecraft pilots never feel it themselves, a massive reduction in IFF query wait time.”
She blinks. “Huh. Alright then…” She pushes her button. “Orbital Control to Alpha-Tango-Hotel-Echo-November-Alpha, do you copy, over?”
The response is instant. “Starship Athena to Orbital Control, Copy that, over.”
“Wait,” Swift blinks. “Did an empty ship just respond verbally?”
She nods, and punches the button again. “Alright. Do you have records of what happened overnight, over?”
“Controlled information cannot be sent over an insecure channel, over.”
He blinks. “I suppose that makes sense. These things aren’t capable of secured channels, though.” He shudders. “Those things take enormous amounts of processing power, are intermittent, and tend to be unreliable.”
She scowls at the control panel. “Huh… Well, maybe she can help.” She punches the button. “Can you secure the channel, over?”
Silence reins for two seconds.
“She won’t be able to,” Swift states.
Cold Coils raises an eyebrow at him. “Honestly,” she states, “with what we’ve seen of that ship, I wouldn’t be surprised if it could at least try.” She lets out a chuckle. “Makes me curious how.”
Then the control panel blinks. Every light, every screen, everything goes out for a half-second, before coming back on again at exactly the same screen as it had before.
“What the-?” Cold Coils asks, and looks towards Swift. “Did we just experience a power fluctuation?”
He scowls. “Nope. I got an idiot ranting about fuel prices right now, and he wasn’t interrupted.”
“Secure connection established. Confirm Captain’s Request: Release external sensor data from the previous eighteen point three hours to Orbital Control?”
The control room goes completely silent, save the constant squawking of Swift’s headset.
“Uh, what?” Cold asks.
“Um, yes,” Twilight states, without touching the button.
Thirty seconds later, the big screen on the wall is displaying a live-updating view of the traffic all around the planet, fed directly by that secure connection. The control room has also become a little bit of a disaster- there’s almost thirty ships overheating, and over six hundred in… problematic positions.
“No, you are not in trouble, but your current orbit will destroy your ship. Maneuver carefully, and keep your eyes open.” It’s Swift Orbit, talking to some spacer on an orbit set to run him through one of the Athena’s radiator zones. He releases the button, hits the channel switch, and depresses it again. He’s holding two conversations at once, one in each ear. “Yes ma’am, I need you to move. You’re on a direct collision course with an unmanned vessel. I have a clear orbit for you- in about forty seconds, I need you to divert ten degrees to the south.” He releases the button again, glancing up at the screen before punching in a third channel code. “Any chance your ship could help us out, Twilight?” He depresses the button, channel entered. “Orbital Control to Echo-Alpha-Seven-Three-Echo-Charlie, do you copy, over?”
Twilight blinks, having just guided one single ship into a safe orbit. On Swift’s request, she’s helping with the control operations rather than the emergency ops; Cold Coils is handling those, and targeting the hottest vessels first. Rather helpful Athena’s sensors can see straight through their various heat shields to read even internal temperatures- and that nopony is at truly dangerous temperatures, yet. “True. Athena?”
“Confirm and Authorize Orbital Control’s request for assistance in traffic control operations?”
She blinks. “Uh, yes.”
“Request and authorization confirmed. Activating directional comm relays. Requesting specification of minimum six hundred thirty-seven non-reserved orbital positions.”
“Uh, can we just send her the database?” Swift asks. “All of our orbits are reserved for different classes of vessels.”
“Confirm authorization to upload Orbital Regulations Database?”
Twilight blinks. “Uh…”
“Say yes,” he states.
“Authorization confirmed. Upload complete. Establishing two hundred eighty-three communications channels.” At the same time, numerous lines appear over the map on the wall, with little dots of various colors sliding along them… with associated orbital codes.
Twilight looks just a little longer than the other two, before letting out a small gasp. “Oh! The lines are orbits, the red dots filled positions, and the green ones empty!
Swift glances at the screen. “What about the orange?”
“Looks like they’re partly filled.”
A slowly pulsing blue line appears on the map, connecting a symbol representing a ship to a green dot- which turns orange at the same time.
Up in space, the represented ship lights their engines to move to the orbit that, as far as they know, Orbital Control has just assigned them. Rather nice how very little fuel it’ll cost to achieve that orbit- Orbital Control is not known for fuel-efficient orbit designations.
Ten minutes pass, and a good three quarters of the rogue ships have little blue lines connecting them to orange or red orbital slots very close to their prior orbits. During that time, some seven new ships also arrived, made contact, and were assigned orbits- orbits that, as near as Twilight can tell, required only minimal fuel to attain.
Twilight has her eye on a flight of almost two dozen little tiny ships on approach to the planet. They’ve already passed the regulation contact distance without calling in for orbital insertion or even to get clearance for a fly-by. They haven’t reached the mandatory contact distance yet, though.
Swift Orbit has been fairly idle; Athena is easily outperforming a hundred controllers, guiding even the most confused of starship captains through their maneuvers- and, unless she misses her guess, even taking their apparent familiarity with their ship into account with the orbit designations! Twilight and Cold Coils have been busier, working with the various starship captains- and, occasionally, engineers- to help them regulate their ships’ temperatures properly. By now, though, they’ve managed to stabilize the situation, and are freshly idle as well.
Then the call comes in. Athena very quickly flags it as a priority transmission, routing it directly to Swift Orbit; she has been absorbing most of the traffic control calls, as there are simply too many going around right now for any one pony to even hear them all, let alone understand or keep track of them. And responding? Not a chance.
The voice sounds young. Like, really young, when Swift Orbit allows it to play. Cold Coils narrows her eyes.
“Um, Short Flight to Orbital Control, um, do you copy, er, over?”
Twilight tilts her head, glancing at her panel- half of which has been dominated by a constant readout of Athena’s control operations. “That’s priority?” she asks.
The answer is instant. “Transmission comes from a vessel already residing within an assigned orbit; vessel has self-identified with insufficient fuel for departure and has not taken any aboard; vessel is in not in possession of any small craft.”
“That’s her,” Cold Coils mutters. “That’s the filly from last night.”
Swift Orbit raises his eyebrow, and depresses the key to respond. “Orbital control to Short Flight, we copy, over.” He releases it, and glances back at Cold Coils. “Filly?” he asks.
She nods. “Self-identified, eight years old.”
Twilight blinks- but before she can speak, the response comes back.
“Okay, um… I’m supposed to guide the fleet in… Can I get some help?”
“The fleet?” he asks, then depresses the button. “Absolutely. What is the composition, position, and intent of the fleet?”
“She’s as old as the Crusaders,” Twilight utters. “This can only end in a disaster.”
The response comes back. “Um… I don’t know what composition is… they’re forty k-clicks out, thirty-seven by forteen off from the solar heading.” A dot appears on the big map, labeled ‘The Fleet’... right in the middle of the flight that hasn’t called in yet. It almost instantly expands to indicate the flight. “Um… what was that last one?”
He sighs, and depresses the button. “Roger that, I have the fleet on long-range radar. Do you know how many of what sizes of ships are in the fleet?”
“They didn’t tell me.”
“That’s going to make it harder… Do you know their intent?”
“Um… No… um… wait. They want me to, let’s see… ‘guide the cruisers to the defensive nodes and the destroyers to the control nodes’... is that okay?”
They simply stare at the control panel.
Silence holds for almost three seconds, before Athena’s voice comes on the line. “To confirm- The Fleet consists of two ship types with two goals: The cruisers, to gather around the planetary defense nodes, and the destroyers, to gather around the communications relays?”
“Uh… yes.”
The response is instant. “Do you know what they intend to do after gathering at these locations?”
“No… My parents said something about destruction… They won’t wake up right now, I tried. I think it’s the… al-co-hol they won’t let me try.” A momentary pause, but she doesn’t stop transmitting. “I don’t think I want it if it puts ponies to sleep… Wait. Was that a rada-” The transmission cuts off abruptly.
Athena immediately starts talking. Her voice sounds slightly different, making it somehow clear she’s not transmitting it to Short Flight. “Situation confirmed. Short Flight is the only active crewmember aboard a class five stealthed military sensor boat; incoming fleet composition is eighteen dreadnoughts, ninety-seven cruisers, one hundred thirty-one destroyers, and eight hundred small fighter craft, all under stealth. Stealth is imperfect; the dreadnoughts have been detected as fighter-size craft to this point. Short Flight has named the approaching force as hostile. This vessel is not a likely target, given available information; Orbital Control Central is.”
Nopony moves, or says anything, staring open-mouthed at the controls.
Short Flight then comes back on. “Sorry about that, thought I saw something… can you help with that?”
Athena’s response comes back instantly- and as it does, lots more dots start appearing on the map, surrounding the planet. “Affirmative. We will need beta-four level access to your vessel, though.”
Twilight and Swift Orbit both blink, but Cold Coils baulks. “Beta four?” she asks. “That’s… That’s complete remote control access.” She glances down at the other two. “They don’t tell us controllers or engineers- but I used to build starships. Beta four allows complete remote control, and the onboard crew can’t stop it once allowed.”
Short Flight comes back on. “That was… Oh. Um, they said never to allow that, that the ship would be destroyed…”
“Your vessel will not be harmed,” Athena states immediately. “As a direct communication from us might convince the Fleet you are avoiding your duties, we intend to use your ship as a relay. This will allow us to guide the Fleet in safely and smoothly- and leave the praise with you.”
“Huh? … Oh, that makes sense. So, beta four only lets you use us as a communications relay?”
“Affirmative. We’ll send the request in a few seconds; when you accept it, your control screens may flicker momentarily. This is normal.”
“Ahh, okay.”
“Alright. Sending the request now.”
“There it is! And… accepted. U--- Wow, you were right. They did flicker.”
Cold Coils breaks the silence in the control room. “That… That worked. I don’t believe it.”
“Affirmative,” Athena states, to them. “Beta Four access acquired; secure connection established, systems overridden. Database downloaded, analyzing now. Approaching fleet confirmed hostile.”
“And completely legally, to boot,” Swift Orbit mutters- before glancing at Cold Coils. “Beta Four is legal, right?”
She only nods.
Then Athena comes on the transmission once again, while lines start drawing themselves across the map, indicating her planned courses for the various vessels in the inbound fleet. “Thank you. We’ll be initiating contact with the Fleet in just a few seconds.”
“Wait,” Twilight mutters, looking at the screen. “That’s not where they wanted to go, is it?”
Athena’s response comes back instantly. “Correct. Approaching fleet is not aware of local defense or communications node locations; various unmanned craft have been selected to serve as decoys for such; relay access has been acquired on all decoy craft. Orbital Control operations will switch to decoy relay network in thirty seconds. All decoys are in isolated orbits with clear fire lanes from the real defensive nodes. Requesting Beta-Three access to system defense nodes; requesting authorization to use lethal force against the approaching enemy.”
All three ponies blink. A prompt appears on Swift Orbit’s control panel- the access request.
Swift orbit looks at the panel, then back at Cold Coils. “What was Beta Three, again?”
She blinks. “Beta Three? That’s full remote control, with the option for local override. She’ll have full control of the defense nodes, but we can take it back at any time.”
He nods. “Alright then, authorization granted.” He punches a key, and the prompt disappears.
Twilight blinks. “Uh… yes, I suppose.” She looks up towards the ceiling. “Try not to kill anypony you don’t have to, okay?”
“Beta Three access acquired; secure connections established. Orders confirmed; defensive fire authorized on condition: Aim to disable, allow surrender.”
Then the voice changes again- onto the transmission. “Orbital Control to Short Flight, do you copy, over?”
The response is instant. “Huh? Um… Short Flight to Orbital Control, um, I copy, over?”
Athena again. “We have established contact with the Fleet. Your vessel is well within their expected firing lanes, but the Fleet has requested you maintain your existing orbit, for ease in communication. Would you prefer to temporarily vacate your vessel, for your safety? We can relay any transmissions you make through it as well.”
“Huh? But what about my parents? Won’t they find out?”
“Negative. They are not likely to awaken for several hours yet; if your vessel survives the coming action, we can safely return you aboard before they awaken.”
“Okay! Um… How should I vacate, and where to?”
“Your vessel is equipped with an escape pod, correct?”
“Uh, yes. I’m a unicorn, though, so it’s not exactly comfortable…”
“Roger. You see that big ship on sensors, correct? The Starship Athena?”
“Big ship…? Um… Oh, do you mean the ship that dwarfs supercarriers?”
“Affirmative.”
“Uh… isn’t it a bit hot…?”
“Negative. Starship Athena has recently recovered from an overheat status, and interior temperatures are acceptable at this time. We will be using her as a transfer location to a ground-based shuttle for transit to the surface; should the shuttle approach your craft, the Fleet- or other nearby vessels- may notice and fire upon it.”
“Right. Um, tell me what to do.”
“Time your launch for zero-seven-thirty-six and eighteen seconds, by your shipboard clock; remain braced for sudden acceleration even after the escape burn ends, until the pod lands aboard the Starship Athena. We will handle the docking process; Starship Athena is equipped with the necessary technology.” The voice changes- off the transmission. “Requesting permission to acquire control of an empty, sealed-cockpit surface-to-space shuttle for use in transferring Short Flight to the surface.”
She tip-hooves past her parents’ room. She’d lied about them being out drunk- and about Beta Four. She’s not sure what it is- just that her parents had never mentioned it, and she hadn’t seen anything about it when they’d made her read the ship’s instruction manual. She’s fairly sure it does more than allow Orbital Control to use her as a comms relay; that’s Charlie One.
In any case, she slips carefully into the escape pod. They’re supposed to be out cold right now; she did drug their dinner today, and she’s not sure if she used the right amount. She locks the door carefully, watching the clock. Orbital Command had been very specific about when she should launch- and if her sensors were telling the truth, for very good reason. This ‘Starship Athena’ she’s meeting is on a perpendicular orbit. She… She hopes their ‘sudden acceleration’ isn’t impact acceleration.
She watches the clock. Sero seven thirty six and zero… One… Two.
She arms the escape pod at three. It’ll take exactly fifteen seconds to arm- and up until the moment she launches it, her parents will still be able to abort the launch, should they wake up and make their way to the control panel.
The pod is also more than a little noisy in its arming sequence.
She listens to the various clunks, banks, and clanks as it arms- then the hatch finally opens. She glances at the clock- it took about thirteen seconds to arm, not the fifteen it normally does. Whatever.
As it hits eighteen seconds, she hits the launch key, blasting herself free of the ship. She watches out the front window as she accelerates. Hopefully, her parents won’t shoot at her. Her ship isn’t a regular warship- but it is armed nonetheless. Not enough to even begin to threaten a warship, but enough to shred unarmored escape pods by the dozen.
Her pod’s little engine runs dry. She doesn’t move, instead looking sideways… Ahh, that must be the Athena. It’s… Her sensors never gave her an idea of exactly how huge it is. Sure, they offered general numbers, but…
She’s lived in cities that were smaller.
Though… She squints at it. She’ll be passing way behind it… and, unless she misses her guess, be nowhere near it the next time her orbit crosses its.
Then everything changes. She spots a sudden sparkle on the red-hot ship- and, at the same time, her pod lurches, throwing her against the wall. She was still braced, as instructed, so she wasn’t hurt- but the sideways acceleration had been unexpected. She looks out both the side windows but, as near as she can tell, there is nothing touching her pod.
Some time has passed. She doesn’t know how much; the electronics were not designed for sudden, lateral accelerations, so the power cell came loose. She’s reseated it, but the clock has stopped running. As near as she can tell, she’s still at orbital velocity, at least- so she won’t be plummeting to her death on the planet’s surface. Her pod is not designed for that- a cost-cutting measure her parents had imposed on the fleet.
She has made a curved trajectory, thanks to that unending sideways force, even as her pod rotated slowly in space. She’s now approximately joined the Starship Athena in orbit, overtaking slowly- with her sideways velocity dying out rapidly.
Then the force changes very suddenly, accelerating her pod forwards instead of sideways… then, after a few seconds, it stops altogether.
She watches as her pod overtakes the ginormous ship. She’s experiencing microgravity- but she’s keeping herself braced, in case that strange acceleration comes back.
It does, eventually. Only after a little tiny white rectangle on the side of the Athena appeared, while she’s up alongside. It’s not as strong- and it’s mostly pusing her towards that rectangle.
Somewhere along the way, it flips to go the other way.
Oh. As it turns out, that rectangle was a door. A very large bay door, big enough to fit her entire ship inside. The strange force goes down to almost nothing as she drifts in the door. There’s something spinning in the back, on the wall.
She crashes to the floor as her pod crosses the threshhold, then rises to her hooves, staring out the window. This thing has gravity in it? But- but that’s impossible! The door eventually closes behind her pod and, rubbing her forehead next to her horn in an attempt to ward off the building headache, she waits for the external pressure readings to reach safely breathable ranges before opening the door. The big yellow and green lights in the corners did help with that.
The headache steps up a notch. “Woah,” she mutters. “What is going on?”
Nopony answers.
She lets out a sigh, stepping into her open hatchway, and looking to the sides. “In any case, if they’re sending a shuttle up, I’m going to want to get out of the bay before it arrives.” She hops down to the bigger ship’s decking.
She thinks she heard somepony talking during that short drop, but if they were, they were instantly blotted out by the headache. It practically explodes through her head, blasting throughout her form… then it’s gone. She stumbles on the decking, catches herself, and looks around. “What the hay just happened…? Anyways, door. Don’t want to be explosively decompressed.” She turns and gallops to the door out of the bay, which slides open before she reaches it. She’s met by a wave of heat- but it’s nothing unmanageable. She stops in the passage, looking both ways. “Um, hello? Anypony there?”
No response.
She looks back at the bay. “Do I wait here, or… Wait a minute.” She looks down at her back.
“Affirmative.”
She lets out a yelp, positively jumping into the air as she searches for the speaker. She lands back down just as quickly as she went up. “Wha- Who’s there? Where are you?”
No response.
She forces herself to calm down. “Who spoke?”
Nothing.
Sigh, before she turns back to her back. “Musta been imagining things. How…?” She lifts one hoof to touch the anomaly.
It’s… a wing. A feathered wing, just like a pegasus.
But she’s a unicorn. She checks the other side. Yep, there’s one there too.
She touches it. She can feel it. She pulls it out, feels the muscles. She repeats on the other side- and tries flapping them. The pegasi she’s known could produce a decent breeze that way- like their own, personal fan.
She lands on her back, on the hot decking. Speaking of which, it is getting hot in here again. Again, nothing unmanageable. She scrambles upright again, reaching up to touch her horn- yep, still there. Just as she knew it would be, too; she can still feel it on her forehead.
The door to the bay closes. She glances up at it, then looks out the windows in the passage, back into the bay. The green lights have turned yellow again… Oh, it must be depressurizing. The shuttle must be coming. She looks back at her wings, and flutters them carefully. Then a little stronger. And a little stronger.
Then she falls on her side.
Which hurts. Her wing was fully extended- so it just pointed ‘up’ to her. Not something she can’t do herself, but it hurt to push it there like that. She scrambles back upright, stretches out the muscles, and tries again. Somewhere in between those last two efforts.
By the time the shuttle is performing an engine-less landing in the bay, she’s floating an inch or so above the ground, legs spread wide, and wobbling constantly while she tries to stabilize herself. By the time the bay is fully pressurized again, she’s started hovering pretty reliably- but drops back to the decking. Pegasi can’t fly, and she’s pretty sure her wings aren’t any bigger than theirs, so whatever caused this new ability, she’s pretty sure showing it off would be a bad idea. She trots out the once again open door to the shuttle… The empty shuttle, as near as she can tell, though the cockpit door is sealed tight. She takes a seat in the front of the passenger bay and buckles herself in. “Okay, ready.”
The door closes.
This journey is fairly typical, she decides, as the shuttle descends smoothly into the atmosphere and travels to wherever it’s headed.
But she’s free. She’s escaped her parents- and if she can hide effectively, she can stay escaped.
Oh. Also if those defensive nodes are anywhere near as effective as she hopes they are. That’s one of the main reasons she’d “accidentally” called on Traffic Control to assist in the coordination of an attack on the same.
She’d been disappointed, at first, by their apparent cooperation. Especially after they got that other controller on the line; she was so cooperative she could swear she was actually going to help guide the attack!
Then she had asked for Beta Four. Her computer had given her a warning on the prompt, but she hadn’t understood the code- and all it said otherwise was “Beta Four Authorization”.
Hopefully, this other controller is a really good actor- and cooperating with the local defence force. Which, if the intel was correct, is mostly automated, anyways.
The shuttle lands. She hops right out of her seat- then pauses, looking back at the seat, watching the seatbelt retract on its springs. She’s pretty sure those things don’t normally unlatch themselves- and that she hadn’t reached down to release it. She does tend to miss that step.
But whatever. She trots out to the opening door, waits for the stairs to unfold, and walks slowly down them, looking around the landing apron. This isn’t her home docks, so nopony will offer her any extra reverence- and she has to be careful.
It would seem somepony is watching out for her anyways. An earth pony approaches, pausing short of the staircase. “Short Flight?” he asks.
She blinks. “Uh, yes, that’s me.”
“Right then. Follow me.”
She nods, and follows.
Up until he sends her through a door without him, that is. She steps through it.
Oh, hey. She’s not the only pony on the planet with both wings and horn! … This one’s purple, though, and its- her, she thinks- horn looks to be damaged.
She wonders mildly if this purple one can fly as well.
The pegasus in the room notices her first. “Well hello. Who would you be?”
She blinks, tearing her eyes away from their surveyance of the room. “Um, Short Flight, Ma’am.”
The purple one trots over. “I thought you said you were a unicorn…”
She hangs her head. “I was…” She glances back at her wings. “They just appeared when I got out of the escape pod.” She blinks. “What do you call a pony with both…?”
“Alicorn. Um, you don’t happen to be a princess, do you?”
She drops her jaw. “How… How’d you guess?”
Sigh. “Ascension does tend to happen to princesses more often than not.”
Blink. “Then…”
Sigh. “Yes, I am. Princess Twilight Sparkle, of Equestria. If we ever get back there.”
Blink. “Wait. Did you just say Equestria?”
Twilight blinks. “Uh, yes?”
“Like, the Equestria, where ponies can… Can do stuff, without these bothersome hands?”
“You’ve heard of it?”
She averts her gaze. “Not… Not really. The… fleet. They’re from a micronation formed almost two hundred years ago, where every pony- citizen and official alike- is dedicated to finding the magical land of Equestria.” She sighs. “The way I hear it, a scout on the surface here heard a rumor about a pegasus that could fly… So they’re attacking. I think the plan was to drop a bunch of troops down here to find out if the rumor was true and, if so, find out how they gained that ability.” She blinks, and almost glances back at her own wings. “Um… Does it- the rumor, that is- have anything to do with that giant ship?”
A soft female voice breaks in from nowhere- sounds like that second controller did, but this is the control room and it’s coming from the speakers. “Fleet vessels acquired, secure connections. Downloading databanks.”
“Awesome!” The unicorn states. “Can we keep them from shooting?”
Whoever it is speaks up again. “All hostile action has been neutralized. The Fleet has not been made aware at this time.”
“Nice,” Twilight states, at the ceiling, before looking down. “Sorry, um… Right. Um…” She glances at the other two ponies in the room. “It might,” she relents.
She blinks, then excitedly jumps into the air, flapping her wings to stay aloft. “Really? I’m not the only one?”
Twilight blinks. “Not the only one… what? To be a bit clumsy… Oh.” She looks at the other two ponies in the room, both of which are staring. “Right. On this world, pegasi can’t fly.” She looks back at her. “Um, no, you’re not the only one. I can fly, Fluttershy can fly, and back when Rainbow had both her wings, she could actually fly faster than sound itself.” Grin. “Now that was a rare case of noise being beneficial to research.”
She drops back to the ground, blinking. “Oops…”
Twilight shrugs. “No, we’re fine.” She looks to the other two ponies. “We’re not going to go crazy in here or go telling everypony on the street, right?”
The pegasus and the unicorn both blink in sequence, before shaking their heads.
“No, most certainly not,” the pegasus states. “Though I do wonder, if she got wings and the ability to fly by stepping aboard your ship…”
Twilight blinks. “True…” She looks at the ceiling. “Um, Athena?”
“Simulations suggest local ponies will adapt to shipboard thaumic levels immediately upon physical contact, or gradually on atmospheric contact; simulations suggest such adaptation will consist of the addition of standard Equestrian thaumic capabilities.”
The pegasus blinks. “Uh… Meaning?”
“Meaning,” Twilight states slowly, “she thinks you would gain the normal pegasus magics.”
An eyebrow raised.
Nod. Twilight jumps into the air. “There’s the obvious one, flight- but there’s also the hoofgrip…” She removes one of her hands, holding it with the flat of her other hoof.
Short Flight looks quickly down at her own hooves, and back up again.
Twilight puts the hand back on, dropping back to the ground. She made flying look way easy. “There’s also the weather magics.” A smile. “Back in Equestria, pegasi control the weather.”
The unicorn nods. “What about unicorns?”
Twilight almost sighs. “That would be the unicorn magics… the ones I lost when I broke my horn. Everypony has the hoofgrip, unless they’ve lost a limb or something- but unicorn magic is… Well, I’ve used time travel spells before, so… Oh- Short Flight, have you tried using magic yet?”
“Huh? I can’t- erm, except the fly thing I guess…”
Twilight scowls. “I’ll take that as a no. Um, here, then.” She removes her hand, and drops it on the floor. “See the hand?”
Nod.
“Right then. Close your eyes- then see it again, in your mind’s eye.”
She blinks. “Uh, okay.” She closes her eyes, and pictures it in her mind’s eye, right where it was. “Okay?”
“Alright. Now, picture a hoof- or a hand, if that works for you- reaching out to grab it.”
She does. She’s not entirely certain how this would help. “Okay?”
“Uh… Picture it harder? Make it grab it- and picture it as firmly as you can. Push it into the world.”
She tries that. Something starts tingling on her forehead. She opens her mouth to speak.
“Good! Now lift it.”
She tilts her head, and pictures it moving up a few feet.
“Excellent! Now open your eyes.”
She opens her eyes.
The pegasus and the unicorn are staring at her, jaws hanging. Twilight is beaming at her.
The hand is not on the floor.
The hand is three feet up, floating in a shroud of golden energy.
Her jaw drops. The hand follows suit, the shroud simply disappearing.
“Yes, you did,” Twilight states. “Good job! Probably the best first spell I’ve ever seen.”
“Wha- um… I… I guess that would be normal to you, wouldn’t it?”
Twilight blinks. “Wha- huh?” She looks around the room. “... Oh. Um, yes, but… not around here, I guess. Well, everypony, first practical demonstration of unicorn magic! … or something. Try not to mention it to anypony else?”
“Uh… Sure, no problem,” the pegasus states, after blinking.
The unicorn closes his jaw. “Um… Yes, no problem. Now I can hardly wait.” He glances at Twilight, but she seems to miss it completely.
Then Twilight turns back towards her. “Sooo, how do you know about Equestria?”
“Uh… it goes back several thousand years,” she warns.
“I’m listening.”
“It’s a long story.”
Nod. “I’m listening.”
“Stuff is happening?”
“Athena can handle it.”
She sighs. “Fine. According to the texts, we didn’t used to be ponies. At least ten thousand years ago- that’s the earliest we’ve been able to date anything, but we haven’t been able to date many of these texts- we instead walked on two legs. We stood tall, using our ‘arms’- what became our forelegs- to manipulate the world around us. At the ends of these arms existed hands.
“Except, it wasn’t an acronym. It was an actual, biological part that we used just like we use our ‘hands’ devices today.
“These ancient… Well, people, built spaceships. They built starships- most notably, one with something called a ‘Distortion Drive’, a machine theoretically capable of propelling their ships faster than light. They left a few fragments of the blueprint for it, so just about everypony alive has heard of it, but nopony has ever seen a working one. Just about everypony is trying to build one, though.
“Anyways. These people. They built a ship with a distortion drive, and traveled the stars. Many of their voyages came up with nothing- but in one of them, they found an odd world.
“A world that turned them into ponies as soon as they came close. Pegasi that could fly, unicorns that could do magic. Earth ponies that could… they never were very clear on that.”
“Extra strength and an affinity for plants,” Twilight states. “They’re natural farmers.”
She blinks. “Uh… okay. Anyways. When they returned home, they brought that power with them. Anypony that touched it was transformed- so before long, even the holdout groups had been transformed.
“Then they invented a machine called the ‘transporter’. It let them teleport around, regardless of type.
“Only, as they used it, their power faded. They slowly became the ponies we are today. It took them ‘many, many years’ to get civilization back on track. Most of them died before the first ‘hands’ device was produced and, eventually, mass-produced, the way they are today.
“Most of their technology broke down and disintegrated at the same time. The only records we have of them… are from the few databanks that survived the ages.”
“Ahh… You said that micronation was trying to find Equestria?”
She nods. “Yes. We don’t have any record of where it was, only how they found it. And how long it took- some five hundred years or so, we think. So, they’ve been trying to find it. Thousands of unmanned probes, scattering into space. Reporting the locations of potential targets, for when we finally get a working Distortion Drive.”
“... You’re really making me regret overheating ours.”
Her gasp mirrors both the pegasus and the unicorns’ gasps, then she speaks the same words as them- and not quite in tandem. “You had a working Distortion Drive?”
Twilight blinks. “Uh… yes.”
“But- but that’s impossible! The technology hasn’t been refined yet!”
The alicorn shrugs. “It got us here,” she states. “Hopefully, once it cools down a bit, it can get us back.”
“But it’s- it’s-!” She lets out a sigh, hanging her head. Her new wings droop at her sides as well. “It’s no more impossible than me doing…” She glances up at the hand, still sitting on the floor. “That. And…” She stretches the wings now, glancing back at them. “You said ‘ascension’ happens more often to princesses than not… what did you mean by that?”
Twilight blinks. “... Yeah, I did word that a little weird, didn’t I? Well… back in Equestria, all Alicorns are automatically Princesses… because, excluding whatever made you and Midnight alicorns, there’s only one way to ascend, being to align oneself with the Elements of Harmony so thoroughly you manage to actually merge yourself with one or more of them, briefly. Then…” She sighs. “Princess Midnight admitted she wasn’t even a pony, let alone an alicorn, until after she boarded our ship… and now you ascend just by stepping aboard.” She looks up at the ceiling. “Which reminds me, Athena? Was there anything to suggest she’d ascend before she came aboard?”
“Negative. Anomaly is thaumic in nature; ascension completed within zero point three seven seconds of first suggestion of such.”
“Right… Then, how’re you so confident everypony else will just gain their normal pony magics?”
“Simulation confidence to that effect is seventy-nine point three one percent; based on thaumic behavior analysis in both interactions spotted. Ascension appears to be caused by thaumic levels beyond a specific threshold; status as female royalty during thaumic rejuvenation process appears to boost levels beyond this threshold.”
“Female specifically?” the unicorn asks, an eyebrow raised.
“Affirmative.”
“... Huh.”
She raises her hoof. “Um…”
She gets Twilight’s attention. “Yes?” the purple alicorn asks.
“Why is it ‘ascension’?”
“Huh…? Oh, you mean, why is it called ascension?”
She nods.
“That’s an easy one. In ascension, we ascend above our tribal limits; we Alicorns possess the magic of all three tribes, we’re extremely powerful, and of course, we’re also immortal.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Immortal?” she asks. “Like, can’t-be-killed immortal?”
“What-? No! Alicorns can still be killed, don’t get me wrong- we’re just harder to kill than other ponies, and won’t die of old age.” She glances up at the other two. “I’ve noticed a similar difference between ponies with magic and those without; the ponies on this world seem positively fragile… and short-lived.”
“Wouldn’t ponies get jealous?”
Blink. “Uh- no? I mean, sure, there’s the odd power-hungry pony that tries to take it, or even a monster like Tirek… but everypony else just looks up at us. After all, with great power comes great responsibility.”
“I… I don’t get it.”
“I think I do,” the pegasus states, trotting forwards. She stops next to Twilight. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but it sounds to me like you’re basically goddesses.”
“Wha- no!” Twilight exclaims. “We’re not- … Though, come to think of it, it really isn’t that far off.”
“It does make me wonder, though,” the unicorn states. “What happens when your family grows old and you don’t?”
The purple alicorn shudders. “Short Flight won’t need to worry about that for a while yet; the immortality doesn’t set in until full adulthood… but I do dread the day my friends die.”
She tilts her head. “Is there a way to make them ascend, too?”
This produces another shudder. “In theory, yes. In reality, not really. And if we did that… ascension would start to feel like something you get at the market, and we’d have to do it for everypony. Then there’d be a coup by the nobles, Celestia would be overthrown, and the entirety of Equestria would be ruined. We’d be lucky to survive even this far away.”
“Wow. That bad?”
Nod. “Alicorns are powerful. And that doesn’t even count the fact we don’t know yet if stallions even can ascend!”
“That’s everypony!” Cold Coils calls, before leaping off the boarding ramp to the shuttle and flapping her wings to dampen her fall before she hits the concrete landing pad at a dead run. As she gallops, she speaks into her headset. “Shuttle Three-Seven is loaded.”
Another voice almost instantly comes over the line. “Two-Three loaded.” A quick glance in that direction shows a yellow blur rocketing up and away from the shuttle, before detouring quickly to the side to make the next pad, with the next flight of shuttles. She almost smiles; that mare had, as soon as she understood the situation, completely lost all of her shyness- and care about whether ponies realized she could fly.
“Two seven loaded- Flight Two-Three is loaded and ready. Ground crew report!” A purple blur, also going up, from another shuttle. Princess Twilight has also chosen to take to the air for this operation- and since it’s an evacuation to the massive Starship Athena, she’s not surprised.
“Swift Orbit Clear!”
“Low Trajectory Clear!”
“Rainbow Clear!”
“Rarity Clear!”
“Applejack Clear!”
“Cupcakes!”
“Midnight Clear.”
She reaches the edge of the pad, and speaks into her own mic again. “Cold Coils Clear.”
Twilight’s voice comes in again. “All clear, Flight Two-Three, launch. Mark. Flight Two-Four Report!”
Every vertical thruster on every shuttle on the entire pad behind her fires simultaneously, filling the air briefly with that deafening roar as the shuttles soar skyward like homesick meteors. But she pays them no mind, hitting the next landing pad and detouring to the nearest shuttle with ponies still gathered around it.
At the same time, reports start coming back.
“Four seven loaded!”
“Two one loaded!”
“Four three trouble!” The purple blur detours towards the named shuttle.
Thunder suddenly rumbles. She glances up briefly.
It’s that massive dropship Twilight had Athena build. It’s been a month since the attack was stopped; ever since then, Twilight’s had Athena working repair priority on her Distortion Drive, then to restoring her small craft, starting with heavy-lift passenger equipment, preparing for this very motion. They hadn’t expected it to be an emergency, rather more of just exposing everypony to the thaumic energy aboard ship. This shuttle reportedly was launched early just minutes after the eighth manually-operated flight went up; unfortunately, most of their shuttles don’t support remote overrides, even with Athena’s assistance. All of the ones that do are operating under Athena’s direct control, running back and forth faster than any pony captain could hope to move them.
Then there’s this massive shuttle. It’s not even finished- she’d seen. It’s got three decks to it- the top two for passengers, and the bottom one for equipment. Said lower deck is only half full, only some of the equipment having been installed. Each time it comes back, more of it is finished- probably installed while the passengers are busy filing out of it. It’s been running back and forth as well, picking its own new landing spot- floating in midair over some debris or something, at least a couple of times- each time… then departing again as soon as it’s loaded. At least once, it flew through the city to pull trapped survivors out of various skyscrapers, making many stops before it finally returned to orbit.
She reaches the shuttle she’d selected. Some family or another is fighting over which shuttle to go into; this one’s only half full. She practically shoves them up the steps. “Move it!” she yells. “There’s more than enough space!”
Yet another voice sounds through her headset, exuding an unnerving calm in the middle of the emergency situation. “Ground crew at Orbital Control Central, please hold Flight Two Five and beyond.”
“Roger!” she cries back into the long-range channel, while at least one joyous whoop comes back over the short-range lines.
Yeah, that’s another thing. Ever since Flight Six left, Athena herself hasn’t been in orbit. With the remaining thermal energies contained she knows not where, the massive starship descended to the planetary surface- and has been moving strategically around, loading ponies directly. Far faster than loading with shuttles. And if she’s instructed them to hold Flight Two Five and beyond, that means she expects to arrive at their location- being Orbital Control Central, the location with the most shuttles and platforms, and therefore her last stop- before the said flight is ready to launch.
She glances over at Athena’s shuttle… Yeah, it’s stopping in another suburban neighborhood a good mile away, this time loading from the back of the lines to these pads.
She continues cramming ponies into shuttles. Flight Two Four has not been ordered held- meaning they’ll still be able to get more ponies to safety, faster, by launching it than by holding it.
Another voice comes over the long-range channels. “Flight Two-Five at Orbital Control Central, requesting permission to load anyways for docking in upper bays upon arrival.” That permission had been denied at a couple of places; it was faster for them to simply abandon their shuttles than to try loading up passengers and flying them in… or, at least once, none of the upper bays were available. Other places, it had been granted. The last several times, it’s been granted more often than not.
The response comes back. “Permission granted; limit two flights.”
“Roger!” cries one of the workers at the pad entrances, also on the long-range. She, along with the rest of those workers, are responsible for the counting and assignment of the ponies entering- so that no shuttle is overfilled.
“Don’t panic,” she yells, only partway into the Royal Canterlot Voice, as she glides overtop the veritable sea of ponies entering the ship. “Enter in an orderly fashion!”
She hasn’t a clue how the ship is fitting quite so many ponies in so quickly. She only remembers a single door or two leading out of those bays, not nearly enough to have so many ponies- almost the full width of the bay- trotting in continuously.
She eyes the darkness rumbling in the distance. So far, the evacuation of the planet has been successful; aside from the initial attacks, they haven’t lost anypony.
Rather unfortunate that, unlike the pro-Equestria nation that stopped by a month ago (and never left, by choice), this anti-Equestria nation not only has a far larger army but is using ships Athena can’t take control of. Athena had managed to exact quite a lopsided loss ratio on them with the pro-Equestria nation’s then-empty ships and the system defense nodes- but that hadn’t stopped them. These… monsters, for lack of a better term.
Sure, they’re technically ponies- but they’re here explicitly to kill and destroy anything that might relate to anypony with anything even remotely resembling magic. They’d shredded almost every ship in space in the process of fighting the battleships and defense nodes- then of course, Athena herself had started launching what Twilight called “thermonuclear weapons” at them- and forced them to take cover.
The problem with those weapons is that they’re too powerful, according to Twilight and several ‘munitions engineers’ from down here, to be used in the atmosphere- they’ll shatter the planet. As a result, while extremely effective in cutting the attacking fleet down to size in space, they couldn’t do anything about the ships that had made it to the surface.
The ships that are now sweeping across the surface, shooting up everything in sight. The few of those that tried coming too close to the Athena, of course, shortly found out that the massive ship is protected. None of her weapons systems are working- but that’s what she herself is here for: Princess Luna, the Princess of the Night and the High General of all Equestria’s combat forces.
Turns out magic is effective against spaceships.
So they’ve bunched up, and Athena has moved quickly, loading up ponies and staying away from them. Reportedly, her shields are still inoperable, and her armor is still damaged- meaning they actually stand a chance of destroying the massive ship. She might have gone hunting for them, but she agrees with Athena- she might be able to overwhelm and destroy a single ship or pair of ships, but the teams they have now will overwhelm her.
And they’re coming. She rises high above the operation, scanning all around. The destruction is visible from every direction, closing in on them.
She gets on the short-range band. “The enemy approaches,” she declares. “How long do we have left?”
“Ten and a half minutes,” Twilight’s voice responds. “How long do we have?”
“Five. Maybe.”
Something blasts suddenly out from Athena’s side, going almost instantly supersonic and hugging the ground as it rips off into the distance, eliciting more than one scream from the ponies below. As it gets near the oncoming destruction, she sees it starting to trade bolts of light with the same.
“Somepony’s in trouble,” she mutters, moments before a massive explosion graces the enemy lines.
It won’t be enough. She’s joining Luna in the air, watching as the lone fighter Athena finished and launched earlier does battle with the enemy, streaking around like a shooting star, yet still making pinpoint corners. It’s earned them precious minutes to load the ship- but they’re not done yet, and despite the tiny ship’s best efforts, the enemy grows closer. There’s just too many for it to fight.
“Twilight,” Luna greets. “How goes?”
“We don’t have enough time,” she states.
“I see the shuttles are still moving,” Luna adds.
Twilight nods. “Yeah. Only the ones on Athena’s control by now, though.” She hefts a massive weapon of some sort. “Found this in the armory- going to make a last stand. Give them a chance.”
Luna bows her head. “Allow me to join you.”
Twilight sighs. “Celestia will miss you.”
Luna grins, sparkling black armor forming around her once again. “Oh, dear sister of mine, I know, but she will understand. Your friends will miss you.”
She nods. “I know. But it’s better me than all of them.”
Fluttershy rises up suddenly on Twilight’s other side, toting an even bigger weapon. “If you’re staying to fight, so are we,” she declares.
“What-?” Twilight asks.
Fluttershy smiles at her. It’s not her usual, kind smile, but more of a protective smile, quite at odds with the pegasus’ personality.
Twilight glances downwards, spotting Rainbow, Applejack, Pinkie, Rarity, Midnight, and even Cold Coils- who had gone aboard earlier- wielding similar weapons down on the surface. “What-?” she begins.
“Nopony hurts our friends,” Fluttershy declares.
“Alright,” Twilight states, priming her weapon and aiming it at the approaching ships. “Everypony ready for this?”
The streaking meteor of a fighter rips through the enemy squadron, shredding several ships as it passes. They still haven’t managed to hit it. Twilight aims, and fires, striking the nose of an oncoming ship, just below the front windows. It then drifts sideways for a few seconds, nearly colliding with one of its allies before it jolts back into position. As if this were some kind of cue, everypony opens fire.
During one of the brief moments when her massive weapon is working its automatic reloading, Twilight glances down at the ground. Their enemy is almost on top of them- at this point, nopony will be able to get back to the ship.
There’s still a decently large crowd on the ground, staring up at them- and at the Athena. The Athena is no longer on the ground, rising swiftly up from it with a steady hum, and then the impossible happens.
The middle of the ship seems to twist into nowhere, moments before the rest of the ship follows suit, vanishing into nothing.
Then, at the same time as she spots a sudden white glow around absolutely every pony left on the ground, everything turns white.
Finally, the white goes away. Funny, she thought that was enemy energy fire- but she sees she’s inside a ship.
“Welcome aboard, Captain,” Swift Orbit greets, before sipping from a coffee mug held in his magic.
She lands solidly on the decking beneath her hooves, wings falling slack. Her massive weapon is simply gone.
“What?” she asks. “Is everypony safe?”
“Yep,” he states. “And your ship is truly impressive. Your fight gave her enough time to shed all her excess heat, refuel, and operate some fairly major repairs.”
“... What? That’d take months!”
He nods. “Yeah. Athena?”
“Subjective operating time since departure from local planet Earth, one point three seven years.”
“Subjective?” Twilight demands immediately. “What about objective?”
“Kronos active.”
“When did that happen?”
“One point three seven years, subjective.”
Blink. “How about objective?”
“This vessel is currently holding a timeline position at zero point three milliseconds after Kronos departure.”
“Mm?” Twilight asks, looking over. All the rest of her friends, plus Midnight and Cold Coils, are lined up next to her, on the same strange, round thing.
“Do you happen to know why I have wings?”
… and all Alicorns.
“Um,” she begins intelligibly. “No? Athena?”
“Use of the transporters on thaumically capable ponies appears to induce ascension.”
“... and you didn’t guard against that why?”
“This vessel is not equipped with any other way to have performed the rescue involved. Energy weapons fire graced your prior position approximately zero point three one six seconds after extraction.”
“... Oh. And how long ago was that, objectively?”
“This vessel is currently holding a timeline position exactly equal to that of extraction.”
She blinks. “Wait. Currently holding?”
“Affirmative.”
“You mean you can travel through time!?”
“Affirmative.”
“Then you can take us back to Equestria.”
“Affirmative.”
“What?” Swift Orbit asks, looking up. “I thought Navigation was buggered.” He glances at Twilight. “Lots of ponies have asked for that, and she’s always answered that navigation was offline.”
“Wait,” Twilight states, before looking at the ceiling. “You managed to fix Navigation?”
“Negative.”
She blinks. “What changed?”
“The Navigation System was released from Kronos Lock one point three minutes ago and is ready for duty.”
So she sighs. “Then… oh, I don’t know. How are the repairs?”
“Full repairs have been completed through the use of Dual Kronos Activation.”
“Dual Kronos Activation?” she asks.
“Affirmative. This vessel received parts for repairs from its future selves; immediately following repair completion, Dual Kronos Activation was used to create extra time for this vessel to return back on itself to manufacture parts for provision to its past self, and to provide the same. This Dual Kronos Layer contained no crew or passengers; Dual Kronos Activation was perceived by all crew and passengers as a minor vibration. The aforementioned predestination paradox has been fulfilled in its entirety, immediately prior to your extraction.”
“How… How long did that take, subjective?”
“Dual Kronos Activation expanded time available for full-capacity parts manufacture and resource collection by three hundred twenty-six point four years.”
“What-! How long did it take to build you?”
“Original construction time, with the assistance of dedicated yard and support facilities not available in deep space, is recorded as three years, seven months, and four days.”
“Alright, let’s go back to Equestria. It’s been far too long; Celestia’s probably got a long list of problems waiting for us.”
“Error; this vessel is not authorized to travel near Equus at this point in the timeline.”
“... What?”
“This vessel is not authorized to travel near Equus at this point in the timeline.”
“What’s that mean?”
“This vessel is not authorized to divulge any further detail to any entity, including Command Personnel.”
“... Well isn’t that just dandy.”
Twilight has asked Athena to travel back to Equestria several times, always met by the same answer. She could take them just about anywhere else they wanted to go, though- not that she wanted to go anywhere but home.
So now, a full year after her extraction onto the ship, the thing is still floating just off of Earth, at exactly the same timeline position as she had been extracted at.
“Wait a minute,” Twilight says, head shooting up in the air. “How far back can we go in the timeline?”
“Indefinite.”
Blink. “How are we doing on fuel?”
“All fuel reserves are filled to capacity. Entropy Engine operating at negative zero point three percent capacity.”
She tilts her head. “Entropy Engine?”
“The Entropy Engine harnesses the energy lost to entropy in a universe. This universe has an infinite supply of such energy; thanks to matter production processes happening aboard this vessel, entropy is being used as a sump for excess energy.”
“Infinite?”
“Affirmative.”
“And matter production?”
“Affirmative. Earth pony magic has been confirmed to create matter.”
“... Um, okay. Yeah. Um, let’s go back to Equestria, if possible, at the timeline position in which you first arrived.”
“Orders confirmed; en route. Warning: Disembarkation at specified location and timeline position may result in a Grandfather Paradox.”
Twilight shudders. “Yeah, don’t want to do that. Um, the you arriving in the universe at that point has everything working, right?”
“Affirmative.”
“Um… Yeah. Sabotage its navigation system, please. I don’t want it going anywhere. Then slide forwards in the timeline until we can appear without causing a paradox, and do that.”
“Orders confirmed. Placing Navigation System of past self under Kronos Lock and placing paradox warnings now; Predestination Paradox fulfilled. Releasing Kronos now, at July Two, Six Thirty-Seven PM, Year One Zero One Three, Canterlot Universal Time, in Low Equus Orbit.”
“Predest-?” Twilight blinks, and facehooves. “And I bet I can’t go back and undo that Kronos lock without making a Grandfather Paradox.”
“Negative; the paradox created would be considered a Lets-Kill-Hitler paradox; this, like the Grandfather Paradox, is another method by which the timeline can be destroyed.”
She shudders. “Yeah, don’t want to do that. Oh well. Um, what just happened to make a grandfather paradox no longer a danger?”
“Kronos release occurred zero point three seconds after this Vessel’s past self departed on Distortion Drive."
“Awesome! Now, where’s the intercom?”
Screens throughout the ship light up, displaying Captain Twilight Sparkle sitting on her Command Chair, as the gentle chime of the All-Hands signal sounds through the ship. She waits a couple seconds as millions, billions, of ponies look up from whatever they were doing.
“We made it, Ladies and Gentlecolts,” she smiles, from every screen on the ship. “We’re here. Low Equus Orbit.”
Applause erupts all over the ship, some slightly delayed as the listeners process the terms.
Twilight smiles, giving pause for it to fade some. “Now, there is some less pleasant news as well, I’m afraid. That is, Equestria isn’t nearly as big as this ship. Unfortunately, we won’t all be able to disembark at once- not for a very long time. But we’re here!”
The local atmosphere of Equus protests sharply as the slender craft slices through it with disdain. Doors on its wings slide open as it loses speed, allowing the engines inside to take up the task of holding it up, as it drifts closer and closer to the castle before it. It stops just beyond the castle wall, a door on its side, not far ahead of the wing, slides open.
Princess Celestia watches, from her balcony, as a dark figure flashes out of it, curving on its own wings towards her. She might have been worried, or braced herself for combat, but she recognized that figure.
Moments later, Princess Luna lands not on Celestia’s balcony, but on her, tackling her to the ground in a massive hug. “Sister, oh how I have missed you,” she croons.
Celestia blinks, returning the hug. “You headed up this morning,” she states. “What happened?”
Luna looks back at the hovering aircraft, and the six additional figures flying out from it to meet them. “A year and a half,” Luna states. “It was a year.”
Celestia sighs, smiling at her sister as she struggles back upright. “Not a year,” she states. “I would have known if you were away that long.”
Luna pulls her head back, grinning cheerfully. “Twilight’s ship can travel through time,” she states. “‘Twas but a few hours to you, but a whole year for us.”
The six Element Bearers of Harmony land on the balcony, in a row, behind Luna.
Celestia blinks. “What-?”
“Yeah,” Twilight nods. “That was my first reaction as well, a year ago. Subjective. Which was actually, like, next month. Turns out Athena has some fancy teleportation technology… that turns anypony that goes through it into an Alicorn.” She smiles. “It’s been locked down for supplies only. No ponies.”
“How… How many?”
“Not many,” Twilight shrugs her wings. “Just us and Cold Coils. Midnight Blade and Short Flight were already Alicorns when we met them.”
“Wait,” Celestia states. “You didn’t foalnap another world’s royalty, did you?”
“Yeah, no,” Applejack states. “Midnight was the final survivor of her entire race when we rescued her, and Short Flight… Well, we rescued her entire planet from death and destruction.”
“What.”
Twilight nods. “Yeah. They called it ‘earth’... and there was a whole faction of evil ponies blowing up the planet and killing everypony on it. We couldn’t effectively stop them… so we did what they wanted us to do, and took them all aboard.” She glances up at the sky. “Almost six billion ponies. And every last one of them searching, wishing, to come to Equestria.”
Celestia looks skywards, at the glistening speck of a starship. “... Oh.”