> Salvage a Better Life
>  by law abiding pony
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> 1: An End to Drudgery
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cut and sort. 
Cut and sort. 
Cut and sort. 

That has been Wiggly Sprocket’s life for years. 

She was a ship breaker for Trireme Station, and was mentally on autopilot as she cut a ruined fighter apart. Stretched out over a few kilometers were sixteen other breakers in their own docks. 

In the cold weightless vacuum,  her cutter’s deep groaning traveling up her legs was partially drowned out by the classic violin music in her helmet. Twin beams of energy rhythmically moved back and forth as the razor thin cut was made.  As the cut finished, the segment lazily started drifting away. With tired drudgery, she angled her wrist mounted scanner over the piece she had just removed, and let it see if the internal component she wanted had survived intact.

Trireme station loomed behind her, and the formerly marble and gold colors of the once proud mining station had been dulled and marred by solar winds, war, and neglect. 

Thankfully, the war was over, and the dying was done. But picking up the burnt and scattered pieces was neither quick nor easy. The gateway station linking the Lilian system to the rest of the United Pony Space Initiative was in ruins. Of the previous seventeen colonies and habitat stations, only a few facilities remained.  Small farming towns on the lone habitable world, the foundering shipyard in orbit over the planet, and Trireme station that orbited just star-side of the first asteroid belt were all that had survived.  For the navy, four warships and a handful of strike craft were counted among the living.  Their enemies however were broken, and those that were marooned in the Lilian system had turned to scavenging and petty piracy. 

All of the wrath, ruin, and the drudgery of her work kept Wiggly feeling as if she was in limbo, never able to see a return to real joy or Harmony. 

With her scan showing all green, Wiggly used a repulser to launch an intact sensor array down to the recovery barge, then turned back to the half chopped-up fighter. She pulled out her scanner once more to plan the next cut, and had it outline dangerous or expensive components that would violently disagree with her cutting tool. She marked the best cut lines which remained on her visor as she secured the scanner. She halted the retrieval of her cutter when the music stopped in her helmet and a low whistle played. A massive grin cleaved her muzzle as text scrawled across her visor ‘prepare for end of shift’.  Drudgery could wait. 

Her stomach protested her negligence.  “You and me both.”

Moving her repulsor to her back, and allowing the magnetic clamps to secure it, she spread her wings and used the rcs thrusters to gently drift back to the transport belt. It was little more than a series of metal hoops moving on a conveyor belt that went from the edge of the pier to the station airlock. 

Once there, she pulled a lever and a low powered holding beam blanketed the chopped up fighter for her to continue tomorrow. 

More text scrawled across her visor, ‘lockdown complete, breaker may depart.  Please remember to return all rented tools to the kiosk before clocking out.’

Sprocket saw a few other breakers sail by with one of them waving at her. With a grin only quitting time could bring, she grabbed a waiting rung and was pulled along at great speed. 

Trireme station dominated her view now. It was a ruined drum shaped station. There used to be a massive cylinder that housed natural greenery and habitats easily the size of a megalopolis. But the war had seen to the end of that. A gaping hole had been blown through one side and secondary damage had destroyed fully half of the drum.

Thankfully though, the central spire survived, and with it a sizable portion of the population. With the asteroid mining ships all destroyed and the great foundries still as cold as the void, Trireme had been reduced to feeding on the plentiful carrion left by the war. The last two years had seen enough repairs to stabilize the structure, but hopes to return it to its glory days were decades away when the repair crews were sent to rebuild the shipyards. 

Wiggly Sprocket was brought to an airlock at the central spire where she and a few others waited for it to cycle for them. The local radio was abuzz with chatter and music from ponies that were coping as best they could. She looked up towards the great wound and saw a small tug dragging in a new derelict. 

A shoulder bumped Sprocket causing her to turn to a friend of hers. “Hey, Sprocket, you down for drinks for Pieday?”

“I can’t, I promised Live Wire I’d take him up-spire to a restaurant with actual food.”

The airlock clanked open, the sound of it traveled up their boots. The stallion tsked in disappointment. “Yeah, that’s right. You two’s birthday is today isn’t it?  Well, tell your brother I said hi for me.”

Air hissed into the lock, making all of the jostling metal and fabric become audible. “Will do.”

As everyone chatted and bragged or groaned about production numbers all while shedding their space suits, showering, and surrendered their tools. Sprocket kept her cutter and scanner, as she had bought them to avoid rental fees. Lugging the fairly heavy tools across her back, they were made lighter by the one third gravity the station could maintain. Sprocket opted to skip returning home to drop her equipment off, and instead made her way to her brother’s workstation. 

It wasn’t that far from the breaker locker rooms anyway, and it felt nice to stretch her wings and legs as she danced between running and flying over groups or other obstructions along her path. 

However, it was not feathers that gave her flight, as she could not grow them. Sprocket was a pegacorn, a daughter of magic and the sky while naturally lacking the talents of either. Her horn would have been uncontrollably discharging lightning throughout the day, igniting the oxygen in her suit had she not possessed a wire mesh that ran along the spiral of her horn. 

Her wings were partially encased in threads of metal that hummed whenever she wanted to fly. Due to the war she had not been able to buy ones that fit since she was a young teenager.  Her current set was a jerry rigged mess that barely hung on to the three long fingers of her wings, and hummed at different pitches when she used it. Were it not for the low gravity, she’d be unable to fly at all. 

Unlike the truly vast open area of the wrecked cylinder, the hallways she walked through were cramped and worn out. Repair teams were never in great supply after they left for the shipyards, and less traveled places like this corridor were held together by slap-patches and hasty welding. 

Sprocket rounded a foggy corner and spotted her destination. Live Wire’s posting was once one of five teller front offices where ponies would go to remotely buy and register ships bought from the colony shipyard. Now though it was where salvage shipmasters would go to have wrecks scanned and sold upon delivery. 

Unfortunately, such large tugboats were easy prey for pirates, and were getting few and far between now. As such, Live Wire was the only one still present.  He looked intensely bored at his teller station until he saw his sister’s approach, and waved tiredly at her. “Wiggs, how was today?”

Wiggly leapt over the counter and tackled him into a crushing hug, an act made worse by the tools on her back. “Wirrrrrrre!” She cheered happily as she buried her face into his neck. All through her life, the unicorn always made her feel safe in his embrace, like she was protected from the world’s woes. Where Wiggly possessed a pale red coat and a rich blue mane that had a streak of orange off the left side. Live Wire was a sky blue unicorn with a shock of vibrant red and orange mane spiked up.  He bore a number of scars in spite of his fairly young age, with the worst being across the left side of his face.  In place of an eye, he possessed a cheap orange implant that contrasted with his natural emerald eye.  It had been worn out before he got it, and it couldn’t properly use his metabolism to power it for very long.

Chuckling sheepishly at the security camera above his head, Live Wire returned the crushing hug with one of his own. For his part, Wiggly was like a little sister to him, someone to guide and protect at all costs. He stroked her mane, knowing she needed a release from the tedium of her work. The act caused her to briefly go limp in his welcome embrace. 

Reluctantly, Wiggly removed herself, and knew he would chastise her if she didn’t float back over to the customer side of the kiosk.  She leaned against his desk with fatigue settling over her joy of visiting him.  “Are you ready to get out of here for our birthday?”

Wire groaned, and started typing on his console. “I wish, but a tug just came in two minutes before closing for the night, and I drew the short straw.  Shouldn’t be waiting too long though, I doubt he wants to wait long.”  Live Wire checked the time in his eye.  “The hour being what it is, docking fees will start in twenty minutes if he doesn’t sign it over.”

“Well that’s good, because you still haven’t chosen where you want to eat.  It’s my treat tonight, birthday colt.”

“I told you what I want,” Wire asserted softly.  “An extra pack of synbeef is more than enough.  We need to save that money for the tickets out of here once the gate’s repaired.”

“Aww, but that could be a decade from now, and your birthday is today,” Wiggly punctuated with a light jab of a hoof.  “I can pull some overtime when the next one is offered.”

Wiggly dug her hooves in and continued to insist on a restaurant, knowing full well how much her brother loved to eat. Live Wire continued to deflect, trying to find some alternative cost-free activity they could do, and could never bring himself to be insistent enough to give Wiggly pause.  

Unbeknownst to them, barely ten feet away on the opposite wall, a rat was gnawing on electrical wire near a leaking methane pipe.

A short time later though, he was about to exhaust Sprocket’s ideas when a new face cleared her throat behind his sister.  Sprocket turned to see a craggy old salt of an earth mare in a tattered trenchcoat and a patchy mane.  “This is ship registration, right?” she asked with a snarl of impatience. 

Live Wire perked up, and nosed his sister’s hooves off the desk.  “That’s right.  I heard you come in, so I went ahead and readied the forms. You can sign off before the dockyard starts charging you.”  He magically withdrew a touch pad and pushed it forward.  Wiggly wanted the shipmaster to finish quickly, and cleared the way, giving a polite greeting as she retreated.

The corner of the earth mare’s lips turned up at the expediency, but shoved it back.  “‘Fraid you’re going to have to change forms there, sonny.  I want to register the boat under my name to fly, not sell it to be scrapped.”

“Oh!”  Wire was taken aback, and one look at Wiggly revealed she was no less surprised.  “You actually found a spaceworthy derelict?”  He reclaimed the pad, and inserted it into his console while trying to remember where those particular forms were.

“I wouldn’t exactly call her spaceworthy just yet.  Found a… courier shuttle that was chewed up by some PDC.  Found the crew still strapped to their seats with holes in them bigger than a hoof.  But whoever killed them missed the engine and enough important bits that it can be patched up in a day or so.  I just need to find a crew for her.”

Live Wire pulled the pad back out and presented the new forms.  “Well congratulations, that’s a hell of a find, if a bit grizzly.”

While her brother may have been playing the smiling clerk act, Wiggly Sprocket felt like the world was growing distant as opportunity loomed over her like a mountain.  The shipmaster was about to grab the pad to allow it to scan her retinas to confirm her claim over the salvage when Wiggly practically launched herself at the desk, startling the old mare into dropping the pad.  “Miss Shipmaster, ma’am!  I’ll join your crew!  I’ve worked as a breaker for eight years.  You need a piece cut off, and it’ll be done before the words even leave your mouth!”

Grumbling at having to bend down to reclaim the pad, the earth mare snorted at her.  “You don’t even look twenty-” The shipmaster paused after noticing Sprocket’s featherless three-fingered wings, and remembered her tribe could look eighteen and be in their eighties.  “Well, I ain’t looking for breakers… Then again, you pegacorns are supposed to be mechanical wizards ain’tcha?  Why are you workin’ the yards instead of the engineers or repair crews?”  

“I did, at first,” Sprocket admitted a bit too quickly for her liking.  “My boss at the time almost flooded hab block seven with carbon dioxide.  I tried telling him that, but he didn’t believe me.  So I maybe - sorta - had to be a bit punchy to get him out of the way to fix it.  ‘Course he took offense to that and blacklisted me for his mistake.”

Sighing in disappointment, the shipmaster turned away from Sprocket to read the tone print on the form.  “A common enough story, a bit too common,” she added with dismissive disbelief, “but I ain’t in the mood to take a risk on somepony who’s been blacklisted. Doesn’t look good to other possible crew and all.  And as I said, I don’t need a breaker.”

Desperation set in, and Sprocket pushed herself into the shipmaster’s face.  “Oh come on, ponies aren’t going to care since you’re the boss and not me. I can do it, I just need a chance!  You won’t find a better crewmember, I swear it, please!”

“You don’t know the first thing about runnin’ a ship. Get off me ya stupid girl!”  The earther bodily shoved Sprocket away, and using a mechanical hand on her hoof, she quickly drew a plasma pistol and aimed it right at Sprocket’s forehead. The only sound for a second was the whine of capacitors charging. “Touch me again, and I’ll melt that empty dome of yours.”

In an instant Wiggly’s whole demeanor changed. Gone was the desperate young mare, and nor did a panicky one take her place. No, Sprocket’s eyes reflected something old and unfazed by staring down the barrel of a gun. The firm, unwavering expression both impressed and unnerved the shipmaster, and her aim retreated barely a touch, but a noticeable touch. “I’ve stared down larger barrels than that.”

Live Wire lit his horn and a caustic orb threatened the shipmaster. “There’s no need for that. We’re a polite society here, yeah?”

Keeping a tense glare on both of them, the shipmaster watched Sprocket’s expression closely, looking for something.  A few moments pass before a wiry smirk crosses her lips.  Slowly and deliberately she flipped the safety on the pistol and holstered it. “That’s right. Real polite.”  She kept her gaze on Sprocket. “You have an old soul, girl.  Good on you for listening to it, albeit a bit late… Perhaps you got what it takes after all. We all got to start somewhere, you want to work?  I’ll run you like a dog, but you’ll earn a fair wage.”

Even if the weapon was out of her face, Sprocket couldn’t shake her tense demeanor.  Still, the opportunity was on the table, and the risk was inconsequential to her now.  She needed an escape, and a testy boss was good enough for her.  “Fine by me.”  Wiggly raised her hoof, and the shipmaster shook it.   

“Excellent.  I parked my new acquisition on dock 42A. You can show me if you pegacorns are as good as they say by getting it spaceworthy.”

Live Wire was floored by both the turn around, and that Wiggly agreed to such a thing without even looking at him.  Resolving to fuss at her later, he let go of the spell and resumed his customer service smile. “If you two are done, I’ll let security know there is no need for their services.”

He pressed his hoof down on the panic button twice to disable the alarm. Yet in doing so, the frayed wire sparked.  

Boom

The floor and opposite wall exploded into the hallway. Wiggly Sprocket’s world became a typhoon of blinding heat and light. She was slammed against the wall, and cut up by whizzing shrapnel.  She was left conscious, but dizzy and her ears were ringing like a school bell.  The station AI reacted quickly and cut off all gas, electrical, and fuel lines to the section.  The fire went out just as quickly as it started, leaving Wiggly to shakily gather her wits.  Pain throbbing on both sides of her.  Bleary, she picked herself back up.  What she lacked in magic, she made up for with durability. She cradled her head with the only wing that didn’t burn with pain.  She looked at her left side and she had raw burns and deep gashes along her flank, wing, and foreleg, but nothing felt broken.  Her cutter had fallen off of her, and aside from a new dent on the handle, it looked intact.  “Wire?  Wire?!” 

Fumbling on unsteady legs, she lurched over the counter, the red emergency lights illuminated her brother who was moaning from a concussion, but he had been shielded by the desk and-

Sprocket hastily looked to the shipmaster.  The old mare was covered in a heavy steel beam obscuring her forward body.  The upper segment of the beam was still attached to the ceiling which was the only reason the shipmaster wasn’t completely crushed.  Flashes of Trireme’s sundering rushed back. Although her focus was impaired by her fresh injuries, pain, and old scars she still acted with clarity. 

Wiggly reached for her cutting tool, and stumbled from the weight of it and her injuries.  Grunting with supreme effort, and wheeled it around, nearly stumbling in the process.  Flicking a pair of switches, she hefted the cutter and eyeballed a quick cut plan.  But she stopped short upon finally seeing something that she had first missed in the dim emergency lights: brain matter that was splattered against the wall.

With biting regret, she realized there was nothing she could do for the dead shipmaster. Wiggly was about to go to her brother’s side when she saw the data pad resting face up near the corpse.  Fumbling to return the cutter onto her back, she used a hoof to drag the pad away from the dead mare and looked at it.  It suffered spider-webbing cracks and part of the screen was black, but the ownership form was still active with the green scan button dutifully sitting there waiting to be used.

Cold logic and ambition took hold. She’s too dead to make use of it.  Sprocket glanced up at the camera, finding a chunk of metal had cleaved it in two.  With desperation gripping her heart and starting to break her focus, she looked down both ends of the hallway. She could hear shouting and oncoming hoofsteps, but no one was visible yet.  In a rush, she hit the button and held the pad up to her face.  She was half surprised the gentle red scanner still functioned and it scanned her eyes.  With a happy chime that felt out of place, the pad changed to show the vessel at docking bay 42A was to be transferred to her name, and all it needed was one last button to confirm.  Come what may, with a firm grimace she hit the submit button.





The next day Sprocket woke up in the infirmary.  She groaned, and sluggishly sat up to find her brother sitting on the foot of the cot she was on. The stallion was recovering nicely as well, but his eye implant was darkened without power.  He put down the practically ancient magazine he was reading and gave her a relieved smile. “Glad to see you back, Wiggs.”

She hissed from a combination of deep aches and swaths of shallow burns.  Bandages covered far more of her body than she remembered bleeding from.  She had no privacy from other patients, save for a lime green curtain.

“What happened?”  She rubbed her sore head. And narrowed her eyes against the harsh lights above. “Last thing I remember was…  Umm.”

A bemused lifted eyebrow was all she got at first. “You dragged me about one step before collapsing right there behind the desk.  At least that’s what the paramedic said.”

Sprocket paused to think, eventually her eyes widened. Everything rushed back to her between the gun and fleeing the area. “I went Wigglinanas again…”

“Completely.” Live Wire fumed with an annoyed scowl.  I still don’t get where she came up with that name. What even is a ‘nanans’?  “Wiggs, I get that we agreed that if a chance popped up for you to fly that you could jump at it. But I didn’t think that included signing up with a pony who drew a gun on you like that.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Wiggly sputtered, hoping for forgiveness.  “It’s just - I was as surprised as you were that she switched frequencies on me.  I figured if I hesitated she’d reconsider and say no.”

“You should have said no after that.”  Live Wire shook himself and had to force himself to let go of his anger.  Come what may, she was the world to him, and staying mad always felt weird to him, like his brain being dipped in oil.  “Well,” he started with a much calmer tone.  “Doesn’t matter either way, our would-be captain is dead.”

Two sets of armored hooves thudded on the metal decking, quieting Sprocket’s bemoaned reply.  The hooves came to a stop in front of her curtain which was drawn away to reveal two station security officers.  The front one was a hard edged pegasus stallion who was a passingly familiar face to the siblings, although neither of them could put a name to his face.  The dark gray earth mare behind him was more of a surprise.

“Boss?” Live Wire asked with a surge of worry.  “W-what brings you here with s-sec?” Live Wire gave the hard nosed administrator a sheepish grin. 

“Verifying some facts before an arrest is ordered.”  The administrator locked her harsh gaze upon Wiggly who cowed away.  “Miss Wiggly Sprocket, as per 24 U.P.C § 1771, I am here to inform you that Trireme feels aggrieved about a possible case of grand theft astra, and first degree fraud.”  The mare did not stop while the siblings looked pale enough to blend in with the bed sheets. “Know that if you decide to remain silent and invoke an attorney, I will move forward pressing the already stated charges. Am I understood?”

Wiggly’s lip was quivering and it took serious effort to make it stop. “I do.”

“Very good.”  The administrator mentally commanded a drone on her back to activate. It flew up to be level with her head and projected a hologram of the old shipmaster between herself and Wiggly. “Yesterday, Shipmaster Cherry Sweet made her intentions known to the dock controller that she was delivering a derelict for her use. Her death was registered at 1945 hours station time.”  The hologram changed to the damaged pad. “Yet the SAI logged the title transfer of the unnamed freighter to you at 1946. Care to explain this discrepancy?”

“Ah - yes I can.”  Sprocket paused and closed her eyes to try and recall the night as perfectly as she could. “You see, she - Cherry Sweat that is - agreed to sign me on as her second in command. When she died, her ships and possessions fell to me in lieu of a will, right?”

The administrator appeared unmoved by the defense.  “If you were officially recognized as part of her crew, then yes.  However, there is no crew whatsoever listed under Cherry Sweat.”

“It was a verbal agreement we settled that very night.”

A very faint uptick in the administrator’s lips gave way.  “Is that so?  Then care to explain this?”  The drone switched to video playback.  It was the security camera from the night prior when Cherry arrived at Wire’s kiosk.  It was silent, and it stopped when Cherry pulled her pistol on Sprocket.  “Does this look like the actions of somepony wishing to sign you on as a crewmember? Let alone a first mate?”

“I - I well umm…”  Wiggly’s memory of everything past that point grew hazy, and she didn’t know how to argue it.

“I thought not.”  The administrator turned to the police stallion.  “Officer, make a note of the time.  Resident Wiggly Sprocket is hereby charged with-”

“Wait a minute, where’s the rest of it?!” Live Wire cried out, stopping his boss, who turned to him with grave irritation.  Live Wire was unmoved by the baleful glare, and he tapped the side of his artificial eye.  “You forget I was there?  All cybereyes record the last forty eight hours in a secure partition.  It’s all part of the terms and conditions after all. I can provide everything else up to the explosion.  Cherry did invite my sister to her crew.” 

“A recording from an implant?  You could have doctoring software,” the mildly perturbed mare explained as if she was the only one speaking the truth.

“Then perhaps I can forward the file to a third party at the shipyard, or planetside by chance.”  Live Wire was running on dreams and hope.  He had no way of even contacting such a person, let alone affording to hire them.  “How about it?”

Sighing heavily at the resistance, the administrator inclined her head.  “Very well, forward the file to the drone.”  After doing so, the hologram revealed the rest of what happened that night up to the explosion itself including everything he had heard.  Although outwardly calm, the administrator was fuming, yet it was not directed at the siblings.  “I see I was not given the full recording.  Even so, a verbal agreement is not solid legal grounds.  I am willing to forgive the grievances.”

“I can keep my ship?” Wiggly asked with growing hope.

“Keep?  Hardly.  Trireme will acknowledge that you assumed you had legal course to keep the vessels, but you do not.  They belong to the station.”

Taken aback, Wiggly climbed off her bed, but stopped short of anything else as the officer moved a hoof over his gun as a warning.  “What are you even going to do with the ships?”

“That is no longer your concern,” the administrator remarked before studying their faces.  Then a moment passed before the risk of potential litigation threatening her career made her speak further.  “But I suppose there’s no harm in telling you.  Sweet Cherry’s original vessel will be auctioned off.  Failing that, it will be sent to the shipyard, who knows maybe it can be repurposed into an asteroid miner.  As for the unnamed vessel…”  She checked something in her implant.  “The tedious paperwork of registering a new transponder and the repairs will likely see it sent to the breakers.  Who knows, maybe you’ll be lucky enough to have it assigned to you, Miss Wiggly Sprocket.”

“If I may,” Wiggly began while bowing placatingly more to the officer than the administrator.  “If you’re just going to send my ship to the breakers, why not let me keep the thing?  I can fix it up, and then go do what I signed up for.  I mean, what’s more useful for Trireme: just one more derelict, or another salvager bringing in work?  Because I can tell you, the breakers never have enough work.”  It was a thin hope that the administrator lacked intricate knowledge on the breaker yards.  Work was getting thin, but the station wasn’t entirely desperate yet.  

“You haven’t even seen the freighter Cherry brought in,” the administrator retorted flatly.  “What makes you think you can fix it, let alone afford such a task?”

Wiggly proudly flared her three-fingered featherless wings.  “It’s in my blood.  I know I can do this.”

Humming for a second or two, the mare tilted her head.  “Perhaps you can, perhaps not.  In either case, Trireme will need to be compensated for relinquishing its claim over the freighter.  I tell you what…”  The administrator used her authority to check over the siblings’ records.  “You two are recipients of the War Orphans Act, yes?  Free room and board and a reduction on utility fees.”

Live Wire didn’t like where this was going one bit.  “Now wait a minute, boss, you and I both know that what you pay both of us can barely keep up with the rest of our bills.  How many times have I had to ask you for an advance or overtime?”

“You will have a ship to live on, yes?” the administrator replied with a matter-of-fact tone.  “The long term savings on resending your privileges will save Trireme more blips in the long run.  What say you?”

Before Wiggly could even move her jaw to speak, Live Wire roped her into a tight huddle while giving his superior a customer service smile. “Just a moment if you please.”  Turning back to his sister, Wire gave her an iron glare. “Don’t you dare.  Our rooms are all we have left of our parents.”

Hardly cowed by the display, Wiggly tutted.  “Yes, and so far all the station’s given us for losing them is a hole in the wall hammock, not even a proper one either, watery paste for food, and ‘clean’ air given a once-over by the scrubbers.”

“Better that than the void.”

“A ship is an upgrade and you know it!” Wiggly pressed while jabbing him with a wing. “What’s a better gift from our parents? Some rotten hole-for-a-home I can barely stretch my wings in, or a ship we can call our very own. It’s freighter, right?  Plenty of room.  We can live there from here on out.” 

It made sense to Live Wire, even if he didn’t like it. Wiggly would never forgive me if I put my hoof down.   His gaze softened as he thought it over.  As stable as it was, he had no love for clerical work, and even if he did, he couldn’t stomach working under the administrator any longer. Breaking the huddle, he turned towards his ex-boss. “So long as you waive docking fees for two weeks and give us allowances to fill our tanks to half, you got a deal.”

Humming in approval, the grim mare looked down her nose. “Nine days and one third on the tanks. Given your adequate work history; Mr. Wire, I’ll even add in a single replacement oxygen scrubber, should the vessel require it.”

Live Wire turned to his sister who was practically vibrating with excitement. He jerked his head towards the administrator. It was all Wiggly needed and she thrust her hoof forward to shake. “Deal!”

Arching an unamused eyebrow at the offered hoof, the mare simultaneously ordered the drone to move the offending hoof out of her personal space and send a request to the SAI. “Excellent.”  She didn’t need to wait long as the SAI delivered a document to her internal storage. She then redirected the same document to Live Wire and for it to be displayed by the drone. The holographic contract looked like a slightly yellowed scroll with the relevant text complimented by the seal of the United Pony Space Initiative above it.  “This is the contract of our aforementioned agreement. Peruse it if you feel it necessary, then sign.”

While Live Wire was able to simply use his soul key, a unique signature created between a pony and their first implant, Wiggly Sprocket was a rare all natural pony.  As such she had to let the drone scan her retina after she was satisfied the contract had not been quietly altered.

Once it was all said and done, the administrator hummed in satisfaction. “Perfect. Some advice, if I were you, I’d check yourself out within the hour. Your free healthcare is now expired. Good day.”  With a final nod, the administrator departed, dragging the officer with her. 

“I think we just spent more than we thought,” Wire worried as he could practically feel his wallet deflating. “Wiggly, if this freighter turns out to be a mistake, I swear on mom’s grave I’ll upload myself somehow so I can haunt you for your entire life.”

“How bad can it be? Cherry was willing to repair it and she was solo.” Sprocket patted her brother’s shoulder with a reassuring smile.






One hasty exit from the infirmary later, the siblings were quick to make their way back to their respective quarters.  Wiggly stepped inside presumably for the last time.  The once sterile floors and walls were worn down and dirty thanks to the cleaning bots being taken offline years ago to conserve power, only to never be resumed when the issue was solved.  What few possessions she had were scarce.  Lacking any real bag, she unhooked her cargo netting hammock and used it to grab what few bits she had before the station could claim it all.  The five ration bars in a cupboard, a few reused water bottles, some ratty clothes and dolls she had outgrown, but couldn’t bring herself to throw out.  The only thing she took real care in preventing damage were two picture frames.  She took them off the shelf and gently ran the edge of her wing on the first one.  It was her at nine years old.  Her proud pegacorn father and unicorn mother were smiling in their old home before the sundering.  When the drum was still intact, old fashioned houses made of real wood that had been grown right here in Trireme.  

The three of them sat on rich green grass with clouds obscuring the curve of the dome behind her smiling parents as they squashed her in a hug.  Tears fell from her eyes and she wiped them away with her other wing.  Ever so gently, she nuzzled the picture before carefully wrapping it up in an old blue and white dress.  The other photo was of six ponies; her family, and Live Wire’s own in one big group before the war started.  They had been neighbors back then, and Wiggly couldn’t remember the first day she had met Live Wire.  In fact, her first memory was waking up from a nap right next to him and knowing without a shadow of a doubt that they belonged with each other.

The warm memory faded, the smile on her face did not. She looked over the cramp room she had reluctantly called home one final time to ensure she didn’t miss anything. The creaking vent, the hundreds of tally marks she made hoping the room was temporary, the loose paneling where she hid Wire’s birthday gift once, and the leaky shower that she had to smuggle a tarp to replace the missing curtain. 

No, she wouldn’t miss any of it, because none of it was hers. She left that room, that cell, behind. 





Some lunch later, the siblings exited the tram which brought them to the dockyard. It was a massive artificial chasm that survived the sundering. Twin exits complete with shielding retained the atmosphere, and twenty ‘small’ docking platforms lined the edges. Eight recessed larger docking platforms sat in the center which allowed through traffic. Presently, three vessels were docked in the center platforms while over a dozen smaller craft took up the spaces lining the walls. The cacophony and pollution of so many ships was carefully regulated by pre-war mechitech, making the dockyard bearable without rebreathers or ear protection. 

Wiggly Sprocket took a long slow breath and sighed in contentment. “Can ya smell it, Wire?  This is a turning point, I can feel it.”

“Oh yeah, my nose hairs get burnt every time we come here,” he retorted with anxious humor. “But how about we save the ‘this is Elysium’ until after we see the state of our new home.”  Leading the way, Wire stepped onto a busy conveyor moving ponies and small cargo pods alike. 

“You mean you haven’t looked at the scans yet?  I would have by now if I had a sublink.”

Wire shrugged helplessly. “Cherry clearly did some of her own, else she wouldn’t want to keep the thing, but the station doesn’t exactly give those out for free even if we’re the new owners. The only thing I know is that it is a terrapin class light freighter.  We’ll just have to be surprised.”

“Oh you know what? All the better!”  Sprocket giggled manically as the conveyer pulled them along. 

A short time later, they stepped off and were floored by what they saw. Sitting on platform 42A was a mess of a ship. In its pristine condition, the freighter would look like a flying rectangle parked on its thin long side with one drive thruster on both sides of the ship. The cockpit sat high at the front and below that were the sparse living accommodation below it. Two modular weapon hardpoints were visible on the thin dorsal side. The rear section housed the airlock and docking ramp. It had a cheery blue and gold paint scheme with a ‘Happy Trails’ logo of the now defunct transport company. 

As the siblings circled the vessel and then searched within it they found that the cockpit had been ventilated. There was only unrecognizable mangled metal where the two weapons should have been. Dozens of cannon holes had over-penetrated from one side to the other. The ramp had been cut open by a pirate’s handheld plasma torch.  The transponder had taken a direct hit. Even the registry number and printed name had been deliberately cut away with some pirate graffiti around the removed section as if to spite the poor vessel.

After mentally assessing all the damage, Wiggly tapped her brother’s shoulder. He had been busy plugging into the computer, and investigating matters on that end. “Any luck in there?”

Pulling the connector out of the console and allowing it to spool back into his neck, Live Wire shook his head. “Storage and the CPUs’ were fried, likely by prolonged exposure to solar radiation, but I got good returns on most everything else. I could pilot the thing so long as I’m using my own gray matter, but this rust bucket is dead the moment I unplug.  ‘Course, I’d need to find the software first, and figure out how to actually fly second.” He sighed while looking up first at the flight controls ruined first by the attack, and then by hard vacuum.  “There’s no way this thing is ever going to look pretty.”

“Says you!” Sprocket twirled in the tight confines on the vessel’s hallway behind the cockpit.  “Just you wait and see, once I get all the important stuff in working order, we can decorate to our hearts content.”

“Can you fix it?”  Wire pulled himself back to his hooves and fixed her with a half desperate half hopeful look. “Because we’re not exactly flush with funds ya know.”

“If we want to do it down and dirty, and we’re going to have to if we want outta here in nine days, I can do it.”  Wiggly ran a hoof along that chipped and cracked plastic paneling along the wall. “We can afford enough slap patches to keep the living quarters air tight, along with making sure we don’t suffer any leaks in the tanks or feed lines. The rest we can fix out in the midnight sea.”  A massive toothy grin cleaved her maw at the prospect of fixing it all. “So that just leaves your end.”

“Damn I wish I had your enthusiasm for all this.” Try as he might, Live Wire was stuck with the situation.  Not that he had any real love for his old job or dormitory, but there was a sense of stability he knew he’d miss.  “My buddy Circuit Break owes me a favor, so I can get a license for the SAI to write me a control program on the cheap.  As for piloting…”

He drew a blank, making Wiggly do the same for a time.  Eventually a thought struck her.  Wiggly slid up to Wire’s side with a sultry look that made him instant suspicious.  “Why not ask your maaarrrefriend?  She’s a pilot.” 

“She’s on rotation with the Rainbow Dash.”  He eyed her with annoyance at how strongly she was giving him comically romantic eye flutters. “So she’s a no go.”

“Bull.”  Wiggly cut the act to be serious. “Come on, I know how you cyborgs are. You spend your nights in her private lobby doing unspeakable things to each other.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong,” Wire retorted with the certainty of truth behind him.  “Navy ships have a total blackout on personal messaging or mingling like that. I’d have to send a message the old fashioned way if I want her to see it.”  He recoiled a bit at the flat stare she gave him. “Okay, okay, I’ll send a message. But there’s no guarantee Winter Gale will receive it any time soon.”

Loosing up, Wiggly made for the ladder to grab her list of supplies. “Then you probably should get the SAI to include a simulator with your flight program.”

Live Wire followed after her, and called out as Sprocket stepped off at the bottom. “Just tell me this: do you really think we can do this?  We’ve been stationbound our whole lives. We’ve never even been on a shuttle.”

“You want my answer or a real answer?”

Rubbing his eyes as the day’s fatigue and hunger dragged at him. “Your answer actually.”

Flashing a winning smile, Wiggly flared her wings, only to be hemmed in by the confines of the walkway. Not that she let that deter her excitement. “Not only can we do this, but we’ll be famous. I can feel it!”
> 2: Cutting Your Teeth
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A week went by as Wiggly Sprocket worked feverishly on getting her new home shipshape.  Between borrowing money from friends and stretching the definition of spaceworthy,  Wiggly Sprocket stood on the docking platform overlooking her new ship with pride.  

The same could not quite be said with Live Wire.  He swallowed his disgust long enough to continue his clerk job by day, and spending time with his marefriend Winter Gale at night to learn how to be a pilot.  To say he was now left little more than a groggy mess would be too kind.  Nevertheless, as his father would say...  Keep a straight back and a stiff chin.  Today made that advise a struggle to abide.  “So tell me again why you claim we’re ready to go when I still see holes in the hull?”

Getting a bit defensive, Wiggly grumbled at him with a stink eye.  “Look, clown, we had three choices: it looks pretty and we end up in ruinous debt, ugly but flyable, or neither.  I tell ya, the choice wasn’t hard for me.”

Letting off a sheepish laugh, Wire waved a hoof placatingly.  “Alright, I get ya, I get ya.  ‘S not like I had any real hope we’d get that new ship smell, but I was at least hoping you’d have to open a hatch to see inside.”

Wiggly sauntered over to the cut away section that used to be the freighter’s name and started to step inside.  “Just think of it as extra windows.  Besides, don’t worry so much. Once we get to our first wreck, I can start welding pieces to the hull.”  She fully stepped inside, and then turned around to poke her head out.  “Come on, you’ve crashed with Sparky all week. Check out our bunks!  Hurry, you’re going to love it!”

Moved by Wiggly’s sheer joy and enthusiasm, Live Wire cracked a smile of his own and followed after her. However, he barely took a single step inside the front end of the cargo hold to see a difference.  The paint along the walls was clean and fresh. Cargo netting was neatly stowed away, and enough of the internal lights worked to avoid walking into things. Looks like she thought this through. We’ll be able to secure a lot of smaller bits until we can afford actual containers.

“Who did the paint?”  Wire gingerly touched the pearly white paint to ensure it was dry before running his hoof along the white and gold wall. 

Wiggly stuck her head out from the forward hallway with her signature grin anytime she did something he approved of. “You like it? When Coral heard I was quitting because of our situation, she insisted she got to paint something on it. Given how bad everything was, I may have made a bit of a mistake to tell her to go all out.  I did manage to talk her into doing the forward sections and the cargo bay in traditional Canterlot colors. You remember her right?”

“Isn’t she that insane friend from work that acts like she eats batteries?”

“Acts?” Wiggly led with faux surprise. “She’s more ‘borg than pony so she probably does for real. Now come on, there was one other super special thing I asked of her!”

Following her, Wire took note of the increasingly artistic reinterpretation of proper ship painting. Gold swirls and stars started populating the marble white walls and ceiling. Soon, little goldened ponies and starships in scattered unrelated scenes ranging from picnics to space operas. 

By the time they got to the quarters, there was more gold than white on the walls. The paintings were highly stylized, but it was all pleasing to the eye. At last, Wiggly all but dragged him to stand in front of their quarters. It was here, three feet from each adjacent door that the artistry stopped with only marble white remaining. 

He eyed it all with a sly grin. “Let me guess.  Coral started here and then went wildcat after realizing she was working for you and not some corporation?”

“Not quite.  She wanted some, and I quote, ‘suspense’.”  Sprocket tapped the wall button and his door slid open. The room was smaller than his quarters on the station, yet at the same time was more spacious thanks to not housing a bathroom or kitchenette. 

But it was not the extra leg room, larger cargo net hammock, or even actual drawers that stole his breath. Oh no, it was the fully colored and photo-realistic recreation of the midday interior of Trireme’s drum back before the war. The curvature of the ceiling replicated the drum, and it was all from a hauntingly familiar angle. 

Nostalgia smacked him in the jaw so hard a tear formed. Wire slowly stepped inside while Sprocket kept her eyes on him and his gaze, looking for both recognition and approval. “Come on, lay down to get the best angle.”  She wedged herself past him and pulled the hammock open for Wire. 

Blinking away that tear and covering it up with a playful smile. “Alright, alright.”  Throwing himself onto the hammock, Wiggly giggled and jumped in after him, rocking them both about. Looking up at the ceiling stole Wire’s breath. It was only now that the picture was complete. It wasn’t just a random snippet from the drum. 

“You remember all those days we used to look up from your parents’ rooftop?”  Gone was Wiggly’s cheer, instead solemn grief colored her words.  She leaned her head onto his, trying to relive those faded memories. 

Wire found himself unable to trust his voice. They had been too young to understand the war. Those summer days were spent on the roof to escape their parents’ fearful conversations about the conflict. He had not felt real happiness since the drum was destroyed. 

Now though… He wanted to thank her, but couldn’t bring himself to speak for fear of his voice cracking horribly. His tears betrayed him all the same. Yet Wiggly purposely did not look once it was clear he wasn’t speaking to save him that little bit of embarrassment. So instead they held each other, pretending to be on that rooftop once more. 

After a spell, he had wanted to ask how Coral painted it all, how much it actually cost, or where Wiggly got the holo-photo to recreate it. Instead he did the only thing he could. “Thank you, Wiggs.  It already feels like home.”






Late the next day, Wiggly Sprocket and Live Wire were preparing the ship to leave. The final checks were done, and enough lights were green that the freighter was able to crawl its way into a low hover. 

While Wiggly watched everything like a hawk on the lower deck, Wire was tethered to the wall just outside of the cockpit. The canopy was still missing, so he was forced to plug himself into a cable running from the cockpit to mentally command the freighter. Routing it through a wall mounted datajack had proven impossible with their budget, so he was forced to roll a cable from the cockpit through the door and into the hallway. Sealant foam was all that stood between him and hard vacuum. He also dragged a foam mat over so he had something soft to lean into during acceleration. Now that they were going to be underway, he would have to practically live in this claustrophobic hallway lest the ship fall out of control. 

He tried not to think about it and focused on the sheer amount of readouts and controls. It had taken a while to get a handle on it, even if it was all in his mind. Wire wasn’t going to try anything fancy. Winter Gale may be a great pilot, but she was a poor instructor. He at least trusted the autopilot could handle most things. Presently though, he was on call with the on-duty flight controller trying to just get out of the door. “I told you, we haven’t been able to buy a new transponder.  Do you know how much those things cost?”

“I don’t see how that’s my problem,” the controller retorted firmly. “No vessel is authorized to take off or return without an active transponder.”

Putting on his best customer service façade, Wire tried again. “I perfectly understand your position, sir. But perhaps we can reach a compromise. “If you let us leave and come back with a working transponder, we’ll cut Trireme a discount on what we bring back. Say… fifteen percent?”

The controller went quiet at first before relying on a dangerous tone. “Are you attempting to bribe an official?”

Fully prepared for that, Wire let off a dismissive laugh. “Not at all, sir. All I’m saying is that Trireme knows how important salvagers are. If you report this discount, I’m sure Trireme will reward you.  We get to fix our unfortunate issue, and you get an above board reward from management.”

The controller went quiet and brooded for a spell. Every second made Wire increasingly hopeful. “Half. You want me to bend the rules, you make it worth both management’s and my worthwhile.”

Wire was incensed by the demand, but he managed to hide it behind a winning smile. “Half it is. Of our first haul.”

A side-smirk played on the controller’s muzzle. “Very good. I’ll go ahead and tell the defense commander to ignore your departure. But I won’t bother if you come back without a transponder.”

With that, the controller ended the call. The freighter reported to Live Wire that station control was demanding the engines to idle. Sighing in thread bare relief, he complied and sent the acknowledgement signal. Within moments tractor beams removed them from the dockyard and would soon be shoving them clear of Trireme. 

As he waited for control to be returned to him, Wire slumped against his mat as the beams pushed them along. He looked up at the dim lights in the hallway. He idly observed the cockpit door next to him. What a mess.

A new call sprang up in his vision, one that brought more joy. He answered his sister with a more genuine smile. “Heyya, Sprocket.”  As a fully natural pony, Wiggly’s face was being transmitted by her console’s camera. He could tell she had just recovered from squealing for joy. 

“We did it!  We finally did it!  We’re real spacers now!”  She spun in place, which was quite a feat in the narrow confines of the engineering terminal. “What did you tell them to let us go?!  I thought for sure I’d have to fake a reactor leak or something.”

“Oh just half of our first haul,” he stated, trying to downplay it. He saw the outraged tirade coming as her eyes hardened. “But hey, it’s just one haul. We’re flying, that’s all that matters, right?.”

It took serious effort for Wiggly to swallow her anger. Ultimately, she knew it would only upset Live Wire, and she could just scream into a pillow later. “You’re right. Totally right. We’ll live like alicorns in a matter of months.”  Having shaken off enough animosity, she rubbed her hooves with anticipation. “So, we’re going after our first mark, right?”

“That’s the master plan.”

After the siblings had registered as salvagers, they had been given the latest map of known wreckage courtesy of the Rainbow Dash and her fighter patrols. Presently, the dead stations were still hot places for quality salvage, and were regularly patrolled by both the navy and pirates. But even the siblings knew the lack of a transponder was a death sentence if the navy spotted them. They wouldn’t even be hailed, simply shot first and not even be scanned for survivors. 

So they had to start small. Wire pulled up the map and checked around. Calculating both fuel and water consumption, he found a good start. “There’s a blip not too far from here. No pony knows what it is, but it’s the size of a shuttle.”

“Great!  I’ll be ready for it.”  

The freighter lurched a bit, rocking Wire in place. Flashing before his eyes, his mental control panel read green. “We’re free of station control. Hold onto your socks, I’ve Ah - this is my first real go of it.”

Letting the computer work up a flight path, Live Wire activated the travel drive, and made for their very first derelict. 





Even with the travel drive achieving a few percentages of light speed, it took them well over a week to reach the first wreck. Upon arrival, Live Wire brought the freighter in close to a sorry sight. What had once been a passenger shuttle was a few chunks of broken wreckage with small flecks of metal or plastic drifting about. The freighter used to have several floodlights, but only one still functioned, so he directed it at the remains of the shuttle.  The wreckage was even worse after being illuminated. Not only had its reactor exploded, but lately entry cuts. Be it pirates or scavengers, the shuttle was little more than a mass of broken metal. 

“What do you think, Wiggly?”

His sister was already in her pressure suit and was getting ready to leave via the hole where the freighter’s name used to be. She couldn’t afford a proper space suit, so she had to tether her pressure suit to an oxygen cable from inside the freighter. “I’ll know in a bit.”

With Wire being forced to remain physically plugged into the flight controls, Wiggly struggled to safely unfurl her lifeline through the open cut. Grunts and small curses escaped her lips until she finally managed to step up to the exit and look at the wreckage properly. Her years at the breaker yards did not paint a pretty picture. 

“I’ll have to scan it, but I can already see the damage is pretty bad. I’d put money on the whole electrical system being burned out, so a transponder would be a long shot. I don’t think we’ll be getting much more than metal from this one.”

“Do you want to try anyway, or move on?”

Rolling her neck and psyching herself up, Wiggly spread her wings and gently pushed off. “We’re already here. Even if all we get is metal, I can still patch the hull.”

And over the next several hours, that is exactly what she did. With both scanner and cutter in hoof, Wiggly measured each hole in the freighter twice, then cut the shuttle once. Wire kept the freighter on minimal power, just enough to keep the heat and oxygen running. 

For the first hole, Wiggly carefully placed the hull piece into the hole and switched her cutter’s beam. Instead of rapidly slicing the metal, it acted like a welder. Thankfully, her pressure suit protected her eyes until the task was done. A massive, toothy grin cleaved her muzzle as she brushed her work with a boot. The weld was ugly to the eye, but her scanner claimed it would hold just as well as if the hull had never been damaged. 

“I’m doing it.”  Tears of joy flooded her eyes as she admired her work. It was like she had been chained to a wall her whole life and she was finally cut free. “I get to fix something! To really fix it.”  She hugged herself with her wings, trying to blink her tears away. 







Live Wire groggily woke up from a nap only to jump in fright at seeing the cockpit door wide open. “Sweet Celestia!” He frantically tried to mentally close it, only to hear Wiggly giggling madly. 

He stopped, and actually looked into the cockpit. Instead of being open to the void, a new canopy was present. Jagged weld lines were present all throughout, giving it the look of cracked glass. 

Sprocket had been leaning back in the chair, and had turned around upon hearing him shriek. “Like what I’ve done with the place?”

Live Wire dumbly backed away as the seat extended towards him, allowing Wiggly to get off. “You found a - how long was I asleep? How did I sleep through all this?”

“After we finished talking? Eight hours. As for how, you’ve been mostly awake for a week. You needed a nap at the very least.”  Wiggly kept jerking her head towards the seat so he would take it. Yet Wire was still recovering and didn’t take the hints. “Me though? I couldn’t sleep, I was on a roll.”  Dark circles were under her eyes and her sweat stained mane and fur was a complete mess. The euphoric mare was subsisting on little more than excitement and a single pack of vat-grown fish paste. 

Live Wire finally caught on to her insistences, only to tease her and instead squeezed his head and neck past the seat to inspect her work. “Was the shuttle in such bad shape all you found were pieces of the canopy?”

“Sadly enough, yeah. But hey, I got all the holes patched, except for the back ramp and name panel, so we can finally pressurize the forward sections.” She resorted to patting the extended cockpit seat with a hoof, and was too distracted and tired to realize he was playing with her. 

Pulling himself back into the hallway and coming to a stop above his original spot, he earned a supremely exasperated scowl from Sprocket.  Wire went about filling the repaired sections with atmosphere.  “It’ll be nice to have more than a three by ten hallway to look at from here on out. Coral’s art is great and all, but I can only stare at the same scene for so long.”

Sprocket rounded on him and gave him a stink eye he feigned ignorance of.  “She did get a bit carried away. But hey, you can get a great view from the cockpit.”

Wire took a long look at the seat in question, mostly so he could grin without her seeing his face, and then turned back to his sister.  “I don’t know, I kinda like just floating about.  Who needs a cockpit anyway when I can just plug myself in out here?”

Finally cluing in on his teasing, Wiggly pounced him, and play-bit his ear with an exaggerated growl like a character in an old show.  “You are going in that chair, mister!”

Dramatically overplaying the pain, Wire tried to pull free.  “Oww!  You’re going to pull my cable out if you keep that up.  We’ll spin out of control!

Sprocket spread her wings to partially stabilize their movement.  “You can just put the ship on standby, don’t give me that!”

“You’ll never take me alive!” he challenged with a quick jerk that got his ear free as she tried to speak again.  “Captain Proton will never surrender!”

Fully getting into the act, Wiggly wrestled with him just strongly enough to try and get him to remove the cable from behind his ear before she could go all out.  “You are in no position to stop me now, Captain Prrrroton!  Queen Arachnia has caught you in her dastardly web!”

A single alert flag from the ship was all Live Wire noticed before the lights went out.  The wrestling came to an abrupt halt as the siblings looked up.  The hum from the reactor stopped, and the muffled hiss of maneuvering thrusters pushed them both against the wall and started to slowly spin the freighter as it moved away from the wreckage.  The thrusters cut off shortly thereafter.

“Wire, what’s going on!?”  Sprocket felt a frightful chill crawl down her spine as red emergency lights winked on.  She was still hugging him out of protective fear.

Gathering his wits, Wire quickly saw the issue.  “Passive sensors detected a return that didn’t have a transponder signal with it.  I set up a panic alert just in case this happened. It’s supposed to make us look like just another derelict.”

Baring their own situation, that only meant one thing in their eyes: pirates.  Wiggly pushed herself over to the pilot’s seat and clung onto it to try and look outside.  Wire held onto a railing in the hallway to keep from getting jostled about.  “Do you think they saw us?  Our speakers aren’t blaring that warcry of theirs.”

Wire kept his eyes closed, as it made it easier to focus on what the ship’s sensors were showing him.  “Didn’t know our speakers even worked.”  The faint blip of color on the thermal sensor kept moving perpendicular to them at great speed.  Wire had no idea how to gauge size or distance as his control suite was threadbare at best.  His tense expression as the small signature flew past them only made his sister sweat that much harder.

“Wirrrre?”

Blinking, he let go of the breath he was holding.  “I think we’re good.  Whoever they were, they either didn’t see us or care enough to bother.”

Exhaling hard enough to float up to the ceiling, Sprocket gazed down at her brother who was just as relieved.  “Okay, as good as it was to patch up the hull, we need to replace our weapons.”

“Assuming we can find any that would work for us, and that you could mount it with no equipment, and we find ammunition, I don’t know the first thing about making fire control software.” 

Rubbing her chin in thought for a short while, Sprocket spread her wings once more to float into the middle of the hallway.  Her brother went about correcting the spin and bringing the reactor back online.  “We may not know how, but the navy does.  I bet the Rainbow Dash has plenty of coders who can help us.”

“I’m sure they do, but why would they help us?  Winter Gale is a pilot, not the captain, we can’t just stroll up and say ‘hi can we have some software?’.”

“No… but…”  Wiggly Sprocket developed an inspired grin.  “If we make it worth their while, I’m sure the Navy would be more than happy to help arm us.  Look on the map and see where the closest battlefield was.” 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Wire asked with growing worry.  “Winter once said the navy mined battle areas before and after combat.  Tractor mines are no joke.”

“You mean the Starhold Mark eighteens?” Wiggly replied with a smug grin.  “I was given a few of those nasty things, but a breaker doesn’t get to choose which job you get.  We just cut it and be grateful.”

“That sorta thing wouldn’t fly if we were still linked with the wider Initiative.” Wire shook his head at the idea of a cutting beam going anywhere near a mine.  “But at least those you cut were deactivated.”

“True.”  Wiggly tapped her toolbelt.  “But you’d be surprised just how much my scanner picks up when you jailbreak it.  Such as the method of detection.  I can get us past the mines if you can get us there.”

Live Wire gave her a look of unfathomable disbelief.  “You’re kidding.”  A pause did not see her expression change.  “You have to be kidding.”  Still no change.  “By Terra you’re not kidding…”
> 3: Sword Fall
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Drifting above the middle of the inner asteroid belt sat a lone two-seat fighter. It was sizable at roughly a hundred feet long and it’s hard points brought it’s beam to sixty feet. Multiple small cuts existed on its hull, save for the painted symbol of the Initiative. The white, purple, and pink busts of three mares remained crisp and vibrant. 

Winter Gale yawned tiredly as her duty shift dragged on. Even the heavy base music wasn’t enough to keep the thestral’s eyes wide open. So she resorted to sucking down a coffee packet and crumbless crackers. The navy had invested much into her, as it did for all pilots. She looked natural, save for fine contours and patches of fur that were artificial if one knew where to look. All told, half of her body was synthetic. 

Her earth pony copilot was humming a sea shanty commonly sung on the Rainbow Dash  as he continued to observe dozens of sensors and readings. The fighter was a nexus for a multitude of surveillance probes keeping an eye out for any sign of pirate activity. So far, the last twenty hours proved to be mind numbingly boring, as were the last three weeks.  

“I’m telling you, Jerrycan, we scared the Cennies from coming back this way for at least another two months. We should be stationed around Ganymede.”  Winter’s out of the blue comment compelled her copilot to cut the music and replay her words so he could understand it. 

“Oh quit whining and use the downtime to do a hobby.”  Though his words were biting, his tone was nonchalant. 

Fussing in her seat, Winter chewed on her straw for a bit. “Unlike your lazy tail, my hobbies can’t be done in the cockpit.”

Jerrycan opened a small compartment next to the controls to reveal a bag of mixed fruits and nuts courtesy of the colony.  He downed a few and used his cybercomm to talk. “Just means I’ll be free to listen to the news.  Did you know there was a parasite scandal with the pig farms?”

Rolling her eyes, Winter shoved the empty coffee pouch into a built-in disposal chute. She slouched in her seat as much as it allowed. “Oh no, pig parasites on a xeno world, who would have guessed.  I’d rather shoot something, not waste brain cells on this. Just avoid pork chops for a few months until everything is cleaned up.”

Jerrycan was quiet for a few moments before speaking again in his casual manner. “See that’s the difference between you and me. I can ‘shoot’ all I want on the forums. You gotta follow engagement rules,” he ended with a smug tone. “Did you know that I started the rumor that the Slit Neck pirates are actually led by a Breezie?”  Winter craned her neck to look at the cackling stallion. “It got so bad, some of the actual pirates outed themselves to deny it!”

“Pretty sure I’m the one who gave you that idea.  You just hijacked it after it wasn’t funny anymore.”

Shrugging helplessly, Jerrycan mentally brushed his newsfeeds away to focus on her. “Oh believe me, it’s still funny.  Just imagine a murderous Breezie with three toothpick legs yelling blood and murder from a birdcage of a captain’s chair.”

His deep laughter was infectious, causing Winter’s lips to twitch up, which only annoyed her. “How can I not?  You still have that as your avatar in Spacers. Seriously, Jerry, you need to know when to hold back, let ponies calm down and recharge. Life has a way of delivering the jokes right to you.”

“Are you trying to get philosophical on me, Winter?”

“Ha!  The only deep thoughts you’re capable of is how you’re going to find the next tail.”

“It’s worked for me so far.”  Jerrycan grabbed a smoker pen and took a long drag, and spoke while exhaling, and blew a cloud that could vaguely resemble a ring. The smoke was rapidly drawn away by the vents, clearing the air before the smell could reach Winter. “Speaking of tail. If things don’t work out with Live Wire-”

Before he could get another word out, Winter jerked the controls into a spin. The dampeners kicked in, so Jerrycan was only jostled, but it was enough of a suprise to make him choke on his smoke. 

Blinking tears, Jerrycan coughed and hacked for close to a minute. The stupid grin he wore never left. “Don’t know how that Live Wire guy can handle you. Must be because all your visits are in ghost-space.”

Getting a bit defensive, Winter Gale huffed. “I’ve met him in meatspace. Wire’s real.”

“If you say so.”  Jerrycan tilted his head as new jabs crept into his mind. “Personally I think that-” Jerrycan stopped short as something on his screens caught his eye. He replayed the event a few times, and took a second quiet drag of his pen. 

The sudden silence worried Winter and she grew tense.  She studied her own scopes for threats, wary that no alarms sounded. “What is it?”

“Thought I caught a drive burn in sector J12. But it could have been anything.”

Fretful excitement spurred Winter Gale’s curiosity as she brought the feed up on her own displays. “J12… That’s outside of our duty area. How did you even see anything through Sword Fall?”

Sword Fall was a sizable ship graveyard.  A swath of space that began below the inner asteroid belt, but time and gravity had dragged it partially into the belt itself. Winter’s map revealed the graveyard sat in between the probe and the heat signature. Jerrycan’s delayed reply prompted Winter to continue. “Could have been some antimatter slipping containment that was actually much closer.”

Slowly wagging his head back and forth, Jerrycan internally debated the idea. “Could be. I’ll flag it and see if something pops up again.”

With nothing else of note, Winter Gale settled back into her seat to contemplate the latest show she was watching. That is until a niggling thought kept bothering her. I told Live Wire about the mines right?  Yeah, I know I did. Her eye moved back to the thermal blip. He’s not dumb enough to risk it. Yeah, they’re fine. Stop worrying about it. 





Wiggly Sprocket felt the lurch as Wire cut the travel drive. Wire darkened the engines and started slowing using the maneuvering thrusters to cut their speed according to Wiggly’s plan. A buoy blinked in the distance with a repeating warning about the mines filled the radio. “Are you sure this is going to work?”

Sprocket was neck deep into the guts of the central power distributor.  Being largely immune to the electrical discharges of her work, the pegacorn knew her plan had to be precise and it was taking longer than she thought. Not that she wanted to tell that to her brother. He’s already an inch from turning around and forgetting the whole plan.

“Wiggly, if you actually die from a shock I’ll find a way to reverse haunt you.”

The comment made her grit her teeth with the time crunch approaching. “As if that can actually happen.  Don’t worry about it. We just need to match the mines’ frequency and we’ll be good.”  A large arc of electricity ran from the wiring and across her belly. The shock that would kill most other tribes only caused her to squirm and wiggle as if she was being tickled. Yet at the same time, the burning jumpsuit only made it more distracting.

Wire’s voice over the radio grew more desperate. “Wiggs, radar’s picking up the mines.”

The news forced her to ignore the light burn on her chest and stomach to focus on her efforts.  “Good, what LiDAR frequency are we getting from the closest one?”  Her scanner was linked into multiple wires and it was awaiting input.

A panicky “uhh” precipitated a number appearing on Wiggly’s scanner. “Please hurry!”

Wiggly studied the reading and quickly made the corrections to her work. “Aaannddd…”

“Wiggs,” her brother called with a crescendo of fear. Multiple mines were lighting up, and his virtual hoof was hovering over the reverse command. “Are we good or not?!”

Sweating from the heat and stress, Wiggly was having difficulty getting the frequency just right as it was something her scanner wasn’t made for.  “Just a second!”

The freighter shook violently, shoving Live Wire into the wall. Wiggly cried out and was slammed into the nest of wires. Two mines grabbed onto the freighter with tractor beams and started pulling themselves towards the interloper.

Frozen by fear, Wire saw the hull buckle from the force of the tractor beams. “I’m getting us out of here!” 

Before he could reactivate the engines, the tractor beams proved too strong for the hull plating and large chunks were ripped off the side. The two mines collided with the pieces and detonated in a blinding flash. The force of the removal threw him into the wall again, nearly pulling the control cable out of him.  

Sprocket pressed the command into her scanner. “There!”

The closest mines winked off.  The next ones that were about to grab the freighter stopped short. Then much to Wire’s astonishment, the midnight sea was dark once more. Wire went limp as terror slowly bled out of him. “What did you do, again?”

Wiggly sagged in relief, letting the gentle acceleration press her into the struts nearby.  Not yet fully comprehending how much damage was done. She was more euphoric than her brother. “The mines don’t use radio signals for identification, only laser light.  Since the distribution hub is one of the few places we still have a working cogitator, I turned our running lights into an IFF return.  When we were given mines, the navy let it slip they came from multiple graveyards, and after a little sniffing around I found out they all had the same IFF return.  So long as you don’t mess with the power output of the refrigerator and sewage processor, or use the travel drive, we should look like just another mine to the network.”

Wire couldn’t speak as he eyed a mine as they coasted by it. The fact that they were being ignored still wasn’t sitting right. “Wiggly, you’re going to get us killed one day.”

“Don’t worry so much, I got us here, didn’t I?”  Sprocket pushed herself away from the hub only to finally see the large charred gash in her blue jumpsuit.  “Awww come on, this was my favorite jumper!”  Scowling as she disrobed, she kept one eye on the screen she had dragged herself over to look outside the freighter. “Quite the viper’s nest.  She stopped short after finally seeing the damage alert on a wall screen. She let out a shell shocked whistle. “By Luna’s stars. If it had grabbed us just three feet or to the right it would have ripped the port engine off.”  Cringing with a cold sweat, Wiggly huddled around the screen to give commands to shut off various pipes and withdraw whatever atmosphere was left in adjacent rooms that had poor seals.  Fully assessing the damage would have to be done from the outside. 

Still trying to calm his racing heart, Live Wire didn’t want to look at the damage reports flashing in the corner of his eye. “How bad is it?”

“The cargo bay has two new windows in them.  If my math is right… you want the good news or the bad news?”

“Go ahead and traumatize me further with the bad news.”

Rattling from the bulkhead was starting to get worryingly bad.  “I would cut the thrusters. We’ll shake apart if you don’t stop soon.”

“Oh lovely.  So we’re stuck drifting along until we crash into something?”

“Psh, no. I can patch us up enough with a little time and the spare pieces I kept from the shuttle. Give me a few hours and I’ll have us stable enough to move.”  She was already pulling herself to the airlock where she kept her pressure suit. “As for the travel drive… well, like I said, the mines wouldn’t be happy if we used it so that’s kinda moot.”  

He opted to not ask too many questions. If I do, I’d probably freak out at how flimsy our disguise is or how truly bad the damage is. The ignored damage alerts still blinked in the corner of his eye. Trusting Wiggly to have the issue under control, he squelched the alerts. Taking several minutes to calm down, he found something close to peace before speaking up. “Well you got us here. Where to first?”

Still sore about losing her clothes and at being too slow with the minefield, Wiggly was in the middle of donning her suit. “Look for the biggest ship you can find. A pony one preferably. The Navy will thank us for returning any idents we find. Plus I can find all sorts of things in a cruiser.”

“Sure.”  Wire exhaled the last of the stress he could rid himself of.  He pulled himself together and studied the sensor returns. Finding potential targets was hardly a challenge. The differences between Initiative and Centauri warships were stark even to his untrained eye. Pony ships were warships first and works of art second. Gentle curves and smooth lines were a staple. Oftentimes, sensor protrusions, shield emitters, and ablative armor sat on ribbons that ran a meter or so off the hull. Centauri warships were much lighter on armor for maneuverability, and were sleek and highly polished for energy weapon deflection.  The ribbons made Wire’s job easy and he guided the freighter on a new course.  





Using only maneuvering thrusters to move along, it took them nearly a week to fully enter the graveyard. 

What laid before him was a truly vast cloud of Centuari wreckage encompassing a pony flotilla. Hundreds of shattered strikecraft, a handful of ruined Initiative destroyers and two cruisers flanked the broken remains of a fleet carrier.  Wire was left in awe of the sheer devastation.   “Of all the graveyards we could have gone to, we ended up here.  You want me to put you near the biggest hull breach?”

Wiggly wolfed her lunch down and shook herself to loosen up before heading to the suit locker. “Nah, see if you can find escape pods that didn’t launch. If the pod is there, then an actual proper space suit should be close by.”

The idea worried Live Wire, but not exactly for his sister’s safety. I hope she can handle what she’ll find.

Wire slowed their approach as he made the final approach to their quarry, the original flagship of Phoenix Fleet, The Sword of the Stars. The once majestic vessel stretched for just under two kilometers long and had lasted long after its escorts had been sundered. The mighty vessel had to be stripped of all strike craft, and blasted into four pieces before its guns had fallen silent. Such was pony redundancy and damage control that the Centauri were forced to batter the engineering section into two pieces before it was over.  Sitting in between all four pieces was a pair of modified tractor mines designed more to keep the graveyard intact as opposed to destroying unwelcome guests.  

Wire brought the freighter to a stop next to a hole that was large enough to fly into. He visually scanned the hull, trying to decipher between impact craters and missing escape pods. Thankfully escape pods were pretty uniform among the civilian and military fleets, so he knew what to look for. “There we are.”

He sent a highlighted image to his sister where one escape pod was still in place next to an empty socket. She was running final checks on her pressure suit when she spotted it on a screen. “Perfect, bring us as close as you can.”

Wire hesitated for a bit as his eyes drank in the sheer immensity of the Sword of the Stars. “…Wiggly, should we really be doing this?  It’s the flagship of all things. The prince died here. Maybe we should let the Navy take this when they have a chance.”

Sprocket stood at the airlock and watched her chosen entry point grow closer. Gone was her excitement to repair her home. She tried to keep herself in good cheer, recalling happy memories between herself and Wire. Yet her efforts came crashing down when the freighter passed by a defense turret and the barrel moved directly in front of her view. Her mind shot back to that day her world died. Alarms, fire, the hurricane of the drum’s atmosphere escaping. Sprocket began hyperventilating as the images came faster now. She cradled her head with both wings, trying in vain to banish the waking nightmare. 

In her mind she felt her father throwing her into the life pod. She banged on the glass, watching with fresh tears as fires engulfed him. Her smaller body was thrown around the tight pod. When it stopped, she rushed back to the window, praying to see her father standing there safe and sound. What was waiting for her was a crippled Centauri fighter. She could still see the pilot’s snarling helmet.  The central railgun locked onto her, a final act of defiance before his death. Lightning arced between the rails and her world slowed to a crawl. 

Wiggly couldn’t escape the nightmare, not even Wire’s worried calls could break the spell. 

She could hear it now. The frightful music that all centauri infected pony systems with during an attack. The drums and chanting could not drown out Wiggly’s heart beating in her ears as the railgun charged to fire. She couldn’t look away, not then and not now. 

In twin ribbons of fire, the Centuari was torn apart before her eyes, the railgun was jerked aside as it lit off. Though it was barely a scant second, Wiggly could see her savior fly past her: an Initiative interceptor. 

And like that, the spell was over. Wiggly dropped to her belly as tears streamed down her face and terror gripped her heart. She pulled herself away from the window trying to banish the waking nightmare. 

Her brother was frantic on the radio. “Breathe, Wiggly, slow and steady.”  He dearly wished he could hold her, but distance robbed him of that. 

Wire repeated his advice, over and over with care. Wiggly squeezed her eyes shut to focus on where she was. “I’m fine, I’m okay. I’m fine, I’m okay.”  With each breath and words of encouragement from Wire, Wiggly’s heart slowed down bit by bit. 

The tears ran out, and her breathing sluggishly returned to normal. Wiggly yanked her helmet off and threw it aside in order to rub her head, partially to dry her fur and partially to stretch her face. “I’m good, Wire.”  She shakily climbed to her hooves, and looked around to where she dropped her helmet. 

“Are you sure?  We can wait a while and get some rest.”

Shaking herself, Wiggly donned her helmet and sealed it. “I can, but you can’t. Not so long as you’re the brain of the ship. I just - I just need to… Be ready this time.”  Working on instinct, Wiggly attached the umbilical cable to her suit and psyched herself up. “I can take a break when you can.”

“Just be careful out there.”

Taking one last deep breath, Wiggly slapped the cycle button. She hefted her tools and a single power pack. The door yawned open and the looming capital ship awaited her.  Spreading her wings, Sprocket sped towards her destination. Wire had placed them quite close to the Sword’s airlock. 

With the power out, Sprocket pulled the power pack off and placed it near the airlock controls. A few button presses later, and the controls blinked on. She hit the manual override button which triggered a security alert. It was a common security measure, and she knew it would release the lock once the absent security manager did not reply. 

Sure enough, the hoof crank pushed out right on time. Using her wings to offer resistance, she cranked the doors wide open until they locked into place. Retrieving her power pack, she repeated the maneuver for the inner door. 

With a final clank, and sweat dripping off the mane plastered on her face, Wiggly got her first look inside. Two suited corpses drifted in the hallway. Litter and loose bits of debris floated around as well. Moving fully inside, the once clean white and silver hallway was dark and foreboding. Destroyed panels and the ruined ceiling were crammed with twisted metal and loosely hanging pipes. Not even the emergency lights were active anymore. 

“Wire, do you know where the ident tags are?”  She gingerly approached the closest body. The chill of the void and the hull protecting it from solar winds left the body well preserved. 

Watching it all from a camera mounted on Sprocket’s helmet, Wire was able to change her HUD and mark things. “Winter said all sailors are implanted with one between the skull and back of the neck on the left side. It should have extended out after death for easy grabbing.”

Wiggly checked the red sailor’s suit and found a pulley tether. Dragging it along, she fastened the body to a wall conveyor before doing the same to the other. Pulling back to look at both of them, Wiggly bowed her head. “May Terra grant you a life of peace and harmony.”

Wire parroted the short prayer before Wiggly went about removing the helmets and locating the idents. The dead faces, frozen by the void, were deeply unsettling. Worried more unwanted memories could surface at any moment, she hastily pocketed both idents before haphazardly replacing the helmets so she couldn’t see them.  Resolving to find a proper bag to store any more idents, she hastily bid a retreat. 

As much as Sprocket wanted a proper space suit, she was not about to take one off a corpse. What she could take however, was the empty oxygen canister off one of them.  Turning around, she grabbed her oxygen tether and found a second socket.  She plugged the tank in to refill it. Glad they standardized a lot of this sort of thing. 

Pulling more slack for her oxygen tether, Wiggly floated towards the closest remaining escape pod. Upon arriving, she found that it had been punctured, and unsuited crew members had suffocated. 

Sitting in between the entryways of two pods, sat an unexpected prize: a suit printer. Provided the sign beside it was accurate. “Oh I’ve heard of these things!  They can make suits to fit the individual.”  Taking her power pack and placing it next to the controls, Wiggly waited for the printer to boot up. After a few minutes of growing concern that the printer had been damaged, a friendly looking touch interface finally appeared close by. 

‘Enter ident’ the readout requested. Sprocket gazed at the two in her hoof and typed in the number from one of them. 

‘Denied. Ensign Cloudy Vision already has a suit checked out from this station. Please return the original suit to the depositor or requisition a new one. Would you like to requisition one?

Wiggly hit the green button. 

Error. Account is unavailable. Please contact administration to rectify the issue. 

“Maybe use an ident from somepony who doesn’t have a suit yet?” Wire offered. 

“Could work.”

Looking back into the pod where a few ponies drifted, Wiggly spotted a mare who only had her uniform on. She went about claiming each pony’s ident before using the mare’s on the printer. 

Ensign Apple Pie. Suit requisition approved. Error.  Dimensions are inaccessible.  Utilizing alternative measures.  Please stand back and flare wings if you have them. 

Wiggly obeyed and a scanning beam shot out and took her measurements from under the pressure suit. Sprocket waited while behind the panel, a standard earth pony suit was modified to accommodate her horn and wings. The power pack was drained considerably, and the printer began to slow towards the end, but the suit was presented to Wiggly before it died on her. 

Claiming the suit, Sprocket admired the quality. Small red armor segments on her chest and flank would project a short lived energy shield, while the black mesh everywhere else was stronger by far to her civilian pressure suit. The silver and red helmet contoured tightly to her face. The single gold stripe with accompanying gold star signified the ensign rank. There was no oxygen tank, so Sprocket clipped the one she found into place. There was only one problem that Wire picked up on first.

“That kind of suit is top notch, probably don’t need the shield out here, but the mesh will at least need power to remain flexible.”

“If you don’t think we’ll need the shield, you clearly haven’t paid attention to how dangerous being a cutter can be. Still though, it’s not like I can put it on over here anyway. I’ll come back over and charge it there.”





After a quick snack and bottle of water, Sprocket returned to the Sword with her new suit. The lack of an umbilical cord was a welcome freedom. “So what should I look for next?”

“Check the wall screens for a map. We need pretty much everything. Food, water, fuel, parts, and salvage.  A new hull,” he added with a sour tone.

“I got us here mostly safe and sound didn’t I?”  Ignoring her brother’s fuming, Wiggly looked about. “You think I might find some good clothes or jewelry?”  Wiggly found a panel and pressed her newly recharged power pack onto it. “I’ve been looking to get some ear studs for years now.”

“What good would that do?” Wire asked with brotherly mirth. “You’re so ugly the jewelry would rust off of you after an hour.”

“You’re just jealous I’m the pretty one between us.”  The panel was badly cracked by a wedge of steel jammed into the left side, but it winked on after a few seconds of power. It wasn’t hard to find the map option. 

Error. Internal sensors are unresponsive. Presenting last known readings. 

Huge sections of the amber map turned red with warning symbols blanketing everything. There was a somber moment for Sprocket. The Sword was so large, she couldn’t see just how deeply broken it was. Yet here in this dispassionate map she saw it all. 

She traced a hoof across the screen. If it wasn’t for the Sword, Trireme wouldn’t have survived. “You did all you could. Rest In peace, honorable one.”

On his end, Live Wire bit his hoof, desperately wishing he could be at his sister’s side to lend her a shoulder. “Wish we could do more.”

Wiggly’s thoughts drifted to the idents she had collected thus far. “Yeah, but we can lend a hoof.”

Clearing her thoughts, Wiggly refocused on the map. She looked for cabins, cargo bays, machine shops… “mess hall!”

It wasn’t too far.  Only three decks down and was listed as intact before all power had been lost. The Sword fell back when we still had contact with the wider Initiative. That means real food!  The very thought of having actual food that she could crunch without it being some kind of cracker or bar banished much of the malaise caused by rooting around the dead.

“Oh wow, if you can find some kind of real meat the whole trip will pay for itself.”  Wire’s stomach grumbled, but Wiggly’s did so enough to travel through the radio.  “How are you always hungry?”

“Mare’s gotta eat too. You may be the pilot, but I’m doing all the physical work.”

“Sure, sure.  Anyway I got the map recorded in my internal storage.  I’ll update your HUD as you go.  Just - ah - don’t try to grab the whole kitchen.  Our fuel situation is only marginally better than our food stocks.”

“Right.  I better get going then.”





The path to the mess hall was a grim and dark affair that took the better part of three hours to navigate the ruined hallways.  With her new suit’s excellent vision however, even her meager flashlight was enough to maneuver around floating debris, collapsed bulkheads, and the ever present dead.  It was the latter that gave her a sense of higher purpose beyond finding void frozen food.  Every ident she gathered along her path was given a moment of silence. Honoring the dead gave her solace in her journey, and made facing them easier.  It was something Wire was just as glad to assist with by offering a short prayer alongside her. 

Her entry into the mess hall was through a six meter sized hole.  Tables and benches were normally mounted to the floor, but the battle had knocked a plethora of them loose in the chamber which could have served several hundred crew members at once.  Projectors on the ceiling used tractor beams to push down on both ponies and food alike to simulate gravity, giving the diners an easier time to eat.  Now though, it was a pitch black room, with only her lonely flashlight offering any sign of life.  The stillness of it all gave Wiggly pause.  The mess hall reminded her of the months and years after the attack on Trireme.  An old gym had been repurposed to be a cafeteria and refugee camp.  

“It looks like Hope Hall,” Wire chimed in, summoning more unwanted memories.  The stench of unwashed ponies huddled together in cramped spaces.  The echoes of sorrow of love and life lost from those around her.  The horn to tail pain from the injuries she suffered during the attack.  But not here.  The mess hall was utterly devoid of the dead.  The empty nexus of fellowship, shared meals, and happiness felt worse than if she had found at least a few crew members.  Idly, Sprocket raised her left booted hoof.  She could still remember seeing all of the shrapnel and scars the glancing railgun shot had given her as her pod was fractured.  Barring a lost limb, scars never touched her tribe for long, and she was no different.  She flexed the joints, scowling at how she could heal so completely, and yet her brother was left maimed.

Wire didn’t care for Sprocket’s silence one bit.  He knew her well enough to realize what she was thinking. “Hey, I’m glad I got messed up.  I’d never have met Winter if I hadn’t qualified for subsidized cyberization.”  He made his voice sound closer to the mic and hot and bothered.  “The things you can do in a lobby with your marefriend, Oh momma.”

Wiggly was instantly shaken out of her thoughts and uselessly covered her ears.  “Nooo, don’t say another word, not from you!”

A devilish grin creeped over Wire’s muzzle as he imagined Wiggly’s red face.  “You feel everything you wanna feel in a lobby.  Every. Single. Touch.”

Wiggly shook her hoof in the freighter’s general direction.  “So help me if you say another word I’ll make sure to find some pears and shove them in your face!”

“Assuming you find any of those nasty things.  So stop moping and keep moving or I’ll project some of my favorite positions on your HUD.  And you need a jack or a pad to access your suit, so you can’t stop me. Hahahaha!”

“Okay okay!”  Wiggly glanced about for the kitchen, and then flew towards it. “You’re evil, you know that.”

“I’m your bro, it’s my job,” he replied with a matter-of-fact tone. 

I am going to shove so many pears down your throat you’ll be tasting them for a week!  Begrudgingly reinvigorated, Wiggly slipped into the kitchen after pulling a thin metal door open.  The kitchen was largely free of clutter as it had the rare honor of avoiding direct damage.  “I guess the knives and whatnot were stored before the fight started.”

“If you’re grabbing food, it might not be such a bad idea to grab cutlery and some kind of cooker.”

Moving around, Wiggly investigated the area.  “I don’t think there’s going to be a mobile stove.”

“That’s what the cutter’s for isn’t it?”

Rolling her eyes, Wiggly firmly tapped her ears, hoping the thumping would irritate Live Wire.  “Okay, Clown, as soon as I get back there with the food, I’m looking for something that can take over the ship when you’re unplugged.  You want big stuff, you can help out.  You know what, I’m going to see what kind of food there is before I grab anything out of here.”

It wasn’t difficult finding the freezer nor the dry storage.  Within was a treasure trove that left sparkles in her eyes.  Bags of fruits, ice busted cans of every food imaginable, real meat still on the bone, and vegetables that looked fresh off the vine, at least before the harsh freezer burn it all suffered.

Giggling madly, Sprocket pocketed a little bit of everything she could stuff into her cargo net bags.  All while Wire pointed out one thing or another that would make for a great meal.  Wiggly ended up scrounging up several more tote bags from crew quarters and tying them into a train so she could drag that much more.  The two hours of effort left her famished, and Live Wire was no different.  By the time she was done, Wiggly carried triple her weight in food, and now had to do the slow crawl back to the freighter.  Thoughts of eating real food for more than just as a once-a-year treat clouded her thoughts as she shared ideas with Wire about what to eat first.  

She was about to leave the mess hall when Wire pointed out, “you know we still have no way to prepare or even cook meat and stew back here, right? Still need that stove.”

Scowling with all the force of an irate mare, Wiggly shook her hoof at her lazy brother.  “I am getting you a damned computer or something you lazy loaf!”





Weeks passed on by as the siblings stuffed the freighter’s hold full of a variety of salvage.  Food, tools from a workshop and hangar bay, electronics ripped from tattered remains of the bridge and intact computer parts. Multiple bags full of idents, all organized by rank.  A pair of plasma carbines, enough pieces for a full kitchen, enough leftover air, fuel, and ice to refill the tanks twice over, and as many spare parts as they could carry out of the repair bays.  There was only one truly special piece of cargo, the recovered body of the admiral. Neither of them wanted to leave such a pony to remain here, as they could not honor him like they Navy could. 

With the body carefully stored and draped in an Initiative flag, they continued their work.  Time was not a factor to them, as the supplies from the Sword could sustain them for years so long as they didn’t use the travel drive.  The crown jewels of their efforts were two turrets they cut off the Sword.  They were the smallest ones mounted on the mighty vessel, but were just right for the freighter.  Removing them at all wouldn’t have been feasible were it not for a lucky find in a machine shop. 

Both siblings were sifting around the shop with multiple power packs restoring some light to the room. Unlike all of the other shops on the Sword this one at least still had two walls left, and the tool racks had only been partially destroyed. 

Wiggly held a ruined wrench in her hoof, and gave a forlorn sigh at the miserable tool.  “Another ruined six inch. I’m never going to find a replacement.” She gently tossed it away so it would drift out of the room.

Using a tried and true crowbar, Live Wire cracked open a drawer and pulled it open. What lay within was something, at least. “Hey, Wiggs, what do you make of this?”

Lamenting at the next wrench having a broken tooth, Wiggly lazily floated over to her brother. Stopping herself by pressing against the rack, the device Wire hefted out of the drawer caused Wiggly to gasp. “Oh oh oh! Is that?!  Gimme gimme!”

Ignorant of the value of his prize, Wire dutifully gave it over. Sprocket inspected the tool for damage. It was shaped much like her cutter. One held it like a rifle with a large battery pack taking up the butt of the tool. Four emitters arranged as a box were up front with struts securing them in place, yet the struts look mobile as if the emitters could be detached. Sure enough, even Wire could see a launching mechanism and an oversized magazine taking up the center.  Also, almost a dozen stickers covered the thing ranging from a picture of the Sword of the Stars itself to a mare blowing a kiss to the user.  Small dings and scraps of missing paint did not detract from its operation. 

“Wire! Do you know what this is?!”  Sprocket was almost insulted by his unknowing shrug. “It’s a tether projector! This bad boy would go for seven hundred million on the open market before we were isolated. The yards don’t even let us use these unless a real warship was brought in. With this, I can move super heavy stuff without having to break my back.”

“You mean like the turrets you’ve been eyeballing since we got here?”

Wiggly liked to think she was getting better at looking down the barrel of a gun. She had been doing it off and on during the past few weeks to get herself under control. But if there was any improvement she couldn’t see it. “I wouldn’t call it ‘eye balling’ but yes.  I think what I really need is a gun or two I can point the other way.  Besides, those two are energy canons so we don’t need to worry about creating an armory.  Just need to make room for the capacitors.”

“Sure, sure.  Say, if these tethers are that good, why not cut pieces of armor off and finish fixing the hull with something stronger than the tin foil and spit you’ve been using.”

Hugging her new tool, Wiggly kissed it through her helmet.  A disturbed glare from Wire made her recollect herself.  “Look, don’t judge me.”

“The armor?” He said, giving her an out. 

“Right. Yeah, not happening. Do you know how heavy capital grade armor is?  The frame can’t take it. Not to mention my cutter can’t do a damn thing to it either. We’d need the good stuff that the yards only busted out for big projects.”

Shrugging again, Wire shoved her out of the way so he could pry the next drawer open. “Well if not the Sword’s armor, what about the smaller ships?”

With loving care, Wiggly locked her new tool onto her belt and went rooting around for more tethers. “A cruiser is off the table too. But a destroyer… yeah, I could carve up some armor pieces for the hull. It’d be slow work, but it can be done.”

“We should get started tomorrow then.”  Grunting with heavy effort, Wire tore the lock off the drawer with the crowbar and opened it. “Ahh ha, I found the crew’s snack drawer.”  He pulled out a bag of tarts to show her.

“Ooh!  Dibs on any gummy snakes!”

Acting quickly, Wire discarded the snacks he was holding and snatched a bag of gummy snakes from the drawer and yanked it away from her grubby hooves. “No way, these things are too good for dibs.  Finders keepers.”

“Oh that’s not fair!”  Wiggly lunged for the bag, only for Wire’s magic to be far more maneuverable than she could ever be. “Gimme that!”

“No!”

“Yes!” Another lunge failed to connect with the elusive bag. 

“On one condition.”  Wire halted the bag’s retreat, allowing Sprocket to grab it. However, his magic had not surrendered the snacks just yet. 

Deep suspicion marred her face. “What?”

“You stop trying to put pears in my food.”  A defiant scowl crossed her face.  Wire tugged on the bag. “Careful or the bag might rip.”

“Okay okay okay!  No more pears. Now lemme have it.”

“Deal.”  He let go and Wiggly pressed the bag against her visor with the same eyes as a predator.  Drifting back over to the snack drawer, Wire quietly grabbed a party sized bag of gummy snakes and tossed it into his saddlebag with Sprocket none the wiser.  All too easy.





With the tether projector in hoof, the siblings spent the better part of a month carving up the Reckless as it was the most intact of the destroyers. Neither of them wanted anything to do with Centauri salvage.  On the last day of work, Wiggly was exhausted. Her cutter was worn out, and complained about overheating.  She resolved to completely take it apart for a thorough repair, but the job was done. The last cut had been made. 

With their freighter close by, Sprocket fired off four tethers between the freighter and the last segment of armor. Once there was enough clearance, she launched two more tethers onto the back of the armor and the hull she had just carved it out of. The tethers were twined anchors that projected a magical cable between them. 

Linked with her suit, she controlled how strongly each tether pulled on the armor piece. There was a balancing act to be had, as the sundered destroyer was no longer massive enough to be practically immobile against the tethers.  Yet Wiggly controlled it well, and the piece was neatly socketed into place. Whew. Now I just need to weld it into place and boom!  We have a completely new hull.

It was no exaggeration, as everything from the canopy to the engine struts were now encased in armor. 

After a short break and a bag of dehydrated fruits, Sprocket went inside the freighter to weld the last piece.  It took effort to coax the cutter for this final hurdle, but it obliged her long enough to satisfy the job. Once done, she fell back and let herself drift about. Her legs were limp noodles and her visor was having difficulty keeping the sweat from misting over. “There. It’s done.  A proper shipwright would probably throw a fit, but I think it’s solid work.”

She drifted for several minutes, taking a brief nap. She might have stayed there for a few restful hours had Wire not shouted over the radio. 

“Wiggs, I found one!”

Too groggy from her nap to share his enthusiasm, she weakly wagged her wings. “Found what? Your sanity?”

“I lost that after following you out here. No, I found a transponder.  Da da da daaa! I took it off one of Reckless’s shuttles.”

Still too tired to put much effort into her speech, Wiggly grinned anyway. “Great job. Now we can finally leave this place.  Once we sell our stuff I am buying a massage shower.”





The installation was easy enough, thanks to the pictures on the side, but there was an issue there as well.  Wiggly sat in the cramped dining area of the freighter drinking a pouch of soda to wake back up.  A reclaimed pad was floating nearby, and was playing a drama show being broadcasted from the colony.  Her belly was full and the joy of having a fully pressurized ship and the toughest work behind her left her feeling lazy.  “Three proper meals and no pony to bother us.  This is the life.”

Wire floated in, using the wall rails to pull himself along.  “Wiggs, we got a problem with the transponder.  It’s demanding a new license before we can activate it.”

Waggling her soda pouch, beads of soda popped out. Wiggly gazed at him with a bemoaned sigh.  “We pulled the thing off of a navy ship.  Shouldn’t it already have a license?”  Noticing the beads, she sucked them down. 

“That’s what I thought, but when I got all the wires right, the computer said the transponder recognized it’s in a new ship.  It’s asking for naval authorization to work.”

Sagging a bit out of mild annoyance, Wiggly unstrapped herself from the seat and table so she could float freely.  “Well good luck getting it from the AIs around here.  Not one of them is intact enough to just need power, they’d probably try to kill us as intruders if we tried.”

“Which means we need to get it from the Rainbow Dash.”  Wire was more than a little excited with that idea. I’ll finally get a chance to see Winter in person in I don’t know how long.  

Wiggly raised a half cocked eyebrow at him. “How convenient it is that you tricked me into welding on two extra cargo containers just so you could cram them full of missiles. You do realize strictly speaking it’s illegal for us to even have those things without direct naval approval right?  The Dash will probably shoot us on sight before we even come close to the fighter screen. No pony is going to miss the scanners telling them we’re a flying bomb with those things onboard.”

“All the more reason to return them to the navy as a gesture of goodwill,” Wire retorted with a roguish smirk. “I'll set up the radio to act like a makeshift transponder.  A repeating message of ‘don’t shoot, we’re salvagers,’ should do the trick.  I’ll even let Winter know we’re coming so the Dash knows we’re not pirates.”

Sprocket wasn’t too keen on trusting nervous navy pilots, or Winter’s influence. “Now wait a minute.  It was already bad enough you used your veto to get these missiles in the first place-” 

“And the big bag of chocolate turtles,” he cut in matter of factly.

“Don’t interrupt when I’m nagging.”  She wiggled a wing finger at him as a warning.  

“And the whole series of Vampony Chronicles,” he brazenly added.

All she could do was wordlessly grumble extra loud before continuing.  “Anyway, when exactly are you going to do this?  Staying quiet, which I might add, included not visiting your marefriend was both your idea. All so no pony could trace the signal. Every pirate in an astro unit will come for us. You know they target salvagers above everypony else. Aren’t I supposed to be the one to come up with the ‘harebrained schemes?’”

“When we get close to the Rainbow Dash of course. Don’t tell me you forgot a transponder is more than just an id tag.”

“Oh sure. Let’s go around Trireme with a card that says ‘I’m a citizen’.  I’m sure everypony will accept it as legit.  This ‘idea’ of yours is all the excuse a fighter needs to blow us out of the sea.”

Wire slid up next to her and bumped her nose with his own. “You got a better idea?  Only the Navy can activate our transponder. And even if we did find another, it won’t be a civilian model.”

You really need to put more faith in your fellow pony. Namingly, Winter. Because she’ll be our in.”

“I still think we’re going to die.”

Wire gave her an evil prosthetic eye, one she grew uncomfortable with. “Oh shush. You almost got us killed with the mines. Now it’s my turn.” He pulled back and blew a raspberry at her. “Not only is my plan much safer, but we need the money and a way to activate the transponder.  No use fighting it. It’s happening.”

“The things you pull just to get snu snu with your marefriend… Fine, if we survive we’re even.”
> 4: INS Rainbow Dash
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two ponies stood in a warm grand sweeping meadow. Green grass and golden grain reaching up to their knees stretched as far as the eye could see, with gentle rolling hills and a warm sun above. Laying next to the arguing ponies was a two-person lounge cushion that still had a depression from their usage.  All of it was visually realistic at least, but tactical, smell, even the sound of the wind upon the grass was off, artificial.  And it was that way by design, so not to allow those within to forget the scenery was nothing but an illusion of data and circuits.

The mare of the two was fuming.  She paced around the stallion, mentally clearing the grass away from her so she could stomp around unimpeded.  She was so incensed that all she could manage was to feverishly grumble lest she turn and berate the hapless stallion.  Yet this effort to spare him her wrath fell apart when he raised a hoof to get a timid word in.  She rounded on him with a growl.  “What were you thinking, Wire?!  You tell me you might have to go dark while salvaging to avoid pirates. I thought ‘fair enough, we don’t have the numbers to escort salvagers anymore’.  But now you’re telling me it was to avoid activating a damned minefield?  Have you seen what a tractor mine can do to a ship your size?”

“We did actually. Ah - sort of,” Wire offered sheepishly, which only served to spike Winter’s astonishment.  “Wiggly’s a bit insane sometimes, but madness and genius are two hooves on the same pony.”

“Well apparently the two of you chopped off the hooves of common sense and rationality!”  Crying out in exasperation, Winter Gale went back to the cushion and heavily sat down.  “I told you flying a ship with no name was bad luck, but did you listen to me?  Nooo, ‘I’ll just name it when I get a transponder’. As if lady luck cares about that.”

“Okay, you got me there.”

“You really need to be able to put your hoof down whenever Sprocket loses her mind.”

“I got some concessions out of it,” Wire replied with careful defensiveness. “Granted the whole affair was - egh - risky, but it worked out handsomely believe you me.”

Leveling a flat glare at him, Winter huffed. “It worked out?” She started with sarcastic disbelief. “And just how close did it come to ending horribly?  You need to take fewer risks.”

Live Wire matched her flat glare with one of his own. “Winter, my snow lily, love of my life,” he punctuated by blowing a sardonic kiss. “All this talk about risk is rich coming from the mare piloting an oversized engine whose job is to actively go after pirates.”

“‘Love of your life’,” Winter pouted while chewing her cheek. “You wouldn’t go through a minefield for me would you?”

“That-” he paused, caught off guard by the sudden change of tone and question. He sighed, briefly not knowing how to even respond. “Is besides the point.”

Winter pulled away to stare at him in the eyes. “Please tell me you wouldn’t go after me.”

Blinking in utter confusion, Wire opened and closed his mouth trying to decide how to proceed. “Wwwhy?”

“Because then I’d at least know you have more than two brain cells to rub together.”  She looked away, her mood sinking fast. “Wire… The last three stallions I was with died in or because of the war.”  Closing her eyes, she did not shy away when he rested a hoof on her withers.  “I want to know my coltfriend is safe.”

Quirking a side grin, Wire sat down and wrapped a leg around her into a warm embrace. “Given the explosion last month, I wasn’t safe even with a desk job.”

The attempt at humor didn’t land. Winter pulled out of the hug and shuffled around so she could face him and hold Wire’s hooves in her own. “Wire. I - can you be honest with me?”

“Of course,” he replied readily. “I haven’t broken any laws yet. To the best of my knowledge anyway,” he lied carefully, hoping he could still play ignorant about the missiles.

Still unwilling to be baited by his humor, Winter closes her eyes tight to think. Why are you dating me instead of Sprocket?  She couldn’t bring herself to give voice to that question. She had known Live Wire for almost a year, and the best answer she ever got was ‘Sprocket’s my sister’.  I know she’s not your flesh and blood, so why?

“Winter?”

Opening her eyes, the bat pony sighed in defeat. “Sorry. I just worry about you.”

“Well I’m safe now.  Or at least I will be once we come visit you.”  Wire magically pulled Winter over and gave her a crushing hug. 

Snorting dismissively, Winter sank into his embrace and hugged him back. He wasn’t like the hotshots she had dated before. They had all died in the war, and she shied away from repeating that heartbreak again. It helped that he was a better hugger than any of them had been. Tears fell from her real face, but she willed them away here in cyberspace more out of habit during briefings and joining up with distant colleagues. “You don’t feel safe on Trireme?” she asked, worrying about him even harder now. 

“Not so much that, but more like we want to rendezvous with the Rainbow Dash before we go back.”

“Here?!” She pulled back to gauge his face, and her anxiety spiked upon seeing how serious it was. “Wire, my captain will never allow that.  We have to stay on the move and remain agile. If we get ambushed we won’t last long.”

“Yeah, but I also know the Navy’s wallet is getting stretched too thin as it is. What do you think your captain would prefer? Trading parts directly from us, or letting Trireme take a cut?”

Nervously biting a hoof, Winter Gale pondered over the idea. “Did you at least find a transponder like you wanted?”

“We did, but we need a Navy license to activate it.”

Ah, so that’s his angle.

“Plus it’s a good excuse to come see you. We got some prime rib steaks still on the bone from the officers’ mess.  Just ignore the freezer burn.”

Winter’s eyes expanded with predatory hunger. “You what?!”  She instinctively looked around, sudden paranoia if any of her fellows hacked into her lobby to listen in. “Okay, I will do what I can to convince the captain to let you over. You made a cargo list right?”

“I’m glad you asked.  See, I have a good feeling Wiggly and I are about to come into a lot of bits.  Even with the Navy discount.”  He waved a hoof and a glowing blue envelope materialized in front of Winter.

Still dubious, Winter made to grab the envelope in a hoof only for a translucent red box to surround it.  “Gah.  The ship’s got to scan it first.”  Soon enough the box winked green before vanishing.  Now that she could, Winter snatched up the envelope and it disappeared into her internal storage. It proved to be a ledger of the freighter’s cargo. She saw it as an old style blue book with white paper. Instead of turning the page, she simply waved a mental hoof to scroll the text. She grew distracted for only a moment due to the item on the top of the list. “Three thousand idents?!”  Winter jerked herself out of the file to stare at him in disbelief. “You took that many?!”

“Recovered,” he clarified with a raised hoof. “We recovered that many.”  Wire flashed a proud grin. “I figured the Navy would want them before any Trireme hooves touched them.”

She refocused on the ledger with another surprise waiting for her. “You recovered the high admiral?!” She covered her mouth with a hoof. “No way.  You’re joking.”

“Not about something like that.”  Wire’s stern expression brooked no argument. “Didn’t realize who we had at first. The other bodies will have to wait, but I suspect the Hero of Shattered Sword shouldn’t be left behind without the proper respects Wiggly and I are ill suited to offer.”

Winter stood up, holding the ledger close. She produced a compass to float between them. “Here’s our coordinates. I think the captain will forgive this breach to claim the body.  How soon can you reach us?”

Taking the compass, Wire thought it over, and was helped by his implants. “Ten days hard burn.”

Winter nodded, mulling it over. “Our flight path should still put us in sensor range of you by then. I’ll let the captain know to expect you.”  

In her haste to share the news, Wire tugged her into a hug.  “Hey now, you’re forgetting something.”  He gave her a light peck on the lips.

Giggling, and forgetting the news for a moment, Winter Gale pulled him in for a longer, loving kiss.  They fell back onto the cushion, falling deeper into each other.  With no need to breathe here, they remained locked together.  They tumbled off the cushion as they explored one another, causing Winter to break first.  “You know, the captain can wait another hour or so.”





Not too long after, Winter Gale was holding onto a wall conveyor on her way to the captain. In this living warship, the halls were lined with mag-railed conveyors allowing personnel to travel rapidly while the center was reserved for any cargo movement. She kept one hoof on the conveyor and tried to keep her crisp uniform smart and proper. She didn’t know the captain well, so she wanted to make a good impression. 

The Central Information Center was coming up quickly, where a single earth marine stood guard. In front of sensitive areas like this, a scanner checked everyone who approached. She let go of the conveyor and used her leathery wings to slow down. 

Upon arrival, she dutifully stepped through the scanner much like she did for the launch bay. Unlike there however, the marine held out a hoof. “Hold up, fly girl. You don’t have business here.”

“I need to see the captain, Corporeal.  It’s important.”

“Did you make an appointment?” He remained calm, but resolute.

Squaring herself up, Winter tried to project a resolute posture.  “No, I just found out about an important resupply fifteen minutes ago.  But the captain will need to approve it first, and I’m worried if I go through the proper channels he’ll ignore my request given I’m a pilot and not a logistics officer.  And that could end up with the freighter getting blown out of the stars.”

Fixing her with a steady gaze of suspicion and disbelief, the marine checked Winter over in search of any weapons. A pilot’s uniform was as skin tight as fur allowed, but it had multiple pockets that could hold any number of things. “Hold still.”  With a mental command, the scanner switched from simply scanning her ident to a more thorough search. 

When she came back clean without so much as lint in her pockets, he popped in a plastic toothpick to chew on. <Corkscrew, take over for me, I got an escort to take into the CIC.>

A new marine popped in from a door beside the scanner while the earth pony waved her inside. “This way.”  He sent a warning to the captain as well.

“Thank you, Corporal.”  She waited for the earth marine to take the lead as followed after him. The CIC was cramped, so much so that hoofholds were all that was needed to move around. The room itself was triangular, much like the ship itself, with a point directed to the bow. Three stations lined the two angled sides each with the helm at the fore. Two more stations sat on either side of the entrance. The captain and executive officer’s chairs were close to the helm while a holographic map filled the remaining space between those chairs and the entrance. 

Everything was well lit and manned. Presently, the captain and his executive officer were hovering around the map. Winter instantly recognized it as future deployment plans for her air wing. 

The captain was the first to look away from the map to fixate on the intruding pilot. “Ahh, First Lieutenant Winter Gale.  Here to comment on your next deployment?” he offered with a curt, yet friendly disposition.

The unicorn captain was young for his rank, barely halfway past his thirties. Yet he both distinguished himself and survived his immediate superiors, so the promotion stuck. He kept his bridge as spotless as his uniform, crisp and ready for inspection. 

In spite of his age, Winter Gale was enamored with him as a hero in his own right. If anyone did the name Rainbow Dash justice it was Captain Howling Tempest. “No, Sir!” She saluted sharply after approaching him. “I received word of a salvager wishing to offer us a resupply directly.”

He returned the gesture just as sharply.  “Is that so?”  He mentally dismissed the plans drawn up on the map.  He glanced at his comms officer, who only shrugged.  “How did you come about this?”

So far so good.  Winter did her best to keep the nervous thread in her voice from surfacing.  “I recently got in contact with them, and they’re carrying cargo that I don’t think either one of us wants passing through Trireme.”

Arching a curious eyebrow and glancing back at his executive officer, Tempest rolled his neck. “Alright, I’m listening. What is it? They found an intact bomber?”

“No sir, they…” Winter grew a bit nervous. “They managed to break into Sword Fall and poke around inside the old flagship.”

“They what?!” Tempest nearly yelled, suddenly silencing the CIC as everyone focused on what could cause the captain distress.  He cleared his throat and made a conscious effort to keep a poised exterior as was expected of a naval officer. 

“Aye sir, they got into Sword Fall and recovered a small freighter’s worth of parts and equipment.  I’ve already run the list by the quartermaster, and he’s made annotations on what is in desperate supply.  But the biggest thing they found were a few thousand idents, and… High Admiral Gleaming Light’s body.”

A chorus of gasps surrounded the CIC, and Howling Tempest who looked as if he had been struck in the face.  “The-?!  I wasn’t notified anypony would be salvaging within our patrol areas.”  He briefly wondered how she was contacted by them and not his comms officer.  “Did this mystery freighter of yours send their ident code?”

Winter grew nervous even though she expected this reaction, the pilot tried to keep calm. “I know who they are, but they have no naval code.”  

“No code?”  He closed in on her. “Are you telling me some no-pony salvagers managed to canter right into a minefield and did as they pleased?  Did they mention how?”

“No sir.”

Heavily rubbing his jaw, Tempest grumbled irritably. “How can they be sure it was Gleaming Light?”

“They sent me a ledger, his ident number, and complete with multiple pictures of the body. They’re transporting him with what care they’re capable of, sir.”

“They’d better be!” He flashed with fuming anger. “The last thing they need is mishandling the high admiral’s body.  That aside, if they could break into a minefield, so can the pirates.”  He despised making a scene in front of his crew, and upon realizing he was doing just that made him even more irate.  So he stopped himself and took a long breath.  “All of you, not a word of this leaves the CIC, am I clear?”  After a full round of acknowledgments, he jabbed a wing to a door. “In my office, now.”

Howling Tempest gestured for his second to remain in the CIC as he moved through a door at the starboard corner of the room. Beyond was more of a conference room than an office as the stallion rarely used it, preferring to work in the CIC itself. He pulled himself over to the front of the tight room, and left Winter at the entrance. “How do you know these salvagers?”

“The pilot’s my coltfriend. The only other crew member is his sister.  Both are civilians from Trireme.”

“Where are they now?”

“They’re just leaving sector J12, sir.”  Winter was nervously sweating bad enough to stain her flight suit.  She had hoped the news would elate Tempest, and his aggressive mood was entirely unexpected. “I told them our position was in G7, and they’ll be there in ten days.”  In actuality, that was four sectors off, but still well within intercept range should Tempest so choose.

Tempest watched Winter closely, debating on how loyal she was to this alleged coltfriend over her ship. “Do you vouch for them?”

Winter answered without hesitation or doubt.  “Completely sir.  The navy pulled both of them out of escape pods after the Sundering of Trireme. They see us all as heroes, Captain.”

Not quick to let his ego be played up, Tempest held firm.  “Winter Gale, just as many ponies see us as failures for allowing the centauri to destroy as much as they did.  The populace only see Gleaming Light as a hero because he was the best of us and died a hero’s death. Not by his character or sense of honor. By Terra if I was half the commander he was, we wouldn’t have a pirate issue.”

“I’d like to think he’d approve of you, sir.”

Tempest wasn’t about to let flattery lower his guard. “Give me the pictures of the body.”

She offered up the whole ledger which pinged him for acceptance. “Yes sir. They’re included in the back of the ledger.”

Wary of any viruses, Howling Tempest had the ship AI run multiple deep scans of the document before accepting it.  He mulled over it repeatedly.  “I see. Very well, we’ll meet them at G7.  Do you have the transponder code they’re using?”

“About that…”






Aboard the sibling’s freighter, Wire was allowing the freighter to drift as he watched the sensors for the Rainbow Dash. A virtual hoof hovered over the command to activate the long range radio. 

Sprocket was leaning over his shoulder gnawing on a stick of jerky, and watching the empty view outside. G7 was completely empty space, making any sort of ambush difficult at best. “Anything?”

“Oh yeah, I see a big return on the limits of my sensors, and a bunch of smaller ones on the way over.  In fact…” He flicked a mental switch to allow the radio to play over the speakers. 

“Unidentified vessel, activate your transponder immediately,” came a stern voice that promised a swift death if the command was ignored. 

Live Wire got a bit nervous and spoke both aloud for Wiggly’s sake, and mentally over the radio. “Ours doesn’t work, but I was given a clearance code. Transmitting it now.”

There was a prolonged pause until the same voice came back. “Acknowledged. Come to a halt and prepare for inspection.”

Exhaling sharply, Wire tried to keep calm. “Alrighty. Let’s hope the Navy’s feeling generous.”

“It’ll be fine.  I’m sure they just need to make sure we’re not pirates, and then we’ll all be fast friends thanks to all the cargo we can sell them.”  Wiggly squirmed her way back into the hallway wearing a massive smile. “This is awesome, broham, all those years of the Navy watching our backs, and we get to give a little back.”

Wire turned his head back to watch her sonder off to the airlock.  “Just don’t expect them to kiss your moldy hooves if you offer up some chocolates and a good time. The Navy’s the one place ponies still regularly get that sort of thing.”

“Booo, who’s going to get the smell out of them then?  Your lazy tail is why they stink in the first place.” 

Wiggly swung by her quarters and grabbed some smart glasses off the charger. She had picked them up from the graveyard, and they weren’t the worst model on the market. Most smart glasses offered crisp augmented reality, but these were fuzzier and indistinct if you paid too much attention. 

With some effort and mistaken commands, Sprocket managed to peer out of the freighter’s sensors and see a small marine shuttle closing in on the port side where the only airlock they had resided.  Upon arrival, she made sure the space suit locker was closed right. I’d rather not have them think we pulled these straight off a corpse. Now that I think about it, we probably should get rid of the navy markings on these.

Resolving to remember to do that later, Sprocket waited with eager anticipation as the shuttle arrived and the air locks connected. Once the lights turned green, she slapped the button. 

The airlock cycled open to reveal a stern faced lieutenant marine backed by two more. A few others were in the rear, but she couldn’t make them out. “Welcome aboard, good sirs.”

The officer stepped up to the mare. “Citizen Wiggly Sprocket?”

“That’s me.”

He inspected her closely for weapons before moving his gaze to the ship at large.  Both the airlock and the rear ramp led straight into the cargo bay. “Before you can be allowed near the Rainbow Dash, we must inspect your vessel for any undeclared personnel. Direct me or my team to any explosives you are carrying as well.”

“It’s just me and my brother in the cockpit. All of our explosives are on the gangly looking containers welded to the outside hull. We are carrying the body in the freezer though.”

The marines behind the officer shared bewildered looks while the officer mentally assessed the mare as a higher potential threat, but decided to remain a firm guest. “The body?  Dare I ask who it is?”

“Youuu haven’t been told?”  Wiggly eyed the marines for any hint of a clue.  “Uh huh.”  She coughed to clear her throat.  She placed a hoof to her ear. <Wire. You said you told the navy who we’re escorting didn’t you?>

Instinctively nodding, Wire was wondering just how much he should say. <Yea, I made sure to point it out to Winter Gale.  I even put it at the top of the ledger I gave her.>

Seeing how the marines were getting impatient, Sprocket backed out of the way and dipped her head and wings placatingly. “All in good time I guess.  We’ll fully comply with your inspection. Which do you want to see first?”





The inspection team did not share the lieutenant's manners. They were absolutely thorough, going so far as to pull Sprocket’s drawers off the wall to inspect the wall behind them whenever the scanners could not give a clear enough picture. Multiple boxes were opened and the contents roughly moved about as the marines checked everything with both eyes and scanners alike. Not even the snack drawer was safe. 

When at last the lieutenant was brought to the freezer, Sprocket’s feathers would have been utterly ruffled if she had any. “Lieutenant, was it really necessary to break the stove trying to get behind it?”

The earth pony was mildly irritated that he had to be the verbal punching bag the whole time, and his patience was thinning at her constant nagging for the last two hours. “Miss Sprocket, you’re carrying thirty eight class four missiles and torpedoes.  The chances of you being pirate saboteurs must be ruled out.  This is all precautionary.”

“I’d buy that if one of your goons hadn’t nosed around my sock drawer.”  Sprocket was completely done with the inspection team, and the hapless junior officer would get no mercy from her. 

“I would like to think most mares don’t keep a bottle of pear food flavoring in their drawers either.  Now, the body?”

<Is that where you’ve been hiding it?> Wire chimed in with vengeful glee.  <That thing is getting spaced!>

She Grumbled fiercely at the officer’s unrepentant attitude, and her stash of pear flavoring being outed.  Wiggly unlatched the freezer and dragged the heavy door open. It was a small part of the cargo hold, still making it quite sizable for its purpose of only servicing the needs of two ponies. 

Tied down in the middle of the freezer was a metal box that was too big to be a coffin, yet it’s location made it too conspicuous as to what it was. “I take it your superior still hasn’t told you who we’re carrying?”

Letting a slight scowl marr his lips, the officer claimed the scanner from a nearby marine and pressed forward. “I was informed to verify the identity, not the who of it.”  Turning away from her, he kept from opening it in the off chance it was a bomb. As the readings were fed into the officer’s cybernetic HUD, his eyes widened completely open.  The reading was clear, the body was a pegacorn stallion, and buried in the right front hoof was the admiral’s second ident. “You-?!”  He shut the scanner off and gazed at the pegacorn with utter shock. “You have the…”  He forced his mouth shut upon remembering his cohorts were close by.

“What is it, LT?” asked the marine from behind Wiggly. 

He was ignored as the officer contacted the Rainbow Dash. A short bit later, he addressed the marine. “Inspection’s over. Clear out and return to the Dash without me.  I am to remain here until this vessel docks with the RD.”

The other marine shared a questioning look between his superior and Wiggly. He desperately wanted to know, but he had been in the service long enough to know when he didn’t need to know. “Understood, sir.”

“Very good.”  The lieutenant waited for him to leave for the airlock before facing Wiggly. “Inform your pilot they are to permit the flight operations officer remote control as soon as my boarding shuttle departs.”

This was feeling increasingly like a mistake, but Wiggly was in too deep to back out now. “Sure, I’ll let him know.  Are you - uhh - just going to float there?”

The officer was still in shock at such a find, and resorted to moving on autopilot. So he didn’t have the wits to soften his tone. “Gleaming Light must be escorted until he is laid to rest. I - I’m sure the captain will have more formal words for you, but… thank you.”

I’d prefer a new pear flavor spray can at this point. Wiggly looked around with bemusement.  “I get the sentiment there, buddy, but I think the admiral would understand you doing that outside of the freezer.”

His inexperience in such situations bled through the young officer’s attempt to remain in charge.  He looked at her, the impromptu coffin, and then to the steady flow of steam from the door.  “I-um, I think that’s for the best.”





Leaving the freezer behind, Wiggly arrived at the cockpit to find Live Wire had already let the carrier take over their ship. The two were largely silent after idle greetings. As the Rainbow Dash came into view, the siblings drank in the rugged majesty of the warship. 

As was tradition for every vessel to bear the name, the Rainbow Dash was painted sky blue and white instead of the more traditional colors. The escort carrier was more or less a tiered wedge in space.   The armored center line bore one cruiser sized pulsed laser triple turret on the dorsal side with an equally sized missile launcher behind it.  The edges of the wedge’s points bore defense turrets that had to be cannibalized from other ships. The launch bay was buried into the forward starboard quarter of the ship. Presently, an armored flap was open, allowing flight operations. Sensor masts were concentrated just forward of the hangar opening and in a larger sensor package sitting above the engineering section. Directional shield emitters created open points in the armor concentrated mostly amidships along the port side.  Proudly displayed along the starboard side of the bow with a floodlight illuminating it was the ship’s name.

She was the last deployable warship of decent size left in the system, and she was stunning to the siblings. Sprocket plastered her face into the canopy, leaving a smear. “What I wouldn’t do to be chief engineer on that beautiful lady.”

“Hey now,” Wire warned while gently rubbing the console. “There’s no reason to besmirch our little lady like that just because she hasn’t got a name yet.”  Wiggly rolled her eyes while Live Wire kissed the closest piece of the freighter. “That’s right, girl, I won’t let that idiot talk bad about you.  Once we get your transponder working you’ll get a great name.”  Sprocket let off an annoyed huff.  “A wonderful name.” She eyed him with a scowl. “A better name than she concocted, I promise.”

“Pah, the list I gave you had some seriously good ones.”

Pushing his need to tease his sister, Wire waggled his head.  “I suppose a few were decent enough.”  Mentally pulling up the list, there were multiple ones that were clearly jokes. Stripped Wire, crass even for her.  Outlaw Star, sounds like it would invite trouble.  The Long Shot, sounds kinda accurate, but feels a little defeatist.  The Cloud Jumper.

“Cloud Jumper… What brought that up?”  The name sounded haunting familiar, but Wire couldn’t place it.

“I don’t know…” Wiggly Sprocket fell silent as she tried to put her feelings into words.  “The words kinda just - they pull on me.  Like how you being my sunshine just feels right.”  She looked away to some far off star.  She knew what a cloud was of course, but Trireme only had facsimiles of them, and she had never set hoof on a planet before.  So she only knew of them from movies and vid-novels.  And yet, deep down, she felt a connection.  “Please, let’s use that one.”

With one ear flat and a wiry grin, Live Wire snorted a bit of a laugh.  “Well if you’re that dead set on it then sure.  Cloud Jumper it is.”  

Tittering off a short laugh, Sprocket hugged her brother tightly.  “Thanks, broham.”





The freighter proved to just barely fit the mid-deployment resupply airlock which was able to wrap itself around and seal against the rear loading ramp. 

With the freighter on standby, both siblings stood at the loading ramp as it opened wide. The flexible tube was wide enough for whole pallets of supplies to be moved with ease. Floating in from the escort carrier was none other than Captain Howling Tempest in his best dress uniform. A pair of honor guard marines escorted him. The resplendent sight of them stilled any sort of light mirth the siblings possessed. Surprisingly, not one other crew member was behind them. He surveyed the impressively well organized cargo bay before him. At least if he ignored the obvious signs of an inspection that went a little too drastic. 

His gaze quickly found its way to the owners of the freighter, who he found the mare of the two trying to hide her irritation behind a respectful mask. “Forgive my inspection team. One has to be extremely cautious these days.  I am Captain Howling Tempest, at your service.”

Bowing respectfully, Live Wire was the first to speak. “Name’s Live Wire, sir, out of Trireme. I’m the skipper.”

“Wiggly Sprocket, same place.  I’m the engineer and quartermaster here.”

That explains the irritation. “I understand you are escorting the fallen admiral.”

“Yes sir,” Wiggly offered quickly.  “This way, please.”

Guiding them through the once well organized cargo bay to the forward ventral corner where the freezer was. The lieutenant saw them coming and saluted nervously as the situation was well beyond his pay grade. “At ease, lieutenant.  You’re dismissed.”

The stallion hesitated, unwilling to leave his charge. “Y-yes, sir.”

The junior officer’s departure gave the captain a long moment to stare at the freezer door with muffled derision. Ultimately, he decided not to comment on it and waved Live Wire forward. “If you please.”

Leading the way, Wire and Sprocket stepped inside and flanked the makeshift coffin. His manners were certainly strained at seeing a crate for coffee serving as the casket. “I - I realize you most likely had no access or reason to have a proper coffin on hoof, but wrapping Gleaming Light in a flag would have been sufficient.”

Sprocket wrung her hooves and mumbled with an unsure tone. “We wrapped him up in the most intact flag we could find and a bed sheet, but captain, we thought this was still better. He…”

Live Wire followed up where Wiggly went quiet. “He took a huge amount of shrapnel all over the front of him. I’m no doctor, but it looked like he lived long enough for the void to finish him. We thought you’d prefer to clean him up before the cameras started rolling.”

Giving a contemplative hum, Tempest recalled the pictures given to him by Winter Gale.  I’d still prefer to see him with my own eyes.  He looked to the honor guard. “Let’s see him.”

Both marines stepped up with the siblings making way. They quickly found the latches and popped them open. Within was a body wrapped and completely obscured by green fabric with a tattered and slightly burnt Initiative flag draped on top. The silver and gold flag with the silhouettes of three ancient heroes never looked so somber.  

The thin layer of ice powdered and cracked as the marines pulled the flag and fabric off the body’s face. Both they and Tempest were both saddened and appalled by the sight. It was indeed the admiral, but his face was deformed by large pieces of metal and the decompression of the void. His once purple fur was caked in frozen blood. 

Tempest nodded to the marines and they returned the fabric and flag. He gestured for the two civilians to join him outside of the freezer while the two honor guards took the body away. He remained silent for a moment as the gravity of the situation took its toll on him in a way the prolonged deployment couldn’t do. “You have done the Initiative a great service. I’ll admit it is embarrassing that the Navy did not have a chance to recover the body ourselves, but you have my deepest gratitude.”

The siblings shared a quizzical look with Sprocket giving voice to their thoughts. “I mean no disrespect, sir, but why didn’t you?”

If there was offense to be taken, Howling Tempest was not one to take it. He paused for a long moment, an explanation was the least he could.  He studied the siblings’ faces. “I suppose you two would’ve been too young to pay attention at the time. If I had to blame any one thing it’s be complacency. From the beginning, the Ruby Navy made it a point to raid our logistics. Naturally we took the necessary precautions during the war, but once the civilian government of the Ruby Alliance capitulated, we grew complacent in our victory. 

“We had sent our surviving logistic ships out en mass, against my advice, to salvage parts for Faraway station’s restoration. As if to spite us, the Ruby Navy set upon these ships with wild abandon, naming themselves as privateers. With only token escorts, the manticore’s share of our logistics vessels were annihilated. We made them pay for it naturally, but the damage was done.”

He shook his head, unwilling to dwell on it further. “But enough of that. How many people know you reclaimed the body?”

“Aside from that lieutenant you sent over, only your pilot Winter Gale.  Full disclosure sir, she’s my marefriend too.”

“So I’ve been told. I thank you for your discretion regarding the high admiral, as I must ask you to keep this quiet even longer. We will indeed be ‘cleaning’ him up before an announcement is made. It will not do to have his visage immortalized like this.  But we can’t do that here, so we will have to wait until we return to Felscia Shipyard. 

“As for the rest of your cargo, I will have my quartermaster discuss such matters with you within the hour. As payment for your service, will have your transponder activated and I grant you special permission to salvage whatever miltech can acquire provided you deliver it to me or to Felscia Shipyard.  If there is anything else you need within reason, bring the matter up with my quartermaster.”

“It was an honor to deliver the admiral to you, captain.”  Wiggly Sprocket was both elated by Tempest’s accolades and morose over their somber duty. “I only wish we could have done more than the indignity of his impromptu coffin.”

“You did what you could, and that was enough. I wish we could offer you a prolonged stay as guests of honor, but every second we remain docked to each other is another moment of weakness the Centauri could exploit.”  Howling Tempest dipped his head in respect to them. “That being said, there is one point of contention that I can not leave unaddressed.”  His face grew dark.  “How did you defeat the minefield?”

Giving each other a troubled look, Wiggly spoke up.  “Sir, I ah - I would like to tell you, but I’m afraid if we do, you’ll patch it, and then we can’t go back.”

Exhaling slowly, Howling Tempest allowed himself to show thinly restrained hostility.  “You’ve done the Navy a great service today, but I must insist.  Once word of this gets out, others will look to you to repeat your exploit.”

“Can’t we just say we had a navy access code?”  Live Wire offered.

“I can grant you a code, but I need to know how you got in first.”

When Live Wire looked to his sister, she flinched under both sets of eyes.  “Okay, okay!  I found out how to spoof their IFF frequency using the running lights.  Since light is light, it doesn’t matter if we have mounted comms lasers or not.”

That only made Howling Tempest even more distressed.  “And how did you learn how to do that?”

Sprocket started nervously playing with her long mane.  “Well, I was a shipbreaker for years, and I - I um, may or may not have jailbroke my scanner and when we were given mines to deconstruct I maybe sort of kinda took a little peek into the mine’s code.”

Every ounce of Howling Tempest wanted to throw the mare into the brig right then and there.  “You played a very dangerous and illegal game.  Fortunately for you, the need to make an example of you does not outweigh our need for salvagers.  You will have your code to reenter the minefields, one that will destroy itself should you ever be boarded or lose power. Forward your method to my quartermaster when you speak to him, and as far as anypony else is concerned, you had this code all along, understand?” he ended with sheer iron.

It was more than enough to cow the siblings into hastily bowing their heads.  “Yes, sir, I’ll have it all ready for him in an hour!”

“Good, the Navy once again thanks you for your cooperation.  I look forward to your next rendezvous.”

Yet before he could leave, Wire spoke out. “Captain. My sister can handle the trades. And since the whole matter with the mines is behind us, may I come aboard and visit Winter Gale?  Or she could be given leave to visit me?”

“While you may have toured the pride of the fleet, I would rather you not poke around inside my ship.”  Howling Tempest eyed Wiggly Sprocket intensely as he spoke.  Slowly though, a cheeky grin spread over his muzzle as he refocused on Wire. “I’ll let her know she is free to board your vessel until the transfer of supplies is complete. Good day.”  Tipping his hat, Tempest made for the exit. 

Once out of earshot, Sprocket rounded on her brother. “You putz!  Not only did I nearly have a heart attack just now, but you put all the work on me while you and Winter stink up the place?  You could at least help me fix the cargo up before you disappear.”

Wire used a hoof to tousle her hair, only to make Sprocket pull back and bite the air as a half playful warning. “Tell you what, my little sunshine, when you get a coltfriend, you can dump the work on me one day.”

Giving a sisterly unholy scowl for the ages, Sprocket shoved her muzzle into his.  “You’re the worst.”

“Love you too, kisses.”  He faked trying to kiss her muzzle, only to make Sprocket jump back in disgust.  

“Just you wait until I find more pears!”





In spite of the blackout Howling Tempest put on news surrounding the fallen high admiral, word still got out. Within days, rumors that the Rainbow Dash was carrying the body spread across the whole system. News this big traveled from the star to the outer planets in record time, and arrived at the pirate stronghold within a week. 

Built into a large moon, the hidden pirate lair was a haven for the corsairs that ruled the midnight sea past the inner asteroid belt. It would be hard to spot the base from above the moon, as it was all buried into the crust.  The facility dated back to the first days of colonization and had survived the war intact,  It was filled with vast stores of food and supplies, both produced and stolen alike. Fast corvettes modified to carry short ranged fighters, three frigates, multiple small freighters, and a lone destroyer were docked within an enclosed hangar. 

Almost every species from Equiss was present under the surface, ranging from traitorous ponies to drakes, kirin, griffins, yaks, and to the undisputed masters of the lunar domain: the centauri. 

Nearly a decade after losing contact with the wider Ruby Alliance, the once proud military base had lost almost all sense of civilized discipline. The lines between the base itself and the surrounding civilian structures had blurred completely.  Out along the surface near the docks were a number of bars and saloons. The small domes had not survived wartime bombardment, and post war reconstruction barely made them airtight again.  

Now there was a simple hierarchy. Captains were untouchable, trusted and successful officers came next, followed by the crews and civilians, with slaves far at the bottom. Presiding over it all was the Commodore, ruler of the base itself. The Slit Neck pirate gang was the lowest of the low. They were unwanted in other crews, and had to regularly replenish their ranks with slaves because no one else could be hired. The captain was rarely afforded any manner of respect befitting his station.  

Here, in the Blackhole Bar, Captain Thaddeus drank away what remained of his coin in miserable remembrance of his glory days. He was a runt of a centauri.  Where his race normally towered over any pony save a fully grown alicorn, he was a head and shoulder shorter than that having grown up on a high gravity world. In his hay day, that mattered little in space.  Now it was just one more avenue of mockery. 

Thaddeus was face down on the bar, a half-drunk bottle of moonshine sat close by. His graying red hair spilled around him. He no longer bothered with a glass. “I used to be an admiral,” he muttered to nobody. “I was the grand admiral that broke the ponies’ backs!” He slammed his fist on the bar and leveled a scathing glare at any of the patrons who might be unfortunate enough to meet his gaze. Blackhole was an unpopular dive already, and none of the regulars wanted to have his fury directed at them. “I killed the damn high admiral!” He slammed the bottle away, causing the metal thing to bounce and spill. “I see your stares,” he growled, still searching for a hapless victim. “I hear your mockery!”

“Captain!” Barked the griffin bartender. “Either sit down or clear off.”  

Thaddeus lifted a warning finger, but even in his drunken state, he did not challenge the bartender in his own bar. No one did. Instead, Thaddeus wobbled his head around, looking for his bottle of rot gut. It had rolled out behind a familiar female drake. 

The black scaled reptile with sharp emerald eyes was dressed in a threadbare Centauri naval uniform she had carefully maintained.  Hard times and no possible resupply had nearly degenerated it into rags.  “Captain, may I have a word with you?”

“Ahhh, Commander, there you are. Come, come have a drink with me.”

“Felin,” the bartender called out while wiping down the bar. It may be a miserable dive, but the proprietor was at least going to keep the bar itself clean. “He’s had his last for the night. Drag him off woulda?”

“I need him sobered up anyway.”  If Fein was bothered by her captain’s drunken state, she made no show of it. 

Thaddeus waved her off like the plague. “Oh no. Don’t you dare!”  He lost his footing and fell to the floor and vomited.  The half decent gravity offered by the moon made the refuse stick to the ground. 

Now that he couldn’t offer resistance, Felin circled around him. She grabbed Thaddeus by the rear hooves and dragged him out to the exit. “See you next time, bar keep.”

“Next time he better pay his tab!” He shouted back as the doors closed. “With interest!”

Once out onto the dirty street, the drake withdrew a syringe from a pocket and jabbed it into the centauri’s arm. 

“Ah damn you, Felin.”  Thaddeus curled in on himself as the medication burned his veins as it broke down the alcohol and shocked his blood with more oxygen. After a few more minutes and two vomits later, the now mostly sober disgraced officer looked up at his first mate with seething anger. “What could possibly justify ruining my buzz, Felin.”  He spat to get the foul taste out of his mouth. 

“Sir, you and I both know that was far beyond a ‘buzz’.  If I left you in there any longer you’d have started drinking our fuel money.”

Still a bit wobbly, Thaddeus used the wall to climb to his hooves. “You’re the only one who still calls me ‘sir’.  I lost even that honor a long time ago.”

“Yes, well, there may be an opportunity to earn it back.”  She pulled out a transfer stick. It was effectively an invitation to a private lobby, one that instantly made him nervous.

“Who is that from?”

“The Commodore.  There’s been a shake up.  It’ll be announced tomorrow, but the Commodore wants to speak with you immediately.  He wouldn’t elaborate as to what that entailed exactly.”

“Now?”  Thaddeus looked around.  The dome they were in was poorly rebuilt and badly run down, and the buildings and people around them were little better.  Petty thieves and desperate beggars that were too weak to work the factories or unwanted on ships all landed here.  Diving into a lobby was asking to be killed, captain or not.  “There’s a flophouse a few blocks down.”





A few choice words and a stern look from Felin led to the pair stepping into their temporary abode.  Four bare and cracked walls were all that greeted them.  The concrete floors were obscured by a layer of rock dust and refuse, but it would do.

Thaddeus kicked away some wrappers and moldering paper to sit down.  As low as he was, he could at least boast his quarters on the corvette were in better shape.  Felin shut the door and further inspected the walls, making sure there was no threat of collapse.  “I’ll watch the door, you should be safe here, sir.”

Spitting some leftover vomit, Thadeus wished for a drink.  “Hopefully, this is just another, ‘we killed some people, be glad you’re too unimportant to do the same’ or some such nonsense.” He tried to fix his jacket, but it was smeared in filth. The once resplendent maroon threads were torn and damaged. His old rank stripes and stars had been forcibly ripped away. His expanded gut forced him to leave it unbuttoned. 

Felin remained contemplatively quiet and moved to the door, preparing for a long vigil.  When she failed to say anything, Thaddeus gruffed and took the transfer stick, moved his greasy black hair out of the way, and slotted it into the back of his neck.

His consciousness left his body and his world became a kaleidoscope of blues and reds as he was sent through the network.  A looming sphere of indigo and black closed in on him.  Gateways more akin to angry red screens as opposed to physical gates rounded the sphere.  As he closed in, the nearest gate turned green and vanished, leaving behind a white void.  Upon crossing the threshold, Thaddeus materialized into a lavish office.  Easily the size of a decent house, the single room was decorated in trophies.  Pieces of Initiative vessels with the names still clinging to it, heads or whole bodies of vicious xeno beasts, artifacts stolen from various places, and the crown jewel that sat behind the desk was the plaque of Faraway Station, the one responsible for FTL travel out of the system.

The overall décor was opulent gold and silks, the red and whites were holdovers from the days they used to belong to the Ruby Alliance.  The desk was a mirror to the real one owned by the Commodore: polished steel with a red cloth thrown on it.  The seats in front were all shoved aside and five people laid dead on the floor: two centauri, a minotaur heifer, one kirin, and a griffin.  Each of them either had a weapon drawn, or was in the midst of pulling one out.  The Commodore himself sat behind the desk enjoying some throat burning amber whisky.  

Thaddeus did not appear in his ragged state, instead he looked like he did the day before his humiliation.  His resplendent white and maroon uniform complete with admiral insignia gave a sharp look.  He was clean, well groom, and his clothes still fit.  He approached the Commodore who snorted in derisive mockery.  “Well well.  I invited you here so I wouldn’t have to suffer your stink, and yet you come here looking like that?”

Looking down at himself, Thaddeus grumbled.  “I prefer the old fashioned bottle over drug lobbies, and you have never invited me before, so I never felt the need to update myself.”

“Perhaps it is for the best.”  The Commodore wafted the heavy scent of his whisky before continuing.  “Cutting off my sense of smell would make this a half hearted experience.”

Thaddeus came to a stop in front of the desk before glancing around at the bodies.  Even if he couldn’t place the face, he saw the signs of their rank.  “I never took you for someone who entertained revenge fantasies like this.”

“That’s because it isn’t a fantasy.”  Downing his shot, the Commodore poured himself another one.  “I’ve grown tired of their incompetence.  They continued to waste time drinking and bickering amongst themselves instead of reaping what we can from the Innies.  They should have focused their efforts on eliminating the Rainbow Dash.  Without that ship, the Innies would have broken at least two years ago.”

Thaddeus took a closer look at the bodies.  He recognized a couple, and wouldn’t shed any tears over any of them.  “That is a formidable ship for its size, I recall nearly destroying it at least three times, but it always managed to limp back for repairs. 
Even so, how is it the lynchpin of Initiative resistance?  It pales in comparison to Fiery Reckoning or even the Scythe of Terra.”

Flashing a dangerous smile, the Commodore pulled out a long dagger and laid it onto the desk.  Death was a real danger, even in a lobby.  What appeared as a simple blade could just as easily be an ice spike, a virus of sorts that would cause an electric shock in the user’s own body.  “You surprise me.  I thought you'd condemn it for being the final brush stroke of your great failure.”

“Why should I?  The RD was defending its people as would any sailor.”  Thaddeus poignantly glanced about at the corpses surrounding them.  “Something lost on us these days I think.”

Scowling at him, even the Commodore felt lesser than he once was.  He gripped the knife, his hands straining against the hilt for a few seconds as the Commodore wrestled with himself.  In an instant, he let it go, and a casual grin fell over him. 
“You always were too much of a navy man.  That is not the world we live in, not anymore.”  

”So I have seen.”  Thaddeus felt the drink calling to him again, and he eyed the liquor on the desk with envy.  

The Commodore stabbed the knife deep into the table.  ”Come, let us not dwell on what was, but focus on what is. Our work against the Innie’s supplies and scrappers has paid handsomely.  None of the Innie’s capital ships have left their shipyard in a year.  The Navy that brought you low has itself been ravaged by attrition.”

“Ten years too late it would seem.  But why call on me?  You did not summon me to give me a command.  Were you hoping to see me in my current state, just without the smell?”  Thaddeus knew a younger version of himself would be furious at the insult, but now as he closed on his twilight years, he found himself only wishing to partake in the centauri’s whisky.

“On the contrary, old friend, I'm doing you a favor.”  He poured himself another glass without offering one to Thaddeus.  “News from my sources at Felscia claims the body of your old nemesis was recently recovered.”

Thaddeus snorted dismissively. He had to cradle his head as a splitting headache ravaged him. “And?” he asked through clenched teeth, blaming the pain on his hasty sobering up.  “Am I to spit on his name one last time?  He died honorably. I may be at rock bottom, Commodore, but I refuse to start digging out of pettiness.”  

“Ahh, you are a rare breed these days,” the Commodore replied in a tone that Thaddeus couldn’t tell if it was genuine or mockery.  “I’m sure Gleaming Light smiles upon you.  Provided Terra hasn't thrown him into a new life yet.”  Zeroing in a dangerous stare down, the Commodore waved a hand to reveal two ships floating between them.  

The first was the mostly familiar Rainbow Dash.  It was certainly more rugged than Thaddeus remembered.  It had patches of hull that didn’t look as clean as it should have been, and it was completely missing the usual Initiative shield rings.  It also had two large turrets on its dorsal side that it certainly didn’t have before.  The second ship was clearly some kind of heavily modified civilian freighter, but it was completely unknown to him.

“In case you’ve been paying the bottle more attention than local efforts, I’ve been building a strike group to take out the Rainbow Dash for some time now.  The dead around you refused to participate.  Recent events are enabling me to push up the timetable, and they forgot who’s in charge.  

“The Rainbow Dash will be forced to return to Felscia to deliver the body of your old friend.  The other captains are going to strike after it leaves the protective envelope of the colony and begins its slingshot around Tellous three.”

Rubbing his face, Thaddeus hauntingly missed being clean shaven and respectable.  “All I have is a rickety corvette. Have you finally decided to rid yourself of me by naming me the vanguard?”

A humorless chuckle escaped the Commodore as he played with the dagger, gently rocking it loose from the desk.  “As amusing as that would be, no.  I want you to kill the salvagers who found the body.  Since we don’t have the time nor the forces in place to destroy the body before or after it is delivered to the Innie colony, the rite of retribution falls onto the scavengers.  By right, you have first claim to the job, should you wish to drag yourself off the dirt and back into a captain’s chair.  Granted it’s a loose claim, but I am willing to honor it.”  He watched Thaddeus closely, gauging his changing expression. “The frigate Resurgent  is in need of a new captain.  Obey me in this, and I will personally ensure the frigate is yours.” The admiral he once knew was still there, but he was drenched in the foul muck of failure and the debasement of their once proud navy degeneration into privateers.

Nay, the ponies had the right of it. They were pirates now through and through. There was barely any attempt to rebuild like the surviving Initiative. The centauri had slaves working enough hydroponics and industry for them to waste wheat on booze and brothels, but it was all to support the debauchery of the captains.  Thaddeus knew all too well that the Commodore was simply wanting to move his base of operations to the sole habitable planet, rather than sulk on the very fringes of the system.

It pained Thaddeus to be given the choice. For a few moments, he wanted to pretend he was being given a standard commerce raiding assignment. Not exactly a glorious task, but a legitimate one in wartime. But the war was over. He wanted to rebuild like the Initiative was trying to do, but he had no power anymore. Not after his fleet was left broken at Sword Fall and his mistake to send the remnants of it to crash against Trireme. He was a leaf being dragged along a river of nihilism and greed. If I don’t do it, someone else will.  I can at least give them a clean death instead of enslavement.  “Do we know anything about the scavengers?”

“Very little aside from photos.”  Feeling like Thaddeus would commit to the operation, the Commodore put the dagger away, and back into the desk. If nothing else, he didn’t want the threat to distract Thaddeus any further.  He waved at the floating freighter.  “Apparently they’re piloting a junker.  Rumor has it they only recently gave their ship a name: the ICS Cloud Jumper.”  The Commodore scoffed just having to speak it. “Such a painfully Ponish name.”

“Cloud Jumper… Let me guess, one of them is a pegacorn.”

A curious grin fell over the Commodore.  “Right you are.  How did you know?”

“I ran across the phrase while studying Gleaming Light.  Twilight Sparkle was a titan of character, and a personal hero to pegacorns.  And Gleaming’s grandmother.  Jumping off of a cloud was her way of saying to take risks rather than stay safe and untested.”

“You don’t say?” the Commodore asked without wanting a reply.  “Go then.  As a gesture of…  well I won’t say friendship,” he added with a grim toothy smile.  “I will ensure you are well provisioned for your return to the inner sectors.  I trust you will use that time to clean yourself up so next time you won’t have to lie about your appearance when I see you once more.”
> 5: A Night on the Docks
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Trading with the Rainbow Dash took longer than Howling Tempest would have liked. The Cloud Jumper was not properly set up for proper mid-deployment resupply, and Wiggly knew exactly what they had even if she didn’t know how to make use of it. Nevertheless, the trades were finalized and the papers stamped. What was requested of the Rainbow Dash’s technicians was not as easy as rolling pallets across an airlock. Mounting the two turrets, repairing and installing proper flight controls, and the coding for it all was no small task. It didn’t help that once Sprocket saw just how desperate the quartermaster was for some of the parts she leaned into him. 

So it was that the Cloud Jumper tagged along after the light combat carrier to Felscia Shipyard. Upon getting close, the siblings plastered their faces against the screens. 

The blue, green, white, and brown marble of New Tranquility was a sight to behold for the spacer rats. Close by, and difficult to make out due to the planet, was the shipyard. In its heyday, the long spindly station was a forest of partially enclosed bays and docks. All manner of ships from the largest civilian liners to battleships to single pony shuttles were in constant traffic. 

The war had shattered Felscia shipyard into eight large pieces with a debris cloud that was only recently cleared away. The core of the shipyard had also been made whole once more, as well as multiple docks.   However, these docks were lifeless, save for two which housed capital ships that had not left port in years. The heyday of scores of mass freight, commuting passengers, and crowded airwaves of traffic controls had been reduced to a pale shadow. There was a spattering of warships encircling the living corpse, immobilized by lack of supply. 

With pirates making the asteroids untouchable for miners, much of the industry had to be moved planetside. However, that was a long and expensive process which was only in the last month starting to fabricate advanced machinery once more. But the order of the day remained rebuilding the industrial base, with the navy taking the scraps. Anything bigger than a corvette was still many years away from being flush with supply and spare parts. 

Even so, the shipyard still lived up to the name.  The station’s core had repurposed the larger cargo receiving areas into repair bays for small craft. The only dock capable of genuinely servicing a warship was restored for the Rainbow Dash, and she was arriving at this very moment. 

The Cloud Jumper pulled away from its escort and docked at one of the repair bays. Much like Trireme, the chamber was pressurized thanks to the atmospheric shielding. 

While her brother completed the landing, Wiggly Sprocket was practically bouncing on her hooves as she eagerly awaited visiting the fabled Felscia Shipyard. Once every light turned green she slapped the open button and the loading ramp came down. Trotting on down, she took in the sights. Patrol wings were in various states of repair, the air stank of exhaust and machine lubricants, industrial music pounded over the PA speakers, ponies from front to back edge hard at work keeping it all going. 

She took a long deep breath, and exhaled out of satisfaction. Now this is where I belong. Fixing up starships and getting dirty doing it. Her wings quivered at the sight of an interceptor that was pulled open for an overhaul. Her eyes went wide at the instinctual draw to put it all back together and hear the engine purr. Flaring her wings, Wiggly started floating over to do just that. She needed to touch the interceptor, inspect every nut and bolt, to feel the rumble of the engine. 

That is, until a hoof grabbed her back right leg and tugged her back down to the floor. “Whoa there, idgit, you’re lucky you got to land here at all. There’s no way I’m letting you anywhere near my work.”

Still in the throes of her need to fix things, Wiggly resisted without paying the mare holding her even an ounce of attention. “Just let me touch it, and get me a tool box. I need to see how it works. How to fix it.”

“Hey!”  The mare yelled loudly and spun Wiggly around to be face to face. “Snap out of it, Sparky, or I’ll toss you right back on your ship and post a guard to keep you there!”

The derogatory term did the trick and broke Sprocket out of her trance, and she hastily felt her horn to ensure the mesh was still there. Seeing as it was still in place, she fixed the mechanic with a scornful glare. That glare faltered after realizing the mare was a pegacorn as well.  The other mare wore a dirty work suit that identified her as crew chief Loose Bolt. “That was uncalled for.”

“Was it?” Loose Bolt retorted hotly. “You got the urge, and you got it somethin’ fierce.  Keep your nose where it belongs. If that proves too difficult for you, you can forget about the work order we have with this heap of junk.”

Deeply incensed, Wiggly dearly wished to wring the mare’s neck for the comment, but murder wasn’t on the table yet.  So she had to settle for words alone. “My baby is not a heap of junk.”

Seeing that she was getting through, the mechanic chief made a show of eyeing the freighter. “It won’t be after me and the boys have a go at it… Wait a second.”  The crew chief had a flash of confusion as she surveyed the interior, then rechecked the work order detailing the scans the Rainbow Dash had on file. “Is this a terrapin freighter?”

Adopting a superior smirk and haughty shaking her head, Wiggly fully expected accolades now. “She is. You should have seen what she looked like when I got her.”  Wiggly dearly wished she had her slate with her. “Just wait til I find a picture. I’d like to see you do better on a poor mare’s budget.”

Loose Bolt rubbed a featherless wing along the vessel’s hull, taking a keen interest in the feel and sound. “This is AY-57 grade adamantite.”  She scrutinized Wiggly Sprocket closely. “You pulled this off a destroyer.”

The heat in Bolt’s voice made Sprocket grow wearily defensive. “Which was legal by the way due to the right of salvage.”

Bolt groaned, completely dismissing the legality of the issue. “I don’t care about that. I wanna know how two ponies pulled this much armor.”  Bolt took several steps back, looking for welding lines. “And as big’a chunks as you have…” The crew chief's eyes dilated completely open. She rounded on Wiggly. “You found a tether gun, didn’t you!”

Alarm bells sounded in Wiggly’s head hard enough to cause ringing in her ears. The tether gun was priceless, and fears it could be forcibly requisitioned away from her surged.  “No.  Wire and I just had to muscle it over.”

“I’ll pay you for it.”

Sensing it could be a trap, Wiggly held firm. “I told you I don’t have one.”

Not buying that for a second, the crew chief persisted. “I’ll let you help with the repairs around here.”

Starting to sweat as Sprocket couldn’t stop herself from looking around the bay, her mouth went dry. She wasn’t thinking straight anymore. Her wings were slowly flaring as she saw a shuttle, a fighter, then a reentry cargo plane, all of which were just begging for a mechanic’s touch. “I -  well.”

Live Wire came down the ramp and bumped Wiggly hard enough to derail her thoughts. “Hey, clown, you square things away with-”  He saw the crew chief and recognized her from the picture the flight controller provided. “Oh, hey. I didn’t think you’d meet us at the ramp.”

Seeing how Wiggly was calming down, Bolt feared her chance was lost. “This is my bay, so I prefer to know who's in it.”  Adopting a matter-of-fact expression, Bolt made a show of surveying the Cloud Jumper. “‘Fraid you’re going to take a while. The work order for this tub is too extensive to just get you in and out.”

“Ahh, that’s a real shame,” Live Wire started with a disappointed ‘tsk’. “Thing is, we came across a pantry and freezer half the size of our little lady.”  He tapped a hoof on the ramp. “I was going to cook up some choice prime rib, fully loaded baked potatoes, and seasoned asparagus. I’d be happy to make an extra plate for whoever helped us get out of your mane that much quicker.”

Sprocket hastily grabbed his head and pulled it close to her own. “What are you doing?!”

“Relax. You don’t spend years behind a desk without knowing how to grease the wheels.”

When the siblings separated without a resending of the offer, Bolt glanced about, knowing full well how quick news of such a deal would spread. “You have all that?”

Wiggling his head back and forth, Wire leveled a sly grin. “It all got a bit of freezer burn, but it’s still top shelf. Sprocket and I have been living like alicorns since we left.”

Loose Bolt hemmed and hawed over the prospect. “Ten heads and tomorrow’s lunch too, and we can get you outta here in two weeks.”

Live Wire laughed happily, and gave his sister a knowing wink. “You got a deal.”





Elsewhere, on the shipyard, a gathering of sixty pilots and other flight crews were celebrating a safe return home.  With Gleaming Light’s official funeral slated to happen in a week, now was the time for booze, song, and everything in between.

The fliers of the Rainbow Dash were the guests of honor, while those who patrolled around the colony and shipyard toasted, drank, and roasted them.  The middle was a busy dance floor, but since she couldn’t bring Live Wire to the party, she avoided it. The end closer to the center of the station however was the ‘story corner’. Using augmented reality, they visually recreated tales of ‘daring do’ straight from memory.

On the other side of the room rested the bar and karaoke stage. Winter Gale sat aloof on the stool closest to the stage. Presently, only drunken pop rock songs were going on, and it was only mildly more interesting than the thin beer she was nursing. She pined for the songs of her homeworld, and the melodious spirit she shared with all ponies simply wasn’t satisfied by such paltry, drunken off-key singing coming from the crowd.  

Jerrycan surprised Winter by coming up next to her and sitting down. The telekinetic pull of the stool kept him rooted. “There you are, your highness.”

“Oh sush,” she lightly chastised her half drunken co-pilot. Nopony really questioned the strange honorific, so she left it at that. She was silent for a spell as he ordered a drink.  No matter how many times he addressed her as such, it left her pining to see her family again.  “I do miss our home, though. Our sailors knew how to sing no matter how deep into their cups they were.”

Jerrycan grinned broadly at the foamy ale brought his way. “Are you kidding?  We had an art to singing in tune while completely plastered.”

She gave a side grin at him. “I’ve heard of that, but never got a chance to see it.”

“Is that so?”  Jerrycan laughed uproariously and slammed a hoof onto the bar. “You know what?  I’m not surprised at all, given where you grew up.”  He claimed his ale and guzzled it in one long go, rivulets of ale ran down his face. It was an act that elicited a distant yet impressed eyebrow out of her. “You remember that one song?  Ahhh what was the name…” He clicked his teeth trying to remember. “You know, the one our flight instructor taught us before we were sent out.”

“Fish of the Midnight Sea,” she answered with a smile full of nostalgia. 

“Well go on then.”  He pointed at the karaoke stand. 

Her musical nature warred with her trepidation. “I am not nearly drunk enough to lead a song.”

He leered at her with a bit of annoyed humor. “Since when do you drink enough to get drunk, your highness?”

“My point exactly.”

Snorting at the challenge, Jerrycan spun around and waved down the bartender. “Gimme a blackout stout!”

“Wanting to end the night early?” The barkeeper asked with derisive humor as a few other patrons started to take notice. 

A large black mug with a foam that utterly reeked of powerful alcohol slid over to a stop between the two pilots. The stout was tailor made for cyborgs, as there was more to it than alcohol and flavoring. So much so that the more natural you were, the less it affected you.   

It might as well have been a glass of cyanide to her. Winter shrank away from such a concoction.  “That thing would kill me.”

“Ahh don’t be such a pomp. You're only fifty percent prosthetic. You’ll be fine.”  Jerrycan pushed the cup towards Winter who pushed it right back. 

“If I drank like you did, maybe.  I never got a liver replacement because I don’t need one.”

“You’ll fight a squadron of Rubies, but can’t stand in front of a crowd or drink some proper booze.”

“Proper?” She scoffed. “Proper is a glass of red with sweet meats,” Winter confessed readily. 

“Eggghhh,”  Jerrycan turned his nose up at the idea. The thought of wine had the whole bar was paying attention.  Some were quietly taking bets on if either of them would actually drink the borderline toxic tankard. 

Seeing this and not wanting her reputation as a warrior to be tarnished, Winter stood up and primped herself to remove any wrinkles in her uniform. “Singing it is then. But you need to do the chorus.”

“Ah ha! Now this will be fun.”

With the current singer on the stand passed out from drinking, Winter flew up to it and daintily used the edge of her right hoof to shove the other pilot off the stand so it would recognize her as the new singer. A few of the pilot’s friends jeered the previous singer for her poor performance and helped drag her fully off the stage. 

Once done, a list of songs appeared in front of Winter. She dismissed them all to focus. She cleared her throat and scanned for Jerrycan. He had taken his place front and center of the crowd. Winter couldn’t help but to grin a bit at the support. “I’ll be singing a shanty from my homeworld.”  It was all the preamble she gave before grabbing the holographic mic in front of her. 

Her voice came strong and with a steady tempo. “Come all you spacefarers, young and hale. I'll sing you a song of our home from the pale.”  She projected the next few stanzas for the crowd to see. 
  
Jerrycan joined in for the chorus, with Winter adding her voice as well. “And it's windy weather, boys, stormy weather.  When the wind blows, then we're all together.  Boys blow ye winds fringeward, blow ye winds, blow.  Out to the galaxy, steady she goes!”  With each word of the chorus, more and more ponies joined in. 

Winter fell into a groove and sang with strength and comradery. “Up comes the Ruby Fleet in search of our home. Through space to a place that's beneath shade and throne!”

Now the whole crowd joined in with gusto. “And it's windy weather, boys, stormy weather. When the wind blows, then we're all together.  Boys blow ye winds fringeward, blow ye winds, blow.  Out to the galaxy, steady she goes.”

Winter was enthralled by the love of the crowd, and let the music flow freely.  “Through fire and flame, they made to torch us all. Daring and brave, our sailors flew to answer the call.”

“And it's windy weather, boys, stormy weather.  When the wind blows, then we're all together.  Boys blow ye winds fringeward, blow ye winds, blow.   Out to the galaxy, steady she goes.”

Rocking with the melody, Winter matched the crowd’s surging energy. “With honor and valor our guns did speak. We chased them back from every pond and peak.”

Ponies from the dance floor were breaking away to join in, and the bar patrons were rocking their drinks. “And it's windy weather, boys, stormy weather.  When the wind blows, then we're all together.  Boys blow ye winds fringeward, blow ye winds, blow.  Out to the galaxy, steady she goes!”

“Time and again we fought for our home, we found the Rubies wherever they be. Now that it’s over, hold your head high and taste victory.”

“And it's windy weather, boys, stormy weather.  When the wind blows, then we're all together.  Boys blow ye winds fringeward, blow ye winds, blow.  Out to the galaxy, steady she goes!”

With that, Winter Gale took a bow and the words vanished. The crowd cheered with wild abandon. Still overwhelmed by the thrill of music, Winter waved at them all as she stepped off the stage. 

The fame barely lasted a minute before a new singer took her place, eager to ride on her coattails. It didn’t bother her overmuch though. As the thrill ebbed, her desire for a quiet place to rest and center herself grew quickly. 

Jerrycan weaved through the crowd, and found her awaiting him at the bar. “You changed the words up.”

“Aye. I’d like to think mother would approve.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” he claimed while sweeping a hoof to the crowd. All other festivities had been abandoned as the system’s pilots indulged their instinctual need for song. 

Winter was about to join in, only to be pinged with a lobby invitation. Hastily assuming it was Live Wire, she accepted without thought.  “Watch over me, Jerry, I got an invite.”  Her body slumped against Jerrycan as her consciousness flew back to the Rainbow Dash. She materialized inside the captain’s office again. 

Even in cyberspace it was a spartan affair, just a desk and a neutrally lit room. He typically saved it for disciplinary hearings anyway, but tonight he had an approving look on his face. A look that morphed into a wiry grin upon seeing she was still sober. “Ahh, First Lieutenant, my apologies for interrupting your festivities so early.”

What he said next didn’t register to Winter Gale. Being in this office set her on edge. She tried to salute him, but hit her brow a bit too hard. Pain was present, even in cyberspace. “Did I do wrong, sir?”

“Not at all, not at all.”  Howling Tempest completely ignored her panicked state and returned the salute hoping it would set her at ease. “Please, sit down.”  He summoned a seat cushion to which she tumbled into more so than anything else.  “Normally I would have waited until after the party, but time is a bit critical. You’ve received new transfer orders.”

He handed her a sheet of paper, and the mare took it while rocking on her cushion. “A flight instructor!?”

“More of an assistant instructor to start, but yes. Your time on the RD is invaluable to new pilots.  Congratulations.”  He held out a hoof to shake hers. 

Riddled with self-doubt, Winter didn’t want to take that hoof. Her heart belonged to the midnight sea, and to her comrades. To leave the Rainbow Dash felt like she was getting sidelined.  Winter didn’t feel like celebrating anymore. “Sssir, is there any way I can decline?”

The side of Howling Tempest’s lips jerked up. “One go around flight school was enough for you?”  The tears starting to run down her face was all the evidence he needed that the transfer would end poorly. “In that case, I can come to the reason I called you now as opposed to the morning.”

Howling Tempest manifested a new piece of paper beside him. “Your transfer to flight school would be effective tomorrow, but I have an alternative transfer option, should you desire this instead.  I’m afraid either way, you will have to leave the RD. As good of a flier as you are, other pilots need to be honed by carrier deployment as well.”

Sniffing and wiping tears away, Winter worriedly grabbed the page. Her breath hitched upon reading it. Then a second time. A third just to make sure the system didn’t mess with her eyes somehow. “The - Cloud Jumper?!”

“Aye.”  Howling Tempest gave a long somber sigh. “I want that ship protected.  High Command authorized me to give the salvagers an attaché to aid in their survival.  Be it your piloting skill or your talent in EW, I’ll rest easier knowing at least one salvager has a better chance out there. As I understand, they plan to leave in two weeks. I wish I could grant you more time to make a decision, but the school needs your answer by 0800 tomorrow. so I would come to a decision quickly on the matter if I were you.”

The emotional shock was too much and Winter was utterly dumbstruck by the offer.  Being at Live Wire's side was already playing heavily on her.  She remembered all too well how the mechanic crews were utterly delighted by the supplies the Cloud Jumper had delivered, let alone the reserve pilots were finally able to fly as well as the squadron could be brought up to full strength for a month.  If I can save Wire and the freighter alive, I can keep our boys flying.  Worried looking far too eager could look back on her, the only thing she could think to do was fall back on her training.  She saluted robotically, and spoke loud and proud.  “Thank you, sir.”

It was a look he had seen before; himself when he was given command of the Rainbow Dash.  “Dismissed, Lieutenant, and good luck.”






Winter pulled herself back into her body, and she woke up with a start.  Jerrycan had dutifully stood guard over her, yet that didn’t stop him from sipping the nearly forgotten blackout stout, as he tested to see how much he could handle before the drink lived up to its name. He stopped short of his next swig when she roused. “There you are. The club’s not exactly the best place to go diving into the net, your highness.”

She pulled herself away and blindly smoothed her mane.  Her eyes darted around to see if her absence had drawn any mocking eyes.  “It was the captain, actually.  He had transfer orders for me.”

Sighing in disappointment, Jerrycan set the mug back down.  “Well damn.”  He shot her an approving snort.  “We were bound to be pulled apart at some point.  Honestly, I’d rather the captain separate us as opposed to some lucky ruby.”

“Aye,” she added with a forlorn, thin smile.  As much as she wanted to be with Live Wire, Jerrycan had watched her back for years.  “But who knows, maybe you’ll get orders soon too.”

Giving a wiggling shrug of helpless ignorance, Jerrycan finally shoved the stout away and ordered something that wouldn’t make him drop to the floor.  “Ehhh, maybe.  Who knows, maybe I’ll be promoted out of the cockpit.”  He heavily dropped his head on the bar, uncaringly rattling the nearby glasses.  “Instead of dying at sea, I waste away in a classroom.”

Shivering at the thought of new prospective air crew turning to him for instruction was not something she saw for him.  “I almost got that fate.  But Tempest let me go with Live Wire’s ship instead.”

With a jerking head move towards her, Jerrycan flashed a toothy derisive grin.  “You’re kidding me.”

Falling back on a dignified posture, Winter disliked his insinuation by his expression alone.  “I’m there to lend my expertise to ensure their survival.”

“Uh huh, and to get busssy!”  He laughed wholeheartedly, earning red faced embarrassment out of Winter.  “What is it with your family and marrying down?  Is it some tradition you’re upholding or something?”  She made to reply, but he waved it off.  “Oh don’t worry about me.  If he’s the one, then don’t hang around on my account.”

Her cheeks returned to normal, and she pulled a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am.”  He rested a friendly hoof on her withers, and shored up as much seriousness as his increasingly inebriated face could muster.  “It was an honor to watch over you, your highness, but if anypony is going to take over for me, let it be the stallion who claimed your heart.”  He paused for a moment as his face darkened a touch. “Does Wire know?”

She shied away, hugging herself with her wings. “No.”

He gave a neutral huff. “Eh, it won’t matter if we die before Faraway is repaired.  So just do what you think is right.”   He grabbed a mug and rose it in a toast.  “To you.”

Giving a knowing smile, Winter was grateful he only ever went as far as ‘your highness’.  She lifted the other mug and clicked his own.  “And to you.”





Bright and early the following day, as Wiggly Sprocket tested all of the newly installed equipment, Live Wire was cleaning up the kitchen. The telekinetic pusher they had poached from the Sword’s kitchen made the process much simpler in the microgravity. The facsimile of gravity it created was a blessing all on its own. Several other pushers had been wired into one of the hallways so the siblings could exercise, yet medication still proved to be their ‘go-to’ for combatting the long term effects of microgravity. 

He was whistling a cartoon theme song from his childhood as he scrubbed down the stove. Pulling back to admire his work, the stainless steel was as spotless as its name implied.  “Nothing like a clean kitchen after a great meal.”  

He stashed away his cleaning supplies when the ship itself buzzed him. Imposing itself on his vision was the loading ramp with a welcome sight waiting for an answer. “Winter!  I’ll be right there.”

Making his way out of the kitchen and through the cargo bay, Wire was giving off a mad grin to embrace her once more before they left. 

He arrived at the ramp fast enough to almost miss hitting the open button. Twisting himself to sail through the top as it barely opened in time. Spotting his unaware prey, he kicked off the overhang and stretched his forelegs open wide. “Rawr!”

Moving purely out of instinct, Winter Gale flared her wings and got out of the way, resulting in Wire nearly slamming his face on the deck. He barely got his legs up to shield his head before the collision. 

Winter cupped her mouth with a hoof out of empathic pain and embarrassment. “Wire, are you okay?!”  She flew over to keep him from drifting off into the bay. 

Trying to suppress the pained tears in his eyes, he tried to wink at her. Yet his protective efforts were for naught as his nose was badly reddened and his forelegs were in agony. “Didn’t feel a thing.”

“You’re such a laudable idiot.”  Winter helped him out by pulling him back over to the ramp. 

“Laudable, eh?” He joked nasally, trying to distract himself from the pain. “I’ll take what I can get.”

A small part of Winter was glad he had inadvertently clogged his nose. Winter preferred to wear various perfume during their time in private lobbies. Matters were made worse by the stink of hard apple cider saturating her fur. Winter partied with the rest of the crew long into the wee hours of the morning only because it was expected of her. Even though she barely drank, others constantly splashed their drinks on each other as some wasteful tradition. Presently though, she fussed over his bruised nose, idling wondering if he would refuse some makeup to hide the bruising if she actually carried any. “You should know better than to try and ambush a pilot like that.”  She pulled out a box of tissues from a small saddlebag, and offered one to him to stop any bleeding before it happened. 

“I might get you one day. But - ow - maybe I’ll save the speedy attacks for a lobby.”  Hooking a hoof around a handle, Wire more or less secured himself to the ramp. Winter uses her wings to remain free, yet close. “You’re early. I thought for sure you’d pop up around lunch.”  Before slamming his nose onto the deck, he had detected the sink clinging to her, but avoided it to keep from embarrassing her. 

“I would have loved to clean myself up better, but things have come up.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re already leaving.” Wire dabbed his nose with the tissue and was annoyed it indeed came back with blood. 

Giving a wistful smile, Winter nuzzled his cheek to avoid the blood. “My time on the Dash is on hold for a while.”  She saw him getting flooded with anxiety in a hurry. So she pressed on to keep him from sinking into despair. “I was offered a couple of transfer options. Can you believe they want me to be a flight instructor?”

“Sure I can.”  He nodded his thanks as more tissues were presented for his bloody nose.  His elation was strong enough to make him let go and float freely for a few moments.  “If even half the stuff you boast about is real, you’ll be great at it.”

Giving off a self-disparaging smirk, Winter looked at the ground. “Hardly.”  She held out a leathery wing to flex a knot. “I can maybe teach somepony who is already a natural flier, but those who aren’t?  Not a clue.” She didn’t want to hear any more words of encouragement down that path, so she cut him off by placing a wing over his opening mouth. “Besides, I have a better option.”  She mentally commanded a letter to appear before him. 

As the wing fell away, Wire held his tongue for the moment, as he read the highlighted text. “Here?!”  He looked at her utterly dumbfounded. 

Giggling behind a hoof, Winter nodded vigorously. “Precisely. The captain thought I could help protect you with electronic warfare if the pirates ever showed themselves.”  She held back the flying potential, as she was not one to rob a pilot of the midnight sea.

Laughing with utter abandon, Wire roped her into a crushing hug. “That’s amazing!”  They shared a few more moments before he separated. He adopted a stoic posture, but didn’t bother trying to hide his stupid smile. “Then as the skipper, let me formally welcome you to the crew.”

Her own smile faltered however, as concern revealed itself. “Sprocket’s not going to take issue with it is she?”  Winter’s imagination of the protective pegacorn getting violent over being around Wire so much started to cripple her resurgent excitement. 

“‘Course not!”  Wire couldn’t contain himself and was starting to forget to keep the tissues on his snout, even as the bleeding was ebbing away. “We have four cabins, so there’s plenty of room.” <Hey, Wiggs, get your tail down to the cabins!> 

“Oh good.”  Winter actually sighed in relief, hoping using separate rooms would give Sprocket time to get used to her.  The two mares had never actually met since the all natural pegacorn couldn’t enter lobbies. “I’ll go grab my bag.”

“Let me show you to your room first,” he practically insisted. “You’ll love it, a family friend did some great work on it. They also double as escape pods, believe it or not.”

Using a wing claw to pull an errant lock of hair behind her ear, Winter grinned at the idea. “Sounds fun.”

The couple slid past the cargo bay that was now almost completely bare. Aside from a set of tools and a few spare parts of their own, the siblings had sold just about everything. Not even boxes remained, leaving the cargo room with enough space to host a hoof ball court with ease. 

They found a grease stained and fatigued Wiggly Sprocket yawning and floating in mid air. She was wearing a newly purchased Twilight Glove, a metal and cloth mesh around her wings that allowed flight.  Her curiosity perked her up upon seeing Winter Gale tagging behind her brother. “Bro, seriously, I don’t need to know when the two of you plan to get nasty. Just tie a sock on the door.”

Winter’s face went tomato red at the comment and she hid her face behind her mane as best as the microgravity allowed. It was one thing to talk about such things with her fellow pilots, but here with the stallion she loved, it was intensely embarrassing. So much so she could only stutter, enabling Wire to speak for her. 

“Not a bad idea.”  

The redness on Winter’s face stretched down to her neck.

“But no. I wanted to let you know she’s been given leave to join our crew!”

“Join us, eh?”  Sprocket’s wings hummed as she closed in. She gave the navy pilot a studious evil eye. “You get one physical date, and you’re already trying to move in?”

Suddenly realizing that’s exactly how it looked, Winter sputtered with half-baked excuses, and her embarrassment spiked. 

Rising to her defense, Live Wire magically pulled Sprocket away from his marefriend. “Wiggs, play nice wouldja?  You can’t tell me you haven’t been wanting to hire an extra set of hooves.  A free set of hooves I might add.”

“Free eh?”  Sprocket eyed the blushing mare with a sinister grin. “Didn’t realize you were-”  Wiggly was cut short by Live Wire magically clamping her mouth shut. 

“Wiggs,” he started dangerously, even as she kept trying to mumble on through shut lips. Wire flashed a sheepish grin at Winter who was starting to have doubts over Sprocket.  “Don’t worry, this is how she tells ponies she likes them. Why don’t you go grab your bags, so I can have a small, little, tiny, itty bitty, chat with gnat brain here?”

Winter had not signed either transfer yet, so she glanced between the siblings with a dubious look. Troublesome coworkers she could handle just fine, but if Sprocket’s assumed jealousy was already this bad, it risked Winter’s relationship with Live Wire. And that was something she adamantly wanted to avoid. “Are you sure I should stay?”

“Absolutely, you’ll fit right in.”  Wire shared an easy grin with his marefriend. He casually flicked a text her way. <Wiggly is strange to get used to, but she doesn’t mean anything by it.>

At that moment, Winter couldn’t tell if those two were actually siblings or bantered like an old married couple. She hoped it was the former. Deciding to trust him, Winter Gale exhaled some stress and nodded. “Okay.  I’ll grab my bags.”  Getting excited, Winter wanted to kiss him, but with Sprocket eyeing her so intently, Winter opted against it and simply left.

Once Winter was fully out of sight, Wire pulled Sprocket in close and leveled his own brotherly evil eye of ultimate doom at her. “Wiggs, she’s a bloody navy pilot and a great mare. If you screw this up for me, I will make your life hell for every month Winter’s been my marefriend.”

Finally tearing her muzzle away from his magical grip, Wiggly tried to snort his threat away. “Oh come on, Wire. If you actually plan to make her part of the family, she’s gotta be able to handle the bants.”

“See this is why you have no friends.  Mostly,” he clarified as she tried to open her mouth. “You have to ease her into your Wiggyisms.”

“Oh come on, Wire. She’s a fighter pilot. A navy fighter pilot. I ought to be the one running away red-faced, not her.”

Trying to be patient with her, Live Wire nonetheless was steaming.  “You are all foam and no beer.   Can ya at least give her a few days to settle in first?  If Winter snipes at you first then by all means, but until then, keep the bants to just me.”

“Ugh, sure, fine, okay.”  Wiggly folded her forelegs and made an over exaggerated move as if she were coddling a child.  “I’ll play nice.  But once the game gets going, there’s no holding back.”

Giving his sister a flat look, Wire tried to flick her horn, yet she pulled back in time.  “Just try to keep it proportional.”
> 6:  Merchant's Creed 285
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A week after departing Felicia Shipyard, The Cloud Jumper was burning at top speed towards the ruins of Ponoplious Station.  The long dead industrial heart of the system orbited over the third moon of a pale green gas giant just outside the inner asteroid belt.  It was risky venturing past the moderate safety of the inner sectors, but the rewards were too tempting.  So tempting in fact that Live Wire had to remind himself repeatedly to be on the lookout for any threats.  With the Rainbow Dash  still in port when they left, that left the fighter and corvette patrols to protect friendly space.  But with the shipyard in the solar north and Trireme in the solar east, that left them dangerously exposed in the southwest.  However, with their new turrets and armor, even Winter felt comfortable that they could fend off scout attacks.

Still, he felt more at ease with his marefriend here to lend her experienced eyes.  Presently, he was in the pilot’s seat with Winter Gale leaning over his shoulder due to the cockpit being a one-pony place.  While he wanted to sneak in the occasional kiss or nuzzle, the mare was in her element and was so focused on instruction that it surprised her each time.  The latest nuzzle finally broke her concentration entirely.

“Wire, you are hopeless, you know that?” she said with a light giggle and an easy smile as she enjoyed the constant attention.  “I’ve been here a week now and you keep acting like this.” 

“Can you blame me?  A fool caught the eye of a shining star, and you expect him not to enjoy every moment of it?”

Outwardly, Winter was all too happy to accept his love, but inwardly, she was still surprised with herself.  To think I used to curse the day I joined the Navy.  Would I have found such a stallion back home, or would I still be a lone soul constantly chasing the short lived and the brave until love became an impossible dream?  Considering where they were, the short-lived part was unfortunately still on the table, but at least now she could stand at his side.  

Looming in the void beyond was the first gas giant of the system: Discord. It was a mass of green, yellow, and brown gas that sped around in distinct bands, and possessed no less than eight storms that had persisted since before the first settlers arrived. Their destination was in orbit of the brown and gray wind-blown rocky fifth moon: Ponopilous station. It used to be the beating heart of manufacturing for the whole sector. Now though, all that remained was a shattered wreck, and was only the heart of a minefield now. 

“Alright, Casanova, we’re close to our approach.  As much as it pains me, how about less kisses and more focus?”  

His yielding smile faltered and his gaze drifted, a sign to her that Sprocket was talking to him.  He winced a second later, making Winter’s heart sink.  A few moments of unconscious head shakes and nods later, he ended the call and spoke up with a touch of humor.  “Apparently Sprocket was too distracted maintaining the fuel lines to focus properly.  Which probably means she was salivating over our destination.  At any rate, a water pipe burst on her face.  Can you head down there with a vacuum while I manage things here?”

A sullen expression marred Winter’s face, and she pulled back into the hallway.  “Why do I get the feeling she asked you to do it?”

Live Wire was not oblivious to the rift between the two mares, and that it was in no small way his fault.  He got up off the chair to face her with a pained look.  “Winny, I - I told her to watch what she says around you, and apparently she took that as don’t say anything.  If you’re that uncomfortable with it, I’ll go.”

Shocked, Winter shrinked back and lifted a forehoof a bit.  “I - I understand our first face-to-face was surprisingly crass, but…”  She hesitated, not wanting the admonishment on her lips to pass through.  He wants me to go to help heal things.    Now that she knew his plan, Winter couldn’t bring herself to reprimand him for it.  “Stay here, boogie bear, I'll go.”  She leaned forward and pecked him on the lips, just to ensure he wasn’t left thinking she was mad.





Several days earlier, an angular and angry red centauri corvette prowled closer to the core worlds. The bridge, if the three person room could be called that, stank of medication. Several bottles of Galatea were scattered around Thaddeus’ seat. It was a ‘beverage’ meant to slowly cure addiction. Whether it worked or not would have to wait until they returned to port. Seated next to him was Felin. If Thaddeus flew and navigated the ship, she was the comms officer and flight director for the three fighters clamped under the corvette. The third seat belonged to a kirin who was the fire director and he maintained overwatch for the corvette’s systems. 

They were prowling in the depths while parsing out the latest intel on their quarry. What they had though was paltry at best. 

Thaddeus drank the swill of his Galatea, having long since learned to tolerate the foul sticky taste. In a drawer, a dozen pill bottles resided to aid his hasty effort in repairing his addled mind. On his screen was a zoomed out view of Felicia. A single blue line heading away from the shipyard marked his prey. Unfortunately, their flight plan was missing past the first day of travel. 

Felin leaned over to him. She had splurged on herself and had a tailor fix her uniform. It was patchy, and not all of the colors were the same shade, but at least it wasn’t going to fall apart. “Have any idea where they went?”

He rubbed his sweating face, trying to ignore the aches, pains, and other much worse side effects of his treatment. “So they went solar south… could make an interception easier.”  He furrowed his brow and narrowed his gaze. “Provided they didn’t change course. Just have to narrow down where they plan to go.”  He turned his gaze to his trusted second. “Felin, do we have access to the Innies’ comms network?”

The drake cleared her throat, briefly filling the room with brimstone. “The Commodore was not exactly forthcoming about who or what our sources are. As for our intel, what you have now is what we got.”

He grumbled obscenities at the universe. “There never was such truncated information access back in the day.”  

Rather than answer, Felin let the sentiment lie. “We do know of what sites a salvager might visit on that heading.”  Using her implant, she sent the information to his screen. 

Rubbing his forehead in an attempt to stay focused, Thaddeus scrutinized the fifteen new green dots on his screen.  He was no salvager, but he had ideas. Battlefields and stations.  There's no shortage of opportunities.  Humming in thought, he faced Felin. “Any chance we know which ones have already been picked clean by previous savage efforts?”

“Not off hand, but I’ll contact home and see if anyone bothered tracking such things.”

Thaddeus didn’t have much hope in that effort, so he refocused on the map. He had not been in overall command of the war effort, but he was among the inner circle. There’s plenty of battle sites… but still…  

For hours he mulled over the data. Felin came through for him just before dinner, and he was able to knock off several sites and two derelict stations off the list. What remained was simply too vast of an area to effectively track a single ship. 

It was late, and he still clawed at the problem even as the night shift took over around him. Only Felin remained at his side, deciding to rest only when Thaddeus did the same. 

Gah!  I’m not getting anywhere with this.  Giving up on trying to parse out what location could possibly offer the best salvage, he at last directed his thoughts to his second. “They went to Sword Fall. They obviously have knowledge over naval equipment. So they could be going after Fey’s Rest, as it’s the closest to them. But that means their skipper is a navy veteran, and will go elsewhere to avoid being too obvious with their movements. But on the other hand, Harper’s Folly is twice Fey’s size, so more profit. Further than that, perhaps they will select a civilian station to throw us off. In that case…” He stopped, and grumbled madly. 

Having been a student of his as well as his second, Felin had not been mentally idle on the question either. “Sir, perhaps you're missing the nose for the face.”

Giving her a puzzled look, he said, “I don’t follow.”

“During my own investigation, home base stated this was the Cloud Jumper’s  first job.  It's entirely possible that the ponies want us to think the crew are civilians to throw us off.”

He winced as he thought it over. It wasn’t a bad observation, but he- “Wait.”  He sat up in his chair, his mind racing. “Cloud Jumper.  What I fool I am for not seeing it!”

The sheer excitement and energy took Felin by surprise. “See what sir?”

“It was the vessel’s first job.  That much we know, and the first thing they do is retrieve the body of my erstwhile rival, yes?”  Thaddeus grew more animated now, as if he were twenty years younger. He tapped the screen to bring up one of the green dots. “This freighter captain is bold. Perhaps too much for their own good.  They want fame.  Glory.  Tell me, Felin. What could cause a bigger stir than Gleaming Light’s recovery?”

To aid Felin, he rotated the screen to face her. On it was a massive derelict station tucked away in orbit over a dusty moon. 

“Ponopilous?” she started, searching his intense gaze for clues. “It was the industrial center of the Initiative before the war. Do you think they’re going there to locate schematics or irreplaceable machinery?”

“Think bigger.”  Thaddeus eyed the screen with a certainty known only by the bold, the knowledgeable, or the foolish. “You recall the Initiative was planning on using Ponopilous as a forge nexus for future expansion?  That includes creating mass nullifiers for future gateways like Faraway Station.”

Felin was left doubtful. “If I may, sir. If there was still an intact nullifier at Ponopilous, surely the Innies would have retrieved it long ago.”

“One would think,” he conceded with a wave of both hands. “Perhaps our salvagers are testing their luck, hoping to find one.  Barring that perhaps they are there to take the machines necessary to manufacture the nullifiers. Either way.”  Thaddeus tapped the screen as the old admiral shined through. “That’s where they’re going. And the best part is, we can get there a day ahead of them.”







Back in the present day, the Cloud Jumper  was nearing the dusty moon, and Live Wire was easing his way into orbit around it.  The minefield around Ponopilous was tight around the old station rather than loosely spread out like it was at Sword Fall, but he readied the IFF code early, just to be safe.  With no threats even passively revealing themselves since leaving the shipyard, he was lazily whistling an advertisement tune.

Down below, Winter came through with the vacuum, and was in the crawl space Wiggly Sprocket had been repairing.  She dutifully sucked up each floating globule of water, only now it was getting harder to do with the ship decelerating a bit.

Knowing just how dangerous free floating water could be, the mares had barely shared a few words between them before Winter got to work vacuuming up the water. Being so close to Sprocket, Winter wanted to speak up, but the vacuum was a convenient excuse for her nerves to still her tongue. 

So they sat there for a few uncomfortable minutes. Sprocket was finishing up her work ensuring the piping was intact, and Winter collected the loose water. 

Yet soon enough it was all clear, and the convenient whine of the vacuum came to a close. Part of Winter wanted to give farewells and be done with it, but she stopped herself. If I can face down pirates, I can face her too.  Clearing her throat, Winter fell back on her mother’s teachings. “Wiggly Sprocket, I have to apologize to you.”  The mechanic twisted an ear at her, but still was still elbow deep in work, so that was the best Winter was going to get. “I want to clear the air between us. I…”  She stopped herself.  Winter was no idiot.  She had seen plenty of ponies like her in the navy, and treating her like she would someone at her home was never going to work.  So Winter decided to play her part.  “I think you really need a stallion in your life.”

Wiggly Sprocket was so taken aback by the comment she banged her head on the panel’s frame. Rubbing the lump on the back of her head, Sprocket pulled back to study the thestral who bore a jesting expression. “Where did that come from?”

Mother, forgive me for being so crass.  Winter fell into the same teasing manner she had used in the locker room.  She waggled a hoof, gesturing at all of Sprocket’s soaked clothes and face. “The fact that you’re sopping wet while neck deep in the Cloud’s pipes. Honestly, sister, at least have your lowest standard require a pulse.”

A surprised but an oh so malicious grin cleaved Wiggly’s muzzle. “Oh yeah?  At least I don’t scream like a banshee when you and Wire get going. I could move to the last cabin down and still hear you barking like a seal.”

Seeing she was making progress, Winter didn’t let up. “What can I say?  Wire knows what he’s doing. You on the other hoof had the nerve to ask your own brother to clean up your mess.”  She pointed a wing at the vacuum with a head shake. “That’s just mean.”

Wiggly Sprocket laughed with a humorous, toothy grin. “Alright, I’ll let you win this round. We good?”  She thrust a hoof out to shake. 

Barely remembering to maintain her casual demeanor, Winter eagerly shook it. “We good.”

Wiggly was about to speak when the lights cut out and turned red with a three note alarm sounding from the hallway outside. Winter reacted first, instantly falling into her training. “We’re under attack!”  Winter’s demeanor instantly changed to being firmly in command.  “Wiggs, plan A!  Take the code box to the cabins!”

The hair rose on Sprocket’s neck and yelled out as Winter stared at her with a demand for haste in her eyes. “Plan A?  The box.  Ah, yes. Okay.”  

The sailor knew civilians could lock up, so she held Wiggly’s face tightly and her eyes zeroed in on her own. “Good.  After that, get a suit on! Stay focused and we’ll be fine.”  

Hoping the message was well received, Winter sprinted off to the cockpit. 

Panic threatened to take hold of Sprocket. Now that Winter was gone, so was her anchor. No!  Wiggly laid a hoof on a wall, and gazed at the ship around her. They’re not going to hurt my baby!   So she squashed her panic as a mother protecting her child. Sprocket hastily gathered up her tools to leave. First the code box, then I better get to my tool cabinet. If we get hit, I’ll be ready to do something from there.





Out there in low orbit of the dusty moon sat Thaddeus’ corvette. The quiet snooping probe he had placed ahead of time gave him plenty of warning of when the Cloud Jumper  would arrive. And arrive it did. 

He had more than enough time to position the three short-ranged fighters he carried, so when he launched the hacking attempt, the freighter was flanked on both sides with his vessel holding the center between the Cloud Jumper and Ponipopolus station. 

He rubbed his cleanly shaven chin as he watched for the freighter's next move, and thus far, all it had done was slow down into a stationary orbit. Ultimately, his fighters were largely for show, as he wanted to take the freighter undamaged. 

“How’s it look?” he directed to the kirin seated just ahead of him. 

Blazing Dagger was a young, but eager stallion who had joined him with the hope of being on a ship with better discipline than the rest of the pirate navy. So he wanted to make a good showing, yet the growing scowl on his face lowered his chances. “I don’t understand, sir. My viruses hit a stronger defense barrier than any civvy ship I’ve seen yet.  I should get through though, it’s only a matter of time.  I did manage to partially take over their comms. Unless they take an axe to the wiring, they have to listen to you.”

“Very good.”  Thaddeus gave his EW expert more time to work as he himself pulled up the scanner. “It seems they managed to scrounge up some capital grade defense guns.”

Felin nodded in grim agreement. “I believe those are type fifty one star shards. Well suited to counter missiles and rail slugs, and would give a careless fighter a difficult fight.  But our corvette is more than enough to bring it down.”

“Their own armor seems impressive for their size,” Thaddeus mused aloud. He touched the twin engine pods on screen. “But not here and here.  Be sure to focus our efforts there should it come down to that. Have our fighters move in quick, ruin the engines, and let gravity do the rest of the work for us.”

“Understood, sir. I’ll relay the orders.”

“Excellent.  I think we’ve let them sweat long enough.” Thaddeus ran his fingers through his short cropped hair to smooth it down and readied himself to speak over the radio. <Civilian freighter, under the Treaty of Claxian IV, you are hereby ordered to surrender your vessel and accept borders. Your ship is forfeit and your crew will be escorted to the nearest Initiative station or ship. I will give you one minute to respond.>

Felin hummed aloud. “Sir, they are civilians. Perhaps we should give them time to finish soiling themselves before we open fire.”

“A fair point.”  <I’m feeling generous. You have five minutes.>





Winter flew over to the cockpit so fast she brakes herself by landing on the hatch on all fours. She then swiped the open button and leaned over Live Wire. She had already donned her space suit and was holding his as well. “How are we looking?”

The stallion was sweating profusely and would have jumped out of his seat were it not for the straps. He swallowed the lump in his throat and saw the suit she was holding. “Ahhh - four ships. Three fighters and a bigger one.”

“Get up and get suited.”  Winter was already unbuckling him, fully expecting the stallion to be frozen in fear. As expected, he had a death grip on the seat, so she gently ran a hoof down his glowing horn. The act made him cry out in pain, yet it had the desired effect of loosening him up. “Sorry later. Get up!”

Already forgetting about the act, he dumbly nodded and clambered out so she could take over. Once the seat locked into place, she ran her cord out of her neck and plugged it into the console. 

From there, she took over general control of everything, including the electronic defenses. This is normally Jerrycan’s job, but I’ll have to make due.   She quickly assessed the centauri ships outside, and saw they had yet to make an aggressive move, so she shifted her focus to the cyber battle. 

Multiple breaches, and it looks like the defense barriers I installed are slowly getting picked apart.  Partitioning part of her attention on reinforcing what had not yet been compromised, she turned her attention to the guns’ sensors. Really wish I had a jammer module, or at least some form of countermeasures. 

None of it looked good. She had prepared to go up against a long range fighter or two, but the corvette was a wrinkle she had no physical means to defeat. She focused on it in particular. The corvette mostly resembled a Hawker c-47; which shared the red angular design ubiquitous with the Ruby Navy. More important to her was the twin coil battery on the front and whether or not it possessed the anti-shipping torpedoes the class was known for. 

Even without the torpedoes, that coil gun can out range us, and the thing is definitely faster too.  Her only hope was that the armor Sprocket acquired would hold. 

“Okay, I’m suited up. What now?”  

She looked back at Live Wire who was doing his best to hold onto his wits. “I’m going to be swamped with piloting and EW. Can you handle the guns?”

“I - I have no idea how to fire those things.”

“What I wouldn’t give for a proper combat AI.”  Winter closed her eyes tightly to think. “Okay. You won’t have to.  Just mark the targets and let the guns do the work.  All you The Rubies are going to muck with our targeting. You just have to help sift through the noise.  You remember how I showed you?”

“Y-yeah.  Sure.”  

“Good. Find a place to buckle down.”  Giving him an almost automatic kiss, she turned back to the control panels. Seeing that Sprocket was suited up, Winter hit a few commands, and caused the Cloud Jumper to depressurize the whole ship. 

<Times up.> The stern voice over the radio made Winter jump. 

Winter took a long deep breath, and clicked the radio. <What are you demands?>  Inwardly, she chided herself for forgetting to ask Wire why they weren’t being shot yet. 

The masculine tone came back with the barest note of annoyance coloring an otherwise strong, unflappably calm, command voice. It was one she was familiar with as it was one custom both navies of the Alliance and Initiative shared.  <As stated, you will surrender your vessel and accept borders. Do so peacefully, and you will be returned unharmed to the nearest Initiative station or vessel.>

<Unharmed?  You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?>  Winter didn’t care what his answer was, only that it bought her time to think. I locked off control over the engines and flight controls. Now I just need an escape. 

The enemy commander’s response were a few coil shots that flew over the freighter. <You don’t have a choice either way.>

As she tried to wrack her brain for a solution, Wiggly Sprocket chimed in over the internal comms. <Winter, I don’t care what you do, but we are not surrendering to those damned slavers!>  Her voice quivered badly, but the pegacorn had enough strength in her words to mean it. 

<Same here!> Wire added with equal terror. <If they set one hoof on this ship I’ll - I’ll rupture the antimatter containment!  I will not be a slave!>

That was it then. If surrender was off the table, there was only one thing to do: run. 

Winter opened the comms with a steady calm she had acquired from her work. I don’t know if the Rubies heard that, but here goes.  <Alright. Fine, we’ll come to you.>

She started the engines slowly at first, careful to not set the enemy off just yet. 

<Civilian freighter, cut your engines immediately or we will open fire.>  His voice was stern, and carried a ready threat of violence. 

Wire, I hope you can get a few good shots off.  Winter’s target was Poniopolous and its minefield. If he actually cares that much to gather us up as slaves, I bet he won’t target the escape pods.  <As you wish,> she lied while spiking the engines straight into travel drive. 

The freighter flashed red warnings, and she squashed them all and aimed her nose down the corvette’s throat. 

Seconds later, the coilguns flashed. Both slugs slammed into the canopy, and went right over Winter’s helmet before slamming into the back, penetrating the cargo hold and crashing into the rear armor. 

The travel drive flashed a shutdown warning, but all Winter wanted was the burst of acceleration. Still trying to shake off nearly getting pulped, she hastily cycled the engines to a slower maneuver settings that wouldn’t fall apart at getting shot. 

The fighters started moving in and opened fire. Pulse lasers were already burning plates off the engines and the struts. Winter flipped on automatic targeting for the guns, and the turrets barked to life. 

Winter internally counted down the seconds before the coilgun could fire again while rolling the Cloud Jumper  to throw off the fighters’ aim.

“Fire!”  Winter Gale jammed the stick up right before the coilguns fired. The shots slammed into the port side of the canopy, completely ripping away that entire side of the cockpit. Were it not for the seat anchoring her, she would have been blown out. Shrapnel cut across her suit, causing multiple breeches that were instantly sealed by internal foam. 

She stared out of the jagged gaping hole where the brown moon loomed below. The sensors were still functional, and she barely saw a fighter lining up to strafe the cockpit. Rotating the ship back around, she barely got steel between herself and the fighter. 

The turrets still blazed away, but Winter could see it was all badly inaccurate. Sensor ghosts, general noise, and false leads were throwing the aim off so badly Live Wire might as well have not fired at all. 

Four seconds!

The Cloud Jumper reached spitting distance to the corvette, forcing it to thrust away where the freighter flew between it and the moon. Winter mentally prodded Live Wire’s attention to the corvette. The turrets dutifully turned to the much closer target. At such range, even the fouled sensors couldn’t miss. <Light him up!>

The turrets barked quickly as the two ships blazed by one another. She cheered loudly as five good hits were scored in a line from stem to stern. Yet it seemed the corvette was unfazed. It rotated quickly and fired its coilguns again, this time completely obliterating the port engine. 

The Cloud Jumper threatened to spin in place as the starboard engine kept burning. Acting quickly, Winter cut the power in half and fired the maneuvering thrusters as hard as they could go to stabilize their heading. 

<What was that?!> Sprocket all but shrieked from the jarring maneuver. 

Winter’s mouth was bone dry, but she managed to croak out, <we lost something.  Just - just hang on.>

<Damn it. Damn it!>

<Wiggs, where are you going?> 

It was all Winter heard before she cut the internal channel. She better not try to come up here.  Winter cringed once more at the hole to her left. For her sake. 

Damage warnings signaled the fighters were trying to focus down the remaining engine. Keeping the ship stable was already near impossible, but to lose that too?

<Guys, I’m running out of options here!>  Winter’s panic was rising as temperature warnings for the engine was redlining. 

Suddenly, the whole freighter jerked as the coilguns fired again. The forward turret was shot right out of its mounting. The capacitor cooked off, and burned out, inadvertently creating a short-lived thruster down to the moon. Winter struggled to compensate, only to be hit again where the armor was thickest. She tried desperately to correct their heading, but the shot had angled them further down towards the moon. 

Her efforts made her movement too predictable and the fighters pounced. The starboard engine was shot apart by a single strafing run, with pieces scattering all over. Even with thrusters on full burn, she was starting to lose against the moon’s gravity. As if to spite her further, the coils fired again.  The freighter jerked once more, further down into the moon’s gravity.  

More warnings flooded Winter’s vision, but the one that confirmed her fears read: orbit decay terminal.  Recommend abandon ship.  

<If you’re still listening, pony.>  The same calm voice carried an air of respect in it.  <You acquitted yourself most commendably.  Pass onto Terra knowing you took three of my sailors with you.>

At that, the attack viruses stilled, and the jamming ceased.  As they sank closer towards the dense atmosphere, Winter sent full power to the maneuvering thrusters to save the ship.

Yet her descent was only slowing. As her awareness spread to the cleared up sensors she frantically started trying to think of a backup plan. She searched the lands directly below Ponopilous. Multiple returns of alloys came back quickly, but one thing surprised her. A large pocket of oxygen. Big red font flashed in front of her vision, warning that reentry was inescapable.  No, no, no!   She had barely had over a minute before reentry made the escape pods worthless.  Without double checking it, she commanded the autopilot to direct both the ship and escape pods to the vicinity. 

Winter switched the internal comms back on as she hastily unbuckled the seat and unplugged herself from the controls. <Wire, Sprocket, if you haven’t already, get to the escape pods on the double!>

Their panicked replies were lost to her as Winter raced to get further inside so the unsteady rocking of the ship didn’t slow her down. She got to the closest bulkhead, only to see it had been closed during the fight, and the first coil shot had ripped it off completely. She raced to the ladder just past the ruined bulkhead, and down two floors. Although the thrusters were keeping the Cloud Jumper from tumbling, the growing pull of gravity made every step a danger. She couldn’t risk trying to fly at this point. 

She managed to crawl onto the last deck to find the siblings struggling to shove a pony-sized box into one of the empty escape pods. Live Wire pulled away upon hearing Winter emerge onto the deck while Sprocket slapped the door shut. <Winter, come on!> He braced himself against the wall, and lit his horn. He helped pull Winter fully into the passageway and towards himself. 

The two almost collided, but Winter managed to hook a hoof onto a rung before impact. She saw the sudden fright on his face upon seeing the damage on her suit. <I’m fine. We need to leave!>

Sprocket shoulder checked the box all the way inside the door and slammed it shut. <Did you at least make those bastards pay?>

Winter scrambled into her pod, and attempted to tie herself down into the lone seat within while Live Wire did the same in his own. <I got a few of them.>

It wasn’t even remotely close enough, but Sprocket was too high on adrenaline and staying alive to do more than snort her dubious approval.  

The battle damage and beginnings of reentry threatened to tear the ship apart at any moment. 

With everyone inside their pods, Winter remotely shut the hatches and tried to peer through the sensors. However, all she got back was static. Damn!

The only thing left was make sure she and Live Wire were strapped in, and pray that Wiggly Sprocket did the same in her pod. <Get ready to launch!>

<Are you sure we’ll survive in these things?> Live Wire’s voice was badly garbled, but the rising panic was loud and clear. 

<We’ll be fine.> Sprocket chimed in from her pod. The steel in her voice sounded alien coming from her. 

Having no choice but to trust Wiggly’s talents, Winter hit the button. <Hold on!>  The charges blew and all four pods were violently ejected from their doomed home.
> 7: Marooned
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A quartet of escape pods landed hard on the moon’s surface. The deafening roar of reentry blinds the survivors to everything but the noise.  Retro thrusters had taken the edge off the impact that still kicks up clouds of ruddy red dust. The inside of Wiggly Sprocket’s pod was dimly lit by red emergency lights, and she was furious. Once the pod finally came to a rest, she felt unbearably heavy. Every movement was taxing, but in that moment she didn’t care. Fueled by her rage, she unbuckled herself and marched for the exit. Thankfully, the button rested near the new floor and she kicked it. Two explosive bolts fired, opening the door so fast it nearly broke the hinges.

A mix of thin brown and rusty dust and a dense atmosphere awaited her. It was bitterly cold outside as well, and she was only kept from death by her suit.  Utter unaccustomed to such high gravity, Sprocket tripped trying to exit the pod. She fell flat on her face, and the impact was so hard it made her teeth rattle. More than pain, the mare from space was as alien to the moon as its barren surface was to life.  Everything hurt as gravity over three times what she had ever experienced threatened to press her into the frigid loose dirt underneath her.  Sprocket’s lungs struggled to take in air, her guts pulled her abdomen taut, her heart hammered in her ear as it struggled to keep her alive.  Everything was being pulled down, even her eyelids felt heavy.  A growing headache was forming as well as her brain was pressed against her skull.  Panic started to creep in as Wiggly found it nearly impossible to take anything more than a shallow breath, she mustered her strength, grunting loudly from the effort, to spread her wings to try and use them to pick herself back up. However, they felt so sluggish and heavy that she could not raise them, so instead she spread them out along the ground, pushing dust along the way. 

Her wings hummed incredibly loud in her ears, and she found the weight of the suit nearly vanish, but the same could not be said for her body.  Still, it was enough for her to pull her hooves under herself and drag her way up to stand. A roar in the sky brought her gaze up to the broken remains of the Cloud Jumper as it careened towards the ground.  Between the damage and forced reentry, the hull couldn’t take the stress any longer.  Shortly before hitting the ground, the spine of the Cloud Jumper snapped and the freighter broke apart into a dozen pieces.  She screamed in tearful agony as her beloved home was cast upon the frozen wastelands below to join the myriad of other wreckage from years prior.

She didn’t witness her brother and Winter emerge from their own pods as her tear-blurred eyes were fixed on the remains of her ship. The reactor exploded on impact, kicking up a fireball and dust storm that blasted hot wind over the pods.  It knocked everyone to the ground, and would have burnt them to ciders were it not for their protective suits.

Anguish, abject rage, and horror roiled together into a loud cry as the Sprocket’s strength gave out under the enormous weight of it all. Tears flooded her eyes as she saw pieces of her beloved home rain down into a broken rest on this forsaken moon. “Why?!” She yelled through her fogging helmet. “Why, why?!”  Craning her neck as best she could, Wiggly gazed up at the sky where the pirates were. “Why can’t you just leave us alone?!  The war’s over you rutting bastards!”

Depression claimed her, and Wiggly curled in on herself as she wailed in grief. 

Live Wire was close by, and was desperate to reach his sister, but the moon’s gravity was just as harsh on him.  He was left practically a cripple by the immense pull of the moon they were now stranded on. <Wiggly, I’m coming.>  He was no less affected by the loss of their ship, but he had to reach Sprocket. He had to protect her.  If all he could do was offer a shoulder to cry on then, he would do it.  

Winter had to kick her door back open, and she landed in the dust with some bruising and contusions.  The burns and minor shrapnel damage from the cockpit being blown apart worried her, but she was otherwise alright. Between her implants and growing up on an Equiss sized planet, the mare needed only a minute or so to acclimate to the gravity. Feels like one G. Maybe a little more.   She scanned her surroundings, and recoiled from the shattered remains of the Cloud Jumper.    Her gaze then turned to the siblings, both on the ground.  <Wire?  Wiggly?  Hold on!>  Winter used a wing to pat her flank where she had strapped on a first aid kit, and was glad to see it was still in place. Winter tapped into her suit’s HUD, and checked the siblings’ health monitors. A frightful sight greeted her. Blood is starting to pool and there’s too much stress on their bones.   It was all the signs of gravity sickness.  What made it worse for Live Wire was that his implants were putting irregular stress on his skull and neck. This is bad. This is  really bad!

“Wire!”  She galloped to his side, and slid to a stop. She wanted to cradle him, but feared picking him up could harm him further. So she got in front of him to get his attention. “Wire, are you okay?”

The stallion looked into her amber cat-slit eyes and weakly smiled.  “Yes. And no.”  The weight was too much and he gave up the fight against gravity. “Everything hurts. I don’t - I…”  He couldn’t take a full breath anymore.

“Hold on!”  Winter pulled at her kit and yanked it open. There she found two sets of injector needles with the label: Accelatotian. It’ll have to do.

“Sorry in advance.”  Winter claimed the first needle, prepared it, then moved around to Wire’s back. Given the naval origin of his suit, she knew it had an injector port. “There!”  She sunk the needle inside and injected him. She threw the needle aside and without waiting for his recovery, grabbed the second and raced over to Sprocket. 

The other mare was utterly inconsolable, and didn’t even acknowledge Winter administering the medication. 

The drug took effect quickly. Wiggly’s strength surged, and magic reinforced her bones and organs.  She took her first long deep breath since landing.  The shock broke her sobbing into a coughing fit. Sprocket blinked her tears away, even as more came. She shakily climbed to her hooves with a gaze still fixed on her beloved home now a smoldering ruin. Renewed sobbing began as her heart broke completely. A weak hoof roped her into a feeble embrace. 

“Wiggs, we’ll survive this.”  Live Wire gripped her as hard as he could, and shook her for emphasis. “You hear me?”

The weeping mare muttered something unintelligible as she buried herself into his shoulder. She dearly wished there wasn’t a suit separating them. 

Off to the side, Winter was coming down from the adrenaline rush, and sat down next to Live Wire.  The mare was unsure if she could interrupt the siblings, only to be grateful when Live Wire weakly tried to pull her into the shared embrace.  What surprised her was that Wiggly Sprocket did the same.  While the siblings wept, part of Winter wanted to lose herself into the shared grief, but the sailor in her refused such a luxury.  So she remained in the group hug, but her mind raced elsewhere so she could mentally process all that happened.  She wasn’t nearly as attached to the Cloud Jumper  as the siblings were, but time was against them.  Winter internally debated on how soon she could interrupt them to ensure their survival. 

Ultimately, it was Live Wire who calmed down enough to separate from the others. Winter Gale pulled back shortly after, looking over him fearfully.  Alone, Wiggly stood up on woefully feeble legs to give her home one last look. Anger started to overtake her depression. Vengeance had to be enacted. “This is twice now those kracking centauri destroyed our home.”

She became incandescent with rage and rounded on the others. “We need to get off this rock, and find some way to make them pay for this!”

Live Wire’s eyes drifted over to the smoldering wreck that was fizzing out due to the lack of oxygen on the moon.   His mood quickly matched his sister’s indignation step for step. “I’m with you, a hundred percent.”

They turned to Winter Gale in unison with murder in their eyes. The bat pony waved a placating hoof. “I’m all for zeroing some ‘taurs as much as the next pony, but we have to survive this moon first. The Accelatotian I gave you -”  She averted her gaze in mounting concern.  “It won’t last long.  Half a day or so at best per dose.”  The situation uprooted a deep fear in Winter.  Unbidden and vivid memories of her previous coltfriends dying on the same battlefield as her, or hearing news of it bashed away all control and dominated her mind’s eye.  Every fiber of her being wanted to see Live Wire survive to the point where she started shivering a bit from the fear of losing him.

The news robbed the siblings of their sudden fury, and stared at her in denial.  Growling at her own weakness, Wiggly lifted a hoof to inspect her boot. Her muscles burned with effort as if she was holding her breath while sprinting.  She could almost hear her joints creaking from the strain. “The Navy taught you some tricks to get out of trouble like this, right?”

“Tricks… Yeah.” Winter tried to recollect herself, but her anxiety was spiraling out of control.  Oh yeah, suffering from gravity sickness, which the navy trains out of you, and stranded on a moon when no one even knows you’re marooned, totally going to be fine.    Winter used a fang to bite her lip so she could control herself.  Stop it with that talk!  

Live Wire had let his hopes get run up by his sister, but ultimately he knew Winter Gale was the only way they would survive, and he could plainly see the pained expression she was desperately trying to mask but to no avail.  His own spirits flagged to be as low as the Cloud Jumper itself.  

As Wiggly Sprocket’s dying hopes were matched by her wilting expression, Winter managed to pull herself out of her own defeatist thoughts.  “We have a chance.  A real one!”  That got the siblings’ attention as Winter gave her suit some commands before she scanned the horizon all around her.  She stopped and pointed towards a plateau that wasn’t very far at all.  “There!  On the way down, the sensors spotted a pocket of oxygen.”

“Oxygen?!”  Live Wire shared a bewildered look with a Sprocket who was trying to psych herself back up. “Isn’t the moon uninhabitable?”

“Exactly.”  Winter also wanted to over excite herself so Live Wire would get worked up as well. “It could be anything. A…” She caught herself before saying crash. “It could be a shelter, or perhaps a secret facility made before the war.”  She passed the marker to the others, hoping the short hike wouldn’t seem too daunting to a pair of spacers. 

It wasn’t that far, not even a kilometer over a small hill that ended in a massive plateau that stretched for a hundred miles.  Even with the drug giving Sprocket strength, it did little to make her forget the pull of gravity upon her, nor could it restore the fervor she held only moments ago.  Still, she latched onto what anger she could to keep moving.  “Sounds good.  We should grab what we can carry.”  Without another word, Wiggly made her way back to her pod. 

In short order, Live Wire returned to their spot with a bag of water packets and ration bars. Winter found another medical kit with four more doses of Accelatotian, along with her pistol and multiple ammo charges. 

Of them all, Wiggly was the only one who struggled to even lift her prize. It was her cutter and scanner.  Were it not for the lightening effects of her Twilight’s Glove around her wings, she’d never lift even one of her tools. She got a puzzled look from the others. “What?  We might have to cut our way in, and with the scanner, we can see if the air is breathable, oxygen or not.”

Live Wire let an ear flop over.  “Why not cut off a door and use the tether gun to turn it into a sled?  It’s not like we can use the pods anymore.”

Wiggly hummed in thought, although her mood dipped a bit at the thought. “But Coral’s art is on the doors too.”  She looked at the four pods, painfully wrestling with the thought of destroying anything of what was left of the Cloud Jumper.  

A long tense silence went by as Wiggly dearly wished to bring all her tools.  Eventually, it was Winter who went into the nearest pod and pulled out a hammock shortly after.  “Why not use one of these.  Throw a blanket over it to keep the dust off, and we have a sled.”

A relieved smile plastered itself over Wiggly’s face.  “Great idea!”

“I’ll pull it,” Winter offered readily.  “You two save what strength you can.”





For being such a short distance, the gentle hill was murder on the two spacers. The Accelatotian kept them moving, but little more than that.  Sprocket grasped onto her vendetta like a lifeline, and it gave her the willpower to keep putting one hoof in front of the other. 

As Live Wire trudged alongside his sister, the long tedium of the walk dragged up the minutes before the battle over and over again.  The more he ran it through his mind, the more guilt piled onto him.  Though he could hide it from Winter, Wiggly Sprocket saw past the gravity weakness and nudged him while Winter was distracted moving the sled around a boulder.  She switched her radio to a private channel.  <Hey, just keep hydrated, and we’ll make it through.>

It was an opening for him, yet when he met her eyes, Live Wire gave only a hesitant nod.  <Sure, Wiggs.  Thanks.>

Sprocket wasn’t satisfied with his minimal answer, and rested a wing on him.  <Tell me you’re not blaming yourself for something.>

He didn’t bother hiding his pained look from Wiggly of all people, but he still wanted to look strong in front of Winter.  He glanced over his shoulder, unsure if she was bothering to tap into their channel.  <Why shouldn’t I?> he spat out angrily.  <I was the damned pilot when it all started.  I-> He bit his tongue for a moment, only to let it loose again at Wiggly trying to shake him with her wing.  <I was listening in on you two down in the maintenance tube.  I was hoping you and Winter would hit it off, so all the damn uncomfortable meals and moments would stop.  I should have been watching the rutting sensors!  I might have caught something early.  Maybe I could have noticed the virus attack before it got as far as it did.  But no I was sticking my nose where it didn’t belong!>

His recriminations threatened to make Wiggly start thinking of all the ways she could have done something, Like gone and retrieved the vacuum herself. No!  Wiggly violently shook her head before doing the same to her brother.  <None of that talk!> she yelled loudly enough for Winter to hear her anyway.  <We start down that road, we’ll start blaming each other before the day’s over.  You want to cast blame?  Do it to the ones who pulled the kracking triggers!>  Renewed blind anger caused her to shove Live Wire away from her, and run a ways ahead to put some distance between them.  

Live Wire was thrown off balance, and landed heavily on the dirt.  Seeing this, Winter dropped the sled, and caught up to him.  “Are you alright?” She gingerly prodded his flank and pelvis, checking for potential fractures.  

Embarrassment flooded him in equal measures with his guilt.  His whole rear right side ached, but he tried to downplay it.  “I’m fine.”  He couldn’t muster a smile for her though.

He starts to walk off, following after his sister and the waypoint beyond her.  Winter frowns, and went back to retrieve the sled before dragging it fast enough to catch up with him.  “Wire.  You want one of my navy tricks?”

His mouth was a pressed line at the question, but he wasn’t feeling as combative as Sprocket.  “Sure.”

Grunting a bit at the weight, Winter pressed on.  “When we break for sleep tonight, I’m going to help you write an after-action report.”  She expected the strange look he gave her.  “I’ve lost a lot of friends over the years, Wire.  Too many,” she added with time-worn pain.  “It’s so easy to sit there for days or weeks agonizing over what could have been if I acted differently.  That’s why they make all of us write these reports.  It helps you crystalize what happened in a fight.  If you can put what happened on ‘print’, I can help you make a better plan on how to respond next time.”  She gently nudged him, trying to elicit some kind of good cheer.  “And don’t worry, I’ll be making one for myself too.”   

The caring love from Winter finally got a brief, stress relieving laugh out of him.  Live Wire managed a truer, yet thread bare grin.  “Thanks, Winny.  I’ll take you up on that.”





Hours bled away as they marched forward, step by heavy step. They came at last upon a cave at top of the hill that went into the cliff of the plateau. Yet what unsettled Live Wire was how peculiar it was.  Instead of just being a hole leading into the cliff face, there was a massive pale white bulge jutting out from the stone under their hooves that could easily fit  half a city block. Though brown and rust-colored dust covered everything, as he got closer, the mouth of the cave did not look like the same kind of rock as everything else.  The cave looked more worn down by the wind.

By now, Wiggly had fully come down from her adrenaline and her anger was bleeding away into resignation, leaving her badly winded.  She slumped at the mouth of the cave to catch her breath.  Live Wire was little better, but his curiosity kept him moving.  Winter on the other hand had dropped the sled, and readied her pistol and started peering into the darkness within.  

“I don’t like it,” the pilot warned with unease coloring her tone.  “A structure like this right below Ponipolous?  It’s got to have been a Ruby spy facility or something.”

“Or something…”  He brushed the dust off to reveal oddly porous, smooth stone. Using his magic, he brushed off patches of dust here and there to reveal that whatever this rocky dome was, it was pale white that seemed to shimmer prismatically in the faint light of the distant star. “Bone. Does this look like bone to you?”

“Bone?!”  Both mares were put on edge.  Wiggly scrambled to stop leaning against the dome while Winter moved to Live Wire’s side to inspect his discovery. 

Winter brushed the bone with a hoof and inspected it closely. “No… not bone per say. It looks more like coral.”

“Please tell me that’s some sort of natural thing on planets,” Wiggly asked with mounting ill-at-ease.  

Winter glanced at her before stepping away from the unsettling wall. “It’s an ocean dwelling creature. Think of it as small animals that build ‘houses’ for themselves like this.”  Winter looked over the oblong dome that was a little over twice as long as it was thick, if the cliff side was any indication. “But coral doesn’t grow in shapes like this… Or out of the water for that matter.”

Driven and distracted by curiosity, Sprocket unshouldered her scanner and switched it on. Even with her wings’ glove being on full power, she could barely lift the thing to aim it at the dome. “Well whatever it is, it’s airtight. There is a thick layer that is completely solid.  It’s even giving off some strange power readings…. Nothing like a battery or reactor though.”  Wiggly lethargically shook her head.  “I can’t make horns or tails of it. This is a tech scanner, so it’s not giving me the whole picture.”

“So what can  you see?” Live Wire asked as he tried to lean over her shoulder to look at the readout, but it was utterly lost on him as well.  

“The whole bone-coral thing is hollow, for one, and I can see a building inside too.”  Suddenly, Wiggly put her scanner down and walked away a couple steps while wagging her wings in exasperation. “Nope, I am not doing this. I lost my home, lost my ship, survived getting shot at again, I’m dying from too much gravity, nope I’m done. I am not waking into some forgotten biolab that probably has some super virus that’ll melt me inside my suit.”

Sighing in shared pain, Live Wire walked over to his sister. He placed a firm hoof on her withers.  “Sprocket, I hate to say this, but we don’t have time for you to go Wigglynanas on us.”  Not a second time, anyway.  “Keep it together.”

She shot him a foul look, and a biting retort teetered on the edge of her tongue.  “Rrraaa!” She kicked some dirt away.  “Damn it all!  I hate that you’re right.”  

“Breathe and focus, Wiggs.  When we get off this rock, I’ll find you a nice centauri shaped kicking bag for you to vent on.  Deal?”

Shaking with indignation that Sprocket struggled to subdue, the pegacorn managed to bottle it up enough to function.  “Deal.”  She let off a few more angry breaths before reclaiming her scanner.

Winter Gale was unsure of what to make of that, save that she desperately needed to vent her emotions just as badly.  Yet her training kept her nerves from being frayed by her inner turmoil.  

The thought of revenge, no matter how minor, gave Sprocket strength. Wiggly gave her brother a tense nod. “Alright. Let’s do this together.”

“Together,” he replied with an approving huff. 

Sprocket looked towards Winter Gale, resolve filled her voice and spirit. “Together?”

Giving a side smirk, Winter gave a crisp nod. “Together. If we all get off this rock, I’ll write a recommendation letter to a recruiter.”

Naval service. Now there was something Wiggly had only given passing thought to. After the Sundering, she and her brother only wanted to get on with their lives. But now… Now it was personal. “I might take you up on that.”

Winter readied her pistol once more and jerked her head towards the mouth of the cave. “Follow after me, Wiggly, keep that scanner up.  If something dangerous pops up, pull my tail to stop me.  Wire, keep eyes behind us and above.  If somepony lives here, they might have left to investigate the crash site, and could potentially come in behind us.”

Sprocket hefted her scanner once more and stepped up to the cave. “Got it.”  Taking a steadying breath, Sprocket started floating off the ground just enough to hold the scanner in her forehooves. Winter took point with the pistol, leaving Live Wire to bring up the rear. 

The cave was narrow, and Wiggly was barely able to keep the edges of her wings from scraping along the walls. It wound and switched back in an unnatural manner, and was only a total of ten meters until they came to a blue, viscous, and slimy looking membrane. It covered the entrance completely from roof to floor. 

“Ohh come on.  By Celestia’s fat flank, if some movie monster is waiting for us on the other side, I better give it heartburn when it eats me.”  Wiggly tried both the scanner and looking through the membrane, but she couldn’t make out much. 

“What can you see?” Wire asked as he tried to crane his head around the last bend in the cave. The two mares made fully stepping into the last stretch impossible. 

Shaking her head, Sprocket was left dubious. “Same thing as last time.  The atmo composition is breathable and the humidity is high. Don’t know if I would trust the microbes yet.  This slime wall isn’t caustic, so it should be safe to walk through.  The building is not that far off but…”  Wiggly tilted her head trying to make sense of the readout. “There’s a lot of stuff in there that is not rock or metal.”

“Then there’s only one way to find out. Winter stepped forward to confront the entrance, and in spite of the helmet, held her breath as she tried to step through the slime membrane. 

It was like stepping through crude oil, and it resisted her every move. But as Winter got clear, the slime held itself together and released her to reform the barrier. Upon entering, the space was surprisingly lit by the coral dome above. The weak sunlight and reflections of the host gas giant gave the chamber enough to work with.  In addition, the temperature was much higher than outside, reaching tropical levels. “Guys, you really need to see this.”

After momentary hesitation, the siblings followed after her. Even with the poor sunlight, all three turned their suit lamps on. Before them was what could only be called an overrun greenhouse. 

Some sort of alien ferns and grass analogs covered the ground which looked like actual soil. A few flying insects buzzed around, and Wire pointed out a small reptile that scurried away after being seen. 

“Gals, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think this is a terraforming research center.”  Looking around, it seemed that the cave opened up at the center of what looked like an overgrown green house with a soft white and blue building dominating the center. The building in question looked unusual to be sure. Above the growths of moss and molds, it was what appeared to be a rather strangely aerodynamic design.  Green and blue grasses grew tall enough to shroud almost the first floor of the building.

From what Sprocket could see with the scanner, the length of the structure was over twice the length of the Cloud Jumper and two decks taller.  No, wait.  It's not two decks, it's one deck, and each deck is taller than our standard.   Looking to her right, there was an outcropping that looked like a stubby wing that ran from the top of the center to the ground.  “Weird,” she said in a inquisitive hum.  Checking her scanner more thoroughly, she arched an eyebrow.  Her curiosity was greatly overtaking her anxiety of her condition. “The whole facility is raised up on struts.”  Realization slowly dawned on her as her companions parroted her discovery.  It can’t be.  Tuning her scanner, Wiggly peered more closely at the section of the walls of the structure, starting from front to back.  “Holy stars of Luna… This isn’t a building, it’s a ship!”  She directed everyone’s attention to the scanner’s readout.  “There’s no doubt about it, there are ten weapon emplacements all over this thing.  It’s lean too, this thing is a predator.”

Looking at the ship with new eyes, Winter held her pistol close. “So why build a greenhouse around it?  Let alone one made of coral.”

Wiggly hummed aloud as she switched to a thermal sensor, trying to see if she could spot dangerous monsters that way.  Checking around, she only spotted a scattered number of insects and small game.  What pulled her interest was the base of the platue.  “Ahh ha.  There's a thermal vent in the cliff face.  That's where the heat's coming from.”

Live Wire closed in on the hull, wading through the grass that came up to his chin. Its thick growth made moving quite difficult. “I wonder if this stuff is edible.”

That particular comment reignited Winter's fear of a monster or worse, an unknown and hostile survivor.  The fear of poison or bioengineered pathogens also took hold.  She carefully scrutinized the whole area, looking for threats with greater paranoia than before. “Stay near the exit.”  Winter took to the air to better survey the grounds. The roof of the ship was empty of life, although she remained wary of the naval batteries potentially twitching in her direction.  They were three large batteries, easily matching the corvette’s coilguns. That she could see, seven other smaller emplacements were present as well. 

What caught her eye most of all was a massive hole that had been blasted open towards the stern. Seeing nothing else, she turned her gaze to the grass and fern blanketed land. And then she saw it. Using her bionic eyes to zoom in confirmed her fears. She transmissed what she saw to the others’ helmets. <Look at that. There’s a long stretch of foliage that’s been uniformly cut. Somepony’s still here.>

Not wanting to remain out in the open any longer, Winter swooped back down to join the others. “There’s no telling how many could be watching us.”

On top of everything else, Sprocket was not about to be frightened off by a potential threat. “How wonderful. So we get to fight a movie monster, alien thing after all.”  She changed some settings on her scanner and checked it over again. “I’m not reading any power sources. Wait, hold a bit.”  She squinted her eyes since the reading barely registered on the screen.  “Scratch that. I’m seeing one active battery.” 

“How big?” Winter asked hastily, wishing they had brought the energy carbines with them. 

Shaking her head, Sprocket put her scanner down to rest her legs. “Real small. Probably a tablet. If it’s a weapon power pack, it could only have a single shot. Maybe two.”

As the mares debated on what they saw, Live Wire was reviewing Winter’s recording. “What about that giant gash you found?  We could get in through there, and maybe get some clues on who or what we’re dealing with.”

Fearful for his life, Winter was quick to cut Live Wire off. “It’s too dangerous. Any survivors here don’t need power to swing a pipe at you.”

“What other choice do we have?” Wire countered sharply in a regrettable burst of anger. “Terra take me, I’m not going to spend my last day or so in this universe cowering in a pod because it’s safe.”  He instantly felt remorse rebuking Winter so strongly, but he pushed on all the same. “Now I don’t know about Wiggs, but I’m going in there. Death’s grip is already on my neck.  At least a monster or deranged survivor would be quick about it.”

“That’s the spirit!”  Sprocket walked up and bumped him in the shoulder. “We jumped into the abyss as soon as we fell from orbit. No point in playing safe while we’re still in free fall.”

Feeling like she was losing control, Winter needed to act before either of them got killed. “Before we do anything, maybe we should go grab the rest of our supplies first?  If we’re staying, we best be prepared.”






Far away en route back to the ruby moon, Thaddeus sighed with a grumble. He drummed his worn armrest as he thought about the attack. He had not actually lost any sailors. If anything, Winter’s attack only caused a score of hull breaches. Thaddeus ran his ship like the old days, and all of his crew had been suited up. 

If I was going down like that, I could pass easier knowing I had given my foe a bloody nose. 

“Sir,” Felin announced to break his musings. “I have the Commodore on the comm.”

Clearing his throat, Thaddeus sat up straight and corrected his hair and clothes. He gave the drake a curt nod. “Put him through.”

The uncrowned king of the pirates manifested on the primary view screen, letting all three bridge members listen in.  “There’s my admiral,” he said with a cruel grin and a welcoming spread of his arms. “My eyes tell me you’re leaving Ponipolous. I trust the mission was a success.”

“Yes, Commodore,” Thaddeus answered with no dramatic flare like the other centauri was displaying. He forwarded several files. “I’m sending you my full report and ship logs on the action. The pony salvagers are no more.”

The pirate king didn’t bother reading it, and only watched the video feed of the fight. After watching the Cloud Jumper plummet wreathed in flames, he set it on a loop beside him. “Such spunk from a couple of civilians. There is no shame in losing to foes like ponies.”

That got a ring of bewildered expressions from the bridge. Thaddeus in particular was getting a bit nervous. “The war was still honorable.” Even if we have thrown that away by debasing ourselves into pirate filth.

A brief puzzled look came from the commodore before it morphed into a scowl. “Honor and an empty sack is worth the sack, Thaddeus.”  He waved his hand as if to clear the air. “I am not speaking of your assignment. You did well. What did not was the ambush we set for the Rainbow Dash. It launched a scout patrol ahead of itself for the first time in eight months. The ambush was discovered and against my orders, my ships fled like cowards before even a shot was fired”

“I thought the forces you had could have taken the Rainbow Dash  in a straight fight either way.”  That was a bold faced lie. Thaddeus was disgusted by the discipline from the other captains and crews. It was half the reason he lost himself in his cups to begin with. 

“Perhaps if they were still the same sailors we had a decade ago. Now?” The commodore was livid, and the murder in his eyes was as naked as a star. “I had to coddle that useless captain to make him think he isn’t going to be welcomed home with a bullet. He’ll be executed for that embarrassing act alone, Nevermind his cowardice.”  He jabbed a finger at something off camera. “We’re a laughing stock to our enemies. We outnumbered the Rainbow  by every metric and we ran!  I will not tolerate this again.”

“What would you have me do?” Thaddeus inquired firmly, his earlier nervousness morphing into a bit of bravado. 

“I need that ship dead. Dead!  I would rather repeat the Sword’s Fall before seeing today happen again.” 

“I’m afraid, commodore, that without honor, all we have are pirates.”  Thaddeus inclined his head, knowing full well he was poking the bear.  “Easy money, easy blood, and pleasures of the flesh are all that motivate such refuse.”

Felin maintained an outwardly approving posture to her admiral’s rebuke, while the kirin below them was terrified as to how the commodore would react. 

To his credit, the irate centauri maintained his composure at having his words thrown back at his face. “You want to prove honor has worth?  Fine then. Return at once. The destroyer Bloodied Spirit will need a new master. She is yours if you think you can take down the Rainbow Dash.”

“A lone destroyer against a carrier?” Thaddeus retorted with astonishment. 

The commodore gave a dismissive wave of a hand. “You can keep the corvette. I’ll even throw in the drone tender Silent Witness.”

It was less than half what the commodore had pulled together to go after the Rainbow Dash to begin with.  He couldn’t help but to remember the flaming wreckage of the Cloud Jumper, only this time he would be in that vessel, doomed to burn. To die against such a foe. He truly has no honor if he doesn’t see this as a gift.  Hiding a smirk of his own, Thaddeus addressed the pirate king firmly. “I get what supplies I need, and time to turn these cowards into proper sailors again.”

The commodore didn’t answer right away. Thaddeus’ proposal was as possible as it was dangerous. It would be oh so easy for Thaddeus to make the crews loyal to him instead of the commodore. Then again, what other port can he go to?  The ponies wouldn’t accept a defection. Even if they did, his precious honor wouldn’t survive such an act. He still needs me. “Deal.”





A few hours later, Wiggly and Winter finished ferrying the supplies on top of the unknown vessel close to the hull breach. 

Once they carried Live Wire up top, the three of them investigated the damage.  The hull had been completely blown apart fairly close to the engine housing. The eight meter breach exposed the engineering section below.  Wire whistled in amazement at the carnage below. “What do you think caused this?”

Winter was an expert in many things, but this left her stumped. “Couldn’t say. Internal explosion maybe. No blood or bodies though.”

Sprocket on the other hand was nose deep in her scanner. Certain residue and other factors made her shake her head. “If I had to guess… I’d swear this was caused by a mine.”  The others turned to her in bewilderment. Wiggly pointed up to the sky above. “Yup, I’d put money on one of those doing this.”  She wanted to rub her chin, but had to content herself with rubbing her helmet. “I’d say this ship found its way inside the minefield, got hit, and came down here for one reason or another.”

Live Wire gazed down the breech, and then up to the dome. “That doesn’t explain the coral greenhouse.”

“I still want to know who they are,” Winter chimed in with her ears flat and her danger sense on high alert. Her gaze zoomed in on dusty control panels and scattered chunks of metal. Her eyes narrowed upon seeing the buttons were far too small for hooves. “This isn’t one of ours, and this is too well armed to not be from someone’s navy. The Rubies certainly didn’t make this, and I can’t see the Union ever making a ship that isn’t an eyesore.”

“You think it could be one of the smaller states?” Wire asked with wavering curiosity. 

Winter hummed unsurely. “As far as I knew, only the Rubies and us had a presence in the system before Faraway went down.  It’s possible this could be a spy vessel from the smaller states, but I’d have to ask why come all the way out here.”

“Maybe to observe the war?” Live Wire put out there. “Not that it matters now. I say we go in, and kill any monster we see.  It’d be a good final hooray.”

Fully in line with her brother, Wiggly was growing impossibly curious, desiring to delve inside. She leveled her scanner to check for a stable place to land, only to receive a surprise. A scowl marred her face as she swept the scanner back towards the bow. “Hey guys. You know that power signature I mentioned earlier?  It moved.”






A short time earlier, life stirred deep within the strange vessel. Weak lights snapped on with a harsh buzz. A lone figure was snoozing on a squashed foam cot. A rectangular pad on a night stand had a cable running from it to midway down the figure’s short-furred tail which hung limply out from under the stained sheets. 

Suddenly a blue bipedal feline hologram a few inches tall manifested above the pad. The female hologram looked at the sleeping figure and preemptively detached the charge cable which fell to the metal floor with a soft clatter. Then it started yelling while a klaxon yowled. “Danger!  The emergency destruct system is now activated. The ship will detonate in t-minus ten minutes. The option to override destruct-”  

An orange four-fingered furry hand slapped at the hologram, silencing the alarm. With a groan, a tired, scratchy, masculine voice croaked out. “I’m up, I’m up.”

With a second, longer groan, the being dragged himself up to a sitting posture. At first glance, one could mistake him for a unicorn. He possessed all the hallmarks: a straight spiraled horn, muzzle, pony ears, and twin destiny marks on his thighs depicting a breaking segment of DNA. The orange fur and blond mane is where the similarities thinned.

He shuffled off the bed to stand on two legs ending in hooves while his hands had pads on his fuzzy fingertips and palm. As he stretched his hands, claws emerged from his fingers and thumbs. He blinked cat-like eyes and wiped away the sleep. As his brain caught up, he looked down at his tail. A thin patch of blond ran from the top of the base down a few inches, and longer blond hair that naturally stood up a few inches gave the impression of a fish fin. He saw the charge cord hanging limp and flexed a muscle to have it retreat fully into his tail. 

He finished his waking ritual by vigorously rubbing his face before letting off a forced gasp. He looked down at his holographic companion and smiled. “Morning, Mote.”

The hologram bowed in respect. “Greetings: And a good morning to you too, Doctor Morales.  Your vitals are still looking strong, except for your iron and vitamin A is a little low.”

The news was a mild disappointment. “Show me please.”  The pad sent a signal to him. Rather than artificial implants, Morales’ ears and tail doubled as biological transceivers, allowing the readings and charts to appear before his vision. His muzzle formed a pressed line. “Seems supplement forty isn’t as good as I thought it was.”

“Resignation: Poor flavor and poor nutrition. A pity the thorberry extract ran out.”  Mote commanded the lights to brighten a bit, but with the doctor being the only steady source of power on the moon, she kept it low. 

“Hopefully some of the icha moss has some blooms I can use.”  After limbering up, Morales stepped over to his closet and sifted through a number of clothes. After the washing machine broke down, he was reduced to wearing hand washed articles. It was a practice he struggled with. 

In the back, he found his uniform jumpsuit. He had not worn it in some time, so he grabbed it and performed the sniff test. Seems alright. 

The one piece suit stretched easily, allowing him to don it without difficulty. Once on, he suddenly yanked the collar and allowed it to spring back. In a ripping wave, the suit tightened around his body, stopping midway up his arms and legs, while leaving his tail mostly uncovered. “Still fits,” he joked at Mote as he claimed a comb and used the hologram like a mirror to fix his too-long mane, but he wasn’t quite at the point of bothering to cut it short. 

“Commentary: If it didn’t, I’d be worried,” Mote said without real emotion behind it. 

He stepped back and sat back down to pull on some calf-high boots. “Anything new?”

“Recitation: Oh yes, the locals have released new episodes of Battlefleet Ferros, Days’ End, and Cooking with an Angry Drill Instructor.”

A delighted smile crossed his muzzle as he hopped to his hooves. “Finally!  Show me while I make breakfast.”  He pocketed Mote’s pad and made his way through the poorly lit hallways to the kitchen. 

While doing as ordered Mote continued, “Addendum: I must also report that there has been no echoes or disturbances within hyperspace.”

No rescue is coming just yet.  The news was unfortunate, but was still expected for four more years.  He let off a long, disappointed sigh, but straightened himself up to bolster his spirits.  “I suppose it is too much to hope that a local ship will crash with some intact fuel.  A pity I can’t ask them for some.”  That was one fact he loathed, but it couldn’t be helped. Only the captain had been authorized to make first contact, and she was long dead. Even if he ever got enough fuel to power the comms, the ship AI would stop him.  And so, he had little recourse but to continue his morning routine.  “Put the cooking show on first. Maybe I can pretend I’m eating their food.”

The ship’s interior was as clean as a make-shift broom would allow.  The cleaning drones had long since broke down or lost power.  Morales may not have enough chemicals for daily cleaning, but he did what he could to keep his home tidy. Arriving at the kitchen, he had long ago given up on powering the refrigeration unit. It was simply too large for him, and he had no skill in mechanical tinkering to make a smaller one. What he could do was throw together some of the grasses and ferns to make a salad with some insects or lizards to serve as protein. The supplements he fabricated served as foul dressing. It was utterly miserable fare, but it kept him going.

His tail swished with his laughter as the holo-show played out. The absurdity of the chef being forced to do push ups for every second the buttermilk pastry was overcooked left him in stitches. It was more than enough for him to pretend he was a judge for the tongue twisting salad before him. 

When his meal was done, he dropped the bowl and fork into a slime filled sink. Rolling his sleeves up, he sunk his hands into the goo and pulled out two plates and several utensils. 

It was an unsavory invention of his, one that was soundly rejected back when the crew still breathed. Yet the plates were left without so much as a crumb of food, and after a few minutes it all would be sterile enough to be used in surgery. If only it improved the flavor. 

He finished putting everything away, then grabbed some garden shears and a plastic clippings bag out of a drawer. He sighed at the state of things. Graduated out of Danacy, only to end up gardening.   Lazily shoulding the empty bag, he navigated the dark hallways to find the entry airlock. He had long since left the hatches open, but had introduced his slime ‘airlock’ here as well. He closed his eyes and stepped through sideways so his horn wouldn’t catch bits of it between it and his eyes.

Once clear he pressed Mote’s pad against the controls. The wall mounted controls lit up, allowing him to press it. With a loud hiss, the ramp unfolded and laid down onto the grass below. 

Taking a deep breath, he stepped down into his future lunch.  I wonder if the lizard population can handle me taking two for lunch.  He sniffed the air to begin the hunt. He could always hew some foliage later. He walked out into the open where he had cut away last night. 

Predatory instincts swept over him, and the hunt was on. And yet, something was wrong. His instincts raised high and he sniffed again. The foliage was dense and heavy in the air. But there was something new.  His ears and tail rippled with faint radio signals. His instincts made him instantly go alert and sniffed again, smelling the dust from outside. What was that?  The locals don’t use radio waves for comms. 

Morales crouched low, placing his paw-like hands on the ground as his eyes scanned the grass for signs of disturbance. He twisted his tail and ears this way and that, trying to pick up the unfamiliar radio signals again.  Did something change? 

Around him came insect song and the occasional rustle of small game. Nothing strange so far. The dusty smell was getting stronger. 

The radio signal came again. It was organized and clearly artifical. Encrypted too. Wait.  It was both clear and low powered.  And… above?  He jerked his head up to find three suited figures staring down at him from on top of the ship. 

For a long moment, they just stared at each other in disbelief, not entirely sure what they saw was real. As he recollected his wits, Morales noted two figures had horns much like himself. Ohhh no. The father species found me after all.  “This is awkward.”  He slowly, and carefully stood up to his full height.  “How can this friend of ponies and Harmony help you?”  I hope I said all the right things to avoid getting shot.
> 8: An Accord
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wiggly Sprocket and the others stood on the lip of the damaged vessel for a long moment. Between the stranger’s looks and him speaking in coarse Equish, they had difficulty catching up to the present. With so many species from their homeworld, all three initially assumed the being was some genetic experiment. “Who or what are you?”  Sprocket asked with her bewildered curiosity laid bare. 

The being adopted a more formal stance, his hands were quite animated as he spoke.  He squinted due to the enhanced sunlight passing through the coral above.  “Forgive my impertinence, but I would greatly appreciate speaking to you on the same floor.”

There it was again. While the being’s words and grammar were correct, his speaking cadence was dry and rough to listen to.  Were it not for his poorly veiled fear, it was as if he was a professor trying to put his class to sleep. Yet his appearance remained his most confounding feature. Full prosthetic bodies were rare, typically found only in the top three militaries.  The heavy armed vessel certainly pointed in that direction. 

Winter leaned over to speak to the siblings in a low tone, weary of using the radio next to an obvious cyborg. Such body modification must surely be illegal, I don’t care what nation he’s from. “We should take extreme care, and keep your distance.”

“He seems polite enough,” Live Wire commented with a mild refutation of Winter’s mood. “I can’t place the accent though.”  Even with his attempt at diplomacy, he was unnerved by this unusual pony-esk being. 

“If he’s the monster, he’s quite a looker.”  Wiggly found the being’s exotic look rather striking, and dare she admit it: handsome.  The idea of poking around the mechanical inner workings of such a flexible body was nearly intoxicating.  “I’m going down there.”  She spread her wings and hovered down towards the strange pony. 

Winter reached out to her in a panic.  “Wait, I should go first!”

But it was too late. Wiggly settled down heavily onto the shorn grass and waved a wing in greeting. “Heyya. I’m Wiggly Sprocket. Chief engineer and quartermaster of the-” Her face and ears fell for a moment. “The late Cloud Jumper.”

Now that she was on the ground, she could see this ‘friend of ponies’ was quite tall. But she couldn’t tell if it was simply because of his posture alone or if his legs were longer. The stallion bowed his head and upper body far more than she thought possible on such an unstable number of legs. “I have received your name, and will treasure it by giving you mine. I am Medica Atoma Morales. I am a gravitor second class and Mender of the CSV Akira.”  He waved a paw-like hand at the ship around them.  

By now, Winter was carrying Live Wire and set him down on the grass. She landed close by with her pistol holstered, but her hoof was hovering close to it. Live Wire was unsettled by the strange pony. He looks like a unicorn and a minotaur had a foal.  “Name’s Live Wire. Pilot and chef of the same ship.”

Winter was unsure of what she could share. After bearding the ship’s prefix, she had a growing concern that this person was no pony, in spite of his similar features. “Winter Gale. Second Lieutenant of the INV Rainbow Dash… Fighter pilot,” she added after a hesitant pause. 

“Ahh. If I understand correctly then, you are the only military member here. I presume you are the one in command then?”

“In situations like this?  Nominally,” Winter admitted while giving Wiggly a firm look. 

“I… hmm.”  That left Morales unsure of who to focus his attention on, since the locals had effectively surrounded him. He wasn’t facing a weapon just yet so he kept his hopes up. He decided to focus on Wiggly since she was the first. “Forgive me, as first contact was not something I was trained for. But let me be the first to greet you all on behalf of the Cathrax Combine. I represent a union of six worlds and thirty two habitats.”

His proclaimed origin left the three rather confused. The Initiative and its brethren nations from Equiss had spread far and wide, and thus far, not one alien civilization had been discovered beyond the Stone Age. So each of them logically concluded that the Combine was cut from the same cloth as themselves. “Never heard of you,” Winter Gale stated with naked suspicion.  She eyed his form carefully, seeing parallels in other natives of Equiss. A bit of griffon here, sphinx, there, and the obvious pony leanings. The only thing she couldn’t place were any signs of cyberization. “This Combine of yours. Is it a megacorp?  I’d have heard of it, if it is as large as you say it is.”

It took Morales a long moment to place the word ‘megacorp’.  When he did, his mood soured, but he made a conscious effort to hide it. “I assure you, the Combine is a legitimate government.  In spite of my form, the Cathrax as a whole are not children of Equiss. We hail from what you refer to as Luna’s right wing.”

“The right wing?!”  Winter cast her gaze upon the others, yet the two spacers only shrugged out of ignorance. “That’s far beyond our reach.”

The siblings clued in real fast, and Wiggly gasped. “Wait, you’re an alien?!  Like a real honest to Luna alien?”

“From your eyes, I certainly am,” Morales stated easily. “I have been marooned here for five of your years, although I was in hibernation for the first four. As for how I can speak your language, I’ve been listening to your holo-transmissions. I must say I am a… fan of Cooking With an Angry Drill Instructor. I know your shows will go far in the Combine. Eh - should agreements be reached, of course.”

“Hybernation?” Winter asked with curiosity starting to creep in. She waved a wing at the ship. “How many of you are here?”

“Just myself and Mote, sadly.”  Morales pulled out a small black tablet. The holographic avatar of Mote appeared a second later.

“Salutations: it is a pleasure to meet you all. I hope we can see more of your kind.”

“This is a really big ship for just one person,” Live Wire chimed in as he closely inspected the hologram. 

Of the three, only Wiggly Sprocket did not unnerve Morales. Any time he had to look at the others, Wire’s obvious artificial eye and Winter’s more subtle bionic ones made his fur stand up. “Yes. See, the rest of the crew departed for the Great Wheel some time after landing here. I had not known them for long, but it has been a difficult time alone.”  A thought occurred to him, and Morales was desperate enough to ignore decorum for it. “Say. All I have had to eat for months was grass, little morsels, and paste. I would do almost anything for something new.”

Live Wire above the others knew the pain of horrible food. He was quick to pull out a couple of ration bars. “You can have these if we can tour the ship. Assuming you can even eat it.”

A grin cleaved the alien’s muzzle, and he chuckled at finally having some processed food in hand.  His eyes glittered like stars as he savored the moments before tearing open the wrapper. After a whole year of watching pony cooking shows, this unassuming ration bar was a herald of joys to come. “We believe the truest symbol of friendship is sharing one’s food. If I can’t eat your food, then let me die here and now.”





Upon setting hoof onto the ramp, Wiggly Sprocket was completely absorbed by her fascination. The dark hallways, lit only by Mote and the ponies’ headlamps, spoke to her. Of a life of desperation and tightly grasped hope.  A narrow receiving room greeted them past the slimed airlock. It forked into twinned hallways that went up and down the entire length of the vessel. Just like the exterior, the ship was primarily a pale white with light blue being tastefully applied. Darkened screens lined the walls in between hatches that led to one room or another. Everything was compact yet taller. 

Two things stood out most to all three ponies. The first was the lack of hoofholds or conveyors. Live Wire especially wondered how the crew navigated around the ship when they were off-world. 

Secondly were the number of small gashes, cuts, and small missing chunks here and there mostly on the walls or floor. More than once Sprocket saw small speckles of old blood, something easily missable if one was overwhelmed by cleaning a larger amount. 

“My apologies about the lack of lightning,” Morales said from the front. “I’ve been out of power ever since I woke up.  I provide what I can to keep Mote active, but I can do little else.”

As Winter and her brother inquired further, Sprocket dragged her wingtips along the walls, trying to get a feel for the sleeping vessel through her suit. Poor thing. I bet you’ve seen a great deal.  Tears welled in her eyes as she imagined the halls filled with crew and the sounds of life. 

Morales guided them first to the control center. It had five positions, the captain, helmsman, comms station, gunnery, and an odd empty tube was placed behind the captain’s chair. A dense nest of cables and pipes snaked both from above and below the tube. The whole arrangement was as tight as a cockpit, making changing stations an arduous task in the middle of combat. So much so, that Wiggly had to hover over everyone’s heads to make enough room for them to see. 

All of it looked impossible for the ponies to control. The buttons were far too small, levers were made with hands in mind, and the chairs would be uncomfortable to say the least. 

It all made the prospect of taking control over the vessel a daunting prospect. “Medeca Morales,” Winter began after rubbing a hoof across the tube. “What is this for?”

“Ah, that’s for me actually.”  The alien stood a bit straighter and a proud grin took hold. “As the ship’s gravitor, I’m responsible for the transition into and usually out of hyperspace as well as using singularities in combat for defense.”

“Hyperspace?!” Live Wire asked with a stunned expression while the mares were left dumbstruck. “That’s only theoretical last I heard.”

“Oh it’s quite real.”  Morales’ pride only grew, knowing his importance would mean he would avoid a bullet for sure. “Believe you me, I was just as surprised to learn that you transit via portals and mass reduction. Our peoples have much to learn in peaceful trade.”  He turned to Wiggly Sprocket as if he was speaking to a kindred spirit. “I had hoped to meet a pegacorn as pretty as yourself in person.”

Although Morales was simply trying to compliment her to save his own skin, Sprocket took it as fully genuine, and blushed behind her helmet. “You’re easy on the eyes yourself.” 

Live Wire’s brotherly warning bells rang on full alert, but he decided to bite his tongue over it. We won’t live for much longer anyway. Let her have her fun.  Instead he chose to study the tube, which led his eyes to the dense forest of tubes and cables going up and down from it.  A theory popped in his head. “Is the whole ship treated like an extension of your horn?”

“Quite intuitive of you.”  Morales smiled and tapped the glass with a knuckle. “I’m more powerful when engaged, but the nature of Cathrax ships means even now I have to refrain from using magic or else I could accidentally slam someone into the ceiling. He stopped cold, as did Winter. In that moment he realized he could defend himself, and that he had accidentally revealed as much to the sailor. “No-not that I would ever do that with my harmonious friends,” he stumbled out quickly. An orbital bombardment surely awaited him even if he managed to kill them. 

Too enamored by his looks and the compliment, Sprocket was completely obvious to the tension building in the room. “So what do you do when you’re not in the fish tank?”

Morales laughed harder than he actually felt like. “Ah well yes. I’m actually the ship’s medeca. But I like your word for it better: doctor. A -physician to be precise.”

“A doctor?!” The siblings shared a glimmer of hope. 

Morales waved away presumed concerns. “Yes, I know it is not exactly the best thing to have the gravitor and doctor as the same person, but our options were limited.”

Live Wire took a step closer. “You’re familiar with gravity sickness, right?”

A professional mask fell over the bipedal alien, making him think it over. “Gravity sickness… We call it Gravitas. I’ve dealt with acute cases of it, but the remedies are quite simplistic. Just take the patient back into or…bit.”  He closely inspected the three ponies’ posture, movements, and faces. An alien he might be, but the biggest symptoms were universal between them. Sluggishness, shallow breathing, and lethargy was all there except for Winter Gale. “Why do I get the feeling you are just as trapped on this moon as I am?”

“We are,” Sprocket admitted while waving a wing between herself and Live Wire. All of it before Winter could try to conceal the truth. “Pirates shot our ship down, and left us to die here. We survived, but… not for much longer.  My brother and I are only able to move because of the meds.”

“You’re in that shape with medication?”  Morales’ concern mounted. “I can only imagine the pain you’re in.” He kept a professional and courteous smile as he moved on from the news. “It would take considerable effort, but I could remedy your problem.”

Wiggly latched onto his offer for dear life, yet Live Wire remained skeptical. “How?  If you could leave this moon you would have done so by now right.” 

“What do you mean, how?” Morales studied the three carefully, wondering if by some chance they were joking with him. “Your species already had dominion over gravity. Why do you think I look like you?”

Bewildered confusion came from Winter and Wire, yet it was Wiggly who narrowed her eyes and spoke as if testing the waters. “Like us. And grav- no. You can’t mean…”  She looked at the others to see if they were connecting the same dots. “Terracorn. That’s why you look like us, you’re half terracorn!”

A pleased look fell over the stallion. “Indeed. We call our xenotype terracorn as well in homage to the progenitor.”

Recollecting herself, Winter pushed her curiosity aside. Her heart demanded that Wire be saved, and that was all that mattered. “We can visit this later. You said you could help with their gravity sickness, right?”

“I can,” was all Morales said as he fished out Mote’s pad. “Those suits of yours don’t happen to have a strong power pack on them do they?”

“We brought six power packs with modular output,” Wiggly replied with desperate hope. 

“Then I’ll need one brought here to run my ‘fish tank’ for me.”  He tucked Mote’s pad in between some cables. “Would you kindly find out where a power pack would be needed to boot the system.”  After the small avatar signaled her compliance, Morales turned back towards the ponies with his arms crossed, and his tail struggling to wag nervously in the tight confines. “While she works, I feel like we need to come to an arrangement. You desire my ship, a child could see that much. What exactly do you want to do with it?”

Thoughts of the Cloud Jumper raced back into Wiggly’s mind.  She tried to hold back tears, yet they misted over in spite of her efforts.  “No point in lying to you, doctor. But what I want is a home. I want a place where I can lay my head, to hear it thrum and groan with the engines’ heartbeat.”  She gazed all around the darkened CIC and the empty hallway behind them. “The Akira lost its crew. It yearns to be filled with life again.”  She returned her gaze to Morales who was taken aback. “What would it take to make that happen with you?”

Caught in a trap he had not expected, Morales was left flustered as he rubbed the back of his head while trying to collect his thoughts. “I… I owe it to crew and country to see my mission through. We were ordered to seek Equiss out to see if you had made it to the stars. And if you had, to open relations.  If you help me with that, the ship is yours. As long as you don’t act against the Combine, neither I nor Static Carillon, the shipboard PI, will dissent.”  He dithered with his words for a moment, trying to hide an eager grin. “I’ll admit, I’ve been wanting to see the Initiative ever since hearing about it.  The idea of sampling a new civilization’s cuisine alone will make it worthwhile.”

The thought of food brought Morales’ attention back to his half eaten ration bar. He took a few moments to see if he felt any discomfort or worse from the bite he took. I’ll need to print off a poison detector at some point.  

“It’s a deal!”  Wiggly announced with more enthusiasm than her condition approved of, causing her to hiss in pain. 

Live Wire chuckled at the thought. “I’d say we could give you fair pay, but between you being a doctor and an FTL enabler, you’re too expensive for our blood.”

“I believe a rescuer discount is warranted,” Morales replied swiftly. “Just so long as I can keep trying new food.”  Clearing his throat to recollect himself, Morales passed a hand over his mane to smooth any errant strands. As he did so, Mote blinked on and waved cheerfully at the organics. 

“Announcement: I have calculated the locations and power demands for the singularity projector. Displaying them now.”

A dim hologram manifested in between everyone. Morales saw a problem immediately: the measurement. “Ah, hmm. I don’t suppose you have the means of translating figures between everything, do you?”

Wiggly Sprocket puffed her chest out as best as her weakness allowed. “With a little doing, my tools can demonstrate everything from temperature to pressure.”





While Morales was left to finish his preparations, the ponies returned to the escape pods. The perpetual wind had died down after they had entered the greenhouse, so there was only a thin layer of red dust on the interiors. 

As Winter leveraged her strength, and Wiggly used her magic’s mass reduction to carry supplies to another pod door to use as a sled, Live Wire lingered in his pod. With a solemn frown, he gingerly brushed the dust off of the mural that was hidden beneath.  He used magic to dust more of it away to see his old favorite spot: a collection of lights denoting a toy store. 

Wiggly dragged her head inside with a heavily fatigued look about her. The medication keeping them moving slowly weakened throughout the day, which compounded the late hour. “Hey, broham, we’re about ready to move.”  She paused once she saw what he was focusing on.  

He slowly pulled his gaze off the wall to focus on his weary sister. “Wiggs, do you think we’ll have a home again?” 

“Of course we will,” Wiggly answered firmly as she floated over the lip to get inside. “The Akira is kinda sterile, if you ignore the damage. But we can make it work with the right paint and furniture.”

Live Wire’s face dropped as dark clouds fell over him. “That’s not what I mean.  Apparently the ship needs a high-order AI to function, and we need Morales, or at least somepony like him too. Not to mention the ship is a frigate with a skeleton crew of at least ten, but better at twenty. The Cloud Jumper was a home. The Akira… it’ll be a place of work we’re just going to live in.”

“Who says?” Wiggly slid up to him and gave Wire a tight hug. It was a gesture he only sat limply in reply. “Morales is really sweet, and don’t you worry, he’ll be family before you know it.”

A blank look fell over Wire. He pulled Sprocket off of him to direct that look to her. “Wiggs…” he started dangerously. 

“Don’t give me that.”  Wiggly pulled back and got defensive. 

Yet whatever argument Wire was going to have came to a halt when Winter Gale flew over and hovered just outside. “The sled’s loaded, guys.”  She quickly clued in on the silent fight brewing. I know that look. Probably best that I make myself scarce.  “Wiggy, you were right. The fuel pod beacons were on the wrong channel.  Guess it was obvious the pods survived given the lack of mushroom clouds that trailed behind us on the way in.  I’ll go fetch one, eh?”  

Her eyes danced between the siblings who did not move their gazes. “Right. Well, good talk. I’ll see you when we all get back.  I left another two doses of Accelatotian on the sled. You’ve got an hour before you can take them. Be safe you two.”  Lingering a few seconds longer, Winter hoped the two would at least acknowledge her. Thankfully, Wire gave her a nod, letting the bat mare fly off with a bit of hope. 

Going right back into the argument, Wiggly whirled around before Winter’s wing flaps fell away into the distance. “Morales is an alien. So what?”

“So what?!” Wire gave her a questioning look to see if she was being intentionally dismissive. “He’s an alien. An actual intelligent alien that’s wearing our face!”

“Uh, it’s his face too. Look, if he was trying to be some kind of infiltrator, the whole two legs and arms thing wasn’t going to work too well for him.”

“I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation here of all places. The only thing I’m worried about him infiltrating is you.”  Live Wire developed a knowing smirk when Sprocket went still and turned away with red cheeks. “Uh huh. I knew it, you got a thing for him!”

Sprocket snorted at him and her tone grew smug. “And?  It’s every explorer’s duty to rut the first alien we find.”

“Oh for the love of,” Wire groaned with extreme force. “You are not a space captain on the hunt for tentacled green alien stallions to rut.”

“You’re right, I’m the engineer, not the captain,” Wiggly snootily threw her nose into the air. 

Wire instinctively tried to slap his face, only to worriedly hit his helmet a bit too loud for his liking. “Look. Morales knows a bit about us, but we know nothing of him or his people. Just be careful, alright?  I love you.”

Unable to hold onto her irritation under such a brotherly assault, Wiggly exhaled heavily. “Alright, alright… I’ll be careful. I love you too.”

Throwing on a careful smile, Live Wire wanted to tousle her mane, but had to settle for magically rocking her head back and forth, much to Wiggly’s annoyance. “Come on. If we manage to get that oversized bird back into space, we’ll need the navy code box, so help me lift it out of here.”

As weak as she was under so much gravity, Sprocket tried for a shoulder check, but only managed a feeble tap. “Sure sure.”  

They grappled with the code box, which was still connected to the mobile power supply. “I just don’t know why you got your nose so up in my business though. I didn’t give you this much fuss when you hooked up with Winter. You know the lifespan of fighter pilots can be short.”

Shaking his head, Live Wire stepped over the lip of the pod, easing the code box forward. “Wiggly Wiggs, I’m your older brother. It’s my job to protect you.”

“Older?!” Sprocket paused midway through stepping over the lip. “By like a lousy three hours!”

Wearing a teasing grin, Wire gently tugged at the code box to encourage her to keep moving. “Then maybe in three hours you’ll understand.”  Sprocket took the bait and huffed with an eye roll. His grin widened. “Besides, those three hours were enough for midnight to pass, so I am legally older than you.”  He stuck his tongue out, just to hammer it home. 

“Oh whatever,” she grumbled before setting the code box onto the sled. 
> 9: Gravity
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took two hours and an extra dose of Accelatotian to keep them moving long enough to return to the cave. Another hour as needed to move all the supplies into the Akira.  

When the last few bags of rations were finally dragged up the ramp, the receiving room and some of the linking passageways were lined with supplies. Sprocket rolled onto her back with her breath ragged and heavily labored. Live Wire’s clerical career didn’t do him any favors, and he was flat on his stomach, unable to summon the strength to move anymore.  

“I don’t think the second dose was as strong,” Wiggly muttered, as she felt herself getting pressed into the floor. 

Idly spotting the needles they had used, Wire had kept them in the off chance the syringes proved useful. He magically grabbed one of them, and checked the label. “It’s the same stuff.”  Passing interest caused him to rotate it to read the side effects. He never got there as the expiration date caught his eye. “Ohh no.”  He magically pulled the other used syringe over, which grabbed Wiggly’s attention. “No wonder. The damn things went bad six months ago.  I should have known that was why the first aid boxes were on sale.”

Willing herself to take a deep breath, Wiggly tried to flick him with the edge of her wings, but Wire was too far away. “If we die because of your blip pinching, Imma smack you all the way to Terra.”  There was no real malice in her words, as she did not yet fear death. 

“By then I’ll be too dead to notice.”

Morales strode in from the CIC for a late dinner only to hesitate upon seeing his new shipmates collapsed on the floor. Wiggly was closest and he knelt down next to her. “Engineer Sprocket, are you well?!”  He shook her gently to get a response. 

Both siblings grumbled, yet Wiggly was the stronger of the two. “I’m alive. Just a bit too smushed.  Our meds expired if you can believe it,” she laughed with grim humor. 

“Then I found you not a moment too soon. Where is the power pack you spoke of?”  The urgency in his voice gave some of that energy to the ailing mare. 

She empowered a wing so she could point at a collection of eight batteries. “The blue and green things over there.”  

Getting up, Morales grabbed one of the devices that had a plethora of wires and velco straps. “This?”

“Yeah.”  Wiggly struggled to take in enough of a breath to keep speaking. “Let me see the settings panel.”  It took about a minute for Wiggly to describe how to operate the power pack and automate it for him. “Good. Just stick it in and turn it on.”

“I will be quick then.”  Morales raced off, leaving the siblings to lay there. 

Too exhausted to hold a decent conversation, the pair went silent until they passed out. After a while, deep groaning echoed from all over the Akira, and breathing sluggishly became easier for them. The ground slackened its hold on the spacers. Everything from their legs to her wings felt lighter. Fatigue still grasped onto them tightly, but over a few minutes, the lifting of such a heavy weight caused the two ponies to awaken with a start. 

Sprocket felt like she could stand again. She lifted a leg that felt lighter by the second. “By Celestia’s golden flank, I think he did it!”

She glanced over at Live Wire who was pulling his legs in close to stand up. Wiggly rolled over to do the same. Both were wobbly on their hooves, but they finally felt the gravity was comfortable at long last. Filled with hopeful energy, the siblings laughed and cheered before hugging each other. “We’re going to be alright!”

Live Wire felt like he had been released from a vice and tried to jump. Yet between the long day and the damage gravity had inflicted, he couldn’t get all four hooves off the ground. “Ha!  Oh damn it feels good to move freely again. I’m cooking a feast tonight.”

Familiar sounding grunts of effort echoed from outside the ramp. Recognizing it as Winter, Live Wire hastily ran down the ramp, or tried to.  Upon his legs clearing the hull of the Akira, the moon’s gravity reminded him of its strength, and he tumbled down, yelling in surprise along the way. Sprocket watched from the top of the ramp, her hooves covering her mouth out of shock. 

Winter had returned, lugging a fuel canister when she saw her coltfriend careen down the ramp. “Wire!”

Struggling to pick himself back up, Wire had only hit the ground at a little over one gravity. Yet it was more than enough to badly bruise him from nose to chest. The first thing he saw was Winter pulling him up with a frightfully worried look. “Hey, would you look at that?  I keep falling head over hooves for you.”

“You are-!” Winter wasn’t sure if she should be worried about an injury or if he did that on purpose just to be corny. She grumbled trying to puzzle that out, all while staring into his cheeky grin. With a defeatist huff, Winter gave up when he left a kiss imprint on his helmet.  “An idiot.”  She hugged him tightly before letting go.  “Is anything broken?”

He tried assess himself as Winter looked him over with bubbling concern. “I should be alright. Morales weakened the gravity onboard, and I guess I got carried away,” he ended with a sheepish grin at her. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, Winter turned to retrieve the fuel canister off the ground. “Then get your tail back up there. Don’t make me confine you to the ship, buster black and blue.”  After he gave a helpless salute, she hefted the canister up onto her back. It was a heavy thing only she could hope to move, let alone carry in the moon’s gravity. It was a mostly orange cylinder with one rounded end for fuel movement with the other end being flat. A worn yet functional interface pad and screen rested on one side. “You guys never told me you were using that cheap impact gel. That stuff was absolutely revolting, I swear I could smell it through the helmet.”

Live Wire casually inspected the canister as he helped her roll it up the ramp. “It doesn’t even look dented. I’d say it was still money well spent.”

Sprocket had spent the time moving supplies out of the way so the others had a place to keep the canister. “Right. Awesome.”  She moved in on the canister’s built-in data pad.  It flickered on a cracked screen that had been worn by age more than its decent.  After tapping a few commands, a grin grew over Wiggly’s muzzle. “Perfect, you nabbed a full one.”

“It certainly felt like I did.”  Winter flexed and stretched to try and sooth her organic muscles. Even her bionic ones had been tested. 

Live Wire was beside himself with joy, and draped himself over top of Wiggly, much to the pegacorn’s annoyance. “So now we just need to see if the doc can show us to the back up reactor.  Although honestly, I’d rather see if we can get these suits off first.”  Live Wire’s horn was glowing as he scratched at itches underneath. “We can’t stay in these things forever.”

“I’m not sure we could fight off whatever bugs are here,” Winter Gale began with a thoughtful look. She had just come down from the anxiety of losing Wire to gravity, piling on an infection was too much too fast. Immunotherapy over the centuries had allowed ponies across the entire Initiative capable of handling any environment they found themselves in, but this was a bit too new for the cautious pilot. “With a whole new alien environment, we should play it safe. Please.”

Wire watched his sister shrug and move on to the CIC. “If you insist, Winny Boo.”

A furious scowl of couch banishment marred Winter’s face.  She flashed a glance at Wiggly, and the pegacorn’s bemused look revealed it had been the first time she had heard that particular private pet name.  “I will end you long before any infection could if you call me that again.”

A mischievous smirk crossed Wire’s lips and he tiptoed towards the CIC while keeping his gaze fixed on Winter’s own. 

Winter pointed a dangerous hoof at him. “Don’t.”  His grin widened. She quivered her hoof for emphasis. “I’m warning you.”  He waggled his eyebrow as his smirk widened, only to make her scowl deepen. 

“Love and kisses, Winny Boo.”  He suddenly bolted away, racing to the safety of the CIC.

“You are so dead!”  Yet Winter didn’t chase him like Wiggly might. Instead she bided her time, intent on saving her revenge for later.  





Upon reaching the CIC, Wiggly skidded to a stop close to the door. Morales was in the tube now filled with oxygenated water. His tail seemed to have unfolded a large set of passive pink gills. A few organic looking cables connected other parts of his tail to the bottom of the tube. His horn was glowing a serene emerald with the glow being funneled up into the top of the tube. He had been facing the door, hoping to receive some good news. 

Wiggly was both enthralled by the sight of it, and survival taking more of a backseat, she was enamored by the alien tech before her. “Will wonders never cease. You’re aquatic?”

When the grinning doctor spoke, it came from Mote’s pad close by resting on the captain’s chair. “Sort of necessary given how the gravimetric initiator system is made. I’m glad to see you in such high spirits so quickly.”

“All thanks to you.”  Wiggly’s eyes went down to his strange tail.  “Do you mind?”

A polite laugh bubbled from him, only for Morales to clamp his mouth shut. “Not at all.”

Wiggly crouched low to study the tail while Morales moved his legs out of the way. She had expected it to be cybernetic, but upon close inspection she could see the pulse of capillaries and how it was more like his tail had flowered open more than anything else. It opened a world of possibilities in her mind, with each of them begging to see the light of day. 

She was so absorbed by the small details that she didn’t hear her brother move into the room with Winter stalking after him. She only looked away when Morales spoke again. “Ah, and my soon to be culinary savior is alive and well too. How wondrous.”

Wiggly stood back up and waved the others closer. “Guys, you have got to see this. His tail is one big fish gill! It’s all flesh and blood too.”

Winter took polite interest, studying it at a distance, whereas Live Wire was more weary of it. “That is - different.  Anyway, thank you for slackening the gravity around here.”

Sprocket blushed furiously, and bowed to the encased alien. “I completely forgot, thank you very much!”

“We are harmonious shipmates are we not?  We all have our duties, and I will surely be returning the accolades once we are starborne again.”

“Speaking of being harmonious,” Winter began after resolving to seek vengeance later.  “We wanted to be able to remove our suits. Yet we are unsure how risky mutual contamination could be.”

“Truly?” Morales asked with carefully curtailed disappointment. “If you are concerned on my behalf, I can assure you this much. After inhabiting dozens of worlds and beyond, the cathrex immune system is as adaptable as life itself. I could step onto a wholly novel world and the worst I could receive is mild irritation. I suppose a purpose built biological weapon would work, but I doubt noble beings such as ourselves would make such things.”  So long as we’re all friends here.

“Well I’m glad to hear it.”  Wiggly tapped a few buttons at the base of her helmet, causing it to depressurize and slide off. “Because I was getting real tired of having to ignore this.”  She put the helmet down and furiously scratched her nose, cheek, mane, and everywhere in between.

Winter was reluctant to simply take Morales at his word, and favored hard data. Yet with Wiggly already disrobing, the thestral sighed in defeat. “Did you even think to have the suit check the atmospheric composition before doing that?”  Winter sighed when a look of terror fell over Wiggly. “It’s fine by the by.  The oxygen is higher, but not enough to be a problem.”  She clicked her helmet off. She shook her mane now that it was loose from its confines. “We ponies took a similar path with our immunization.”  She took a moment to focus on Morales’ tail and on up to his ponish head. “But I presume that cathrex have taken to gene editing like a fish to water.”

A coy, borderline bemused expression colored Morales’ voice. “About as much as you ponies do to singing. The archives spoke of your species’ proclivity for song. If I had not watched so much of your media, I don’t think I could tell the difference between your speech and music.  As much as I would like to speak of this further, I won’t be able to maintain the counter gravity without at least the secondary reactor whiling away, and it has been a long day already.  Take Mote’s pad with you, I’ll be able to talk and guide you to it.”





In a matter of dubious luck, the secondary reactor was right next door to the engineering section, the same section that had been blasted to pieces by a mine. As Wiggly and her brother brought Mote into the room, they saw that the wall adjacent to the damage was badly deformed.  Winter had split off to find some cabins and prepare a simplistic dinner, leaving Live Wire to carefully roll the fuel canister through the hallways.

Fortunately, the reactor itself seemed undamaged.  Buried under shielding and cables, the reactor core was structurally V shaped, and that worried Wiggly Sprocket.  With Wire levitating Mote’s pad, that gave Wiggly room to more deeply inspect the device.  A disappointed scowl fell over her.  “Let me guess.  You guys still operate with naked antimatter don’t you?”

Both Mote and Morales’ avatars hovered over the pad, with Morales giving an unknowing shrug.  “I did not know you could clothe AM.”

Live Wire found a safe enough alcove and propped the fuel canister to sit upright.  Within the same breath, Wiggly walked over and rubbed a hoof on it.  “You can with fullerene shells.  Mix it into a partially stable foam with hydrogen isotopes, and you have AM you can practically drop from orbit and not have it not go off.”  She smirked at Morales.  “Make it right, and our fuel is as stable as plastic explosives.”

Mote gasped in surprise, although neither pony could tell if it was genuine emotion or just a facsimile of it.  “Admission.  We used to have a similar method before being diminished.  Unfortunately, the fabrication practice was heavily copyrighted to Firestar Power Inc, and it was lost with the company.  As of late, we have had to rely on old technologies.”

That certainly turned the ponies’ ears.  It was one thing for a single ship to wind up in a desperate situation, but to hear of such a fundamental loss as this to an interstellar civilization was troubling.  Wire shared a look with Sprocket, letting both know the other came to the same conclusion.  “So you had a war like we did?” Live Wire asked with as much diplomatic tact as he could to keep Morales talking.  He was unsure of how to handle Mote.

Morales looked at Mote with a fuming scowl as if he could see the other avatar.  He seemed to be angry at first, then disapproving next.  “I suppose you would know eventually.  Yes, the Combine is a thin shadow of what we once were.  Personally though…” He paused to rethink his comment, unsure of how much he could really say.  “We had become a bloated weave who tried to forget itself.” 

Live Wire tried to keep his growing worries from showing on his face.  That sounds ominous.  I wonder if this ‘bloat’ led to his shipmates getting killed as much as the minefield did.

Sprocket’s heart went out to him.  Damn.  His people are reaching out to us for help, we’ve got to get off this rock!  She forced a highly enthusiastic smile and clapped her hooves together.  “Well then, let’s hope what’s left is the best bits, eh?  Now, how about we modify this reactor here to work with our fuel.  Shouldn’t take too much effort, just feed a smaller amount of fuel from both ends, and modify the reaction chamber to trigger the shell collapse.  The only tricky part is how to funnel the residue into a container. We burn it off in the drive plume when we’re on the go… Hmm.  I might need to work up a flare spigot.”  The very idea of the work was getting her excited.  To be the first to both examine alien technology and demonstrate the Initiative's engineering prowess all at once was jazzing her up so much any need for sleep was utterly forgotten.  “I’ll need the full diagrams to the ship along with the schematics.   Specifically the electrical system.   Also, I need to get to the machine shop right away!  … You do have a shop right?”

“Naturally.”  If anything, Morales was just glad Wiggly seemed like she was two pots deep into black coffee.  Until main power was restored, maintaining the counter gravity was as taxing as a light jog, and he was a year out of shape.  The power pack the ponies had provided wouldn’t last the night, and he was acutely aware that they had not brought very many.  “You can investigate the chief engineer’s office.  I imagine that he had a great many technical journals on hand as he once told me he was a recent transfer to the Akira as well.  As for the machine shop, it is only a short way back towards the bow on the starboard side.”

“Perfect!”  Wiggly clapped her hooves as a manic grin cleaved her maw.  “Bro, go with Mores and find the journals.  I’ll take a pack and see about making those modifications.”

The need to ask for such documents and Wiggly’s growing excitement only compounded Wire’s worries, a notion silently mirrored by Morales. Unlike the cathrex, he knew her enough to voice his misgivings. “Uh, Wiggs, are you sure you know what you're doing?  It’d be one thing if this was one of our reactors, but this thing?”

Giving off a series of disappointed ‘tsks’, Wiggly roped him into a side hug and shot him a toothy smirk. “Wire, pu lease, this thing they have here is baby stuff, I’m talking they demonstrated something just like this in history class.”

“I don’t remember ship components being a topic of history class, gears for brains.”

Using a wing, Wiggly pointed at various parts of not just the reactor, but the wiring and tubes around it. She rattled off identifying names and purposes for each one like a machine. After a solid minute of that, she rolled her head towards the pad. “Mote, back me up on this. How did I do?”

“The hologram acted as if she was a teacher in class, as opposed to the bewildered doctor next to her. “Statement: your knowledge of this reactor is on a professional level.”

Morales finally found his voice. “I - I don’t know if I should be scared or not.”

Letting Live Wire go, Sprocket made for the exit. Smug satisfaction burned as bright as the sun on her. “What can I say? I’m a child of Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight Sparkle?  The name was hauntingly familiar to Morales so much it started to ache. He instantly cast aside it being a name of his kin, and yet he knew he heard it from somewhere. Was it on one of the holo-shows?

Ignorant of Morales aggressively searching his memories, Live Wire huffed at her, and tried to flick Sprocket’s horn with a hoof. “You just made that up.”

Yelping from light pain, Wiggly used a fetlock to gently rub her sore horn, and to make sure the lightning cover was still in place. “I could be,” Sprocket countered with a raspberry.  “She had a lotta kids, like fifty or something.  I’m probably a great granddaughter,” she proclaimed with pride. 

“Yea, okay, sure. You let me know when you tap into that trust fund of yours. Until then, imma let you get this reactor working, while I go save Winter from the stove. I trust her behind the helm, not in front of an oven.”

As he turned to leave, Wiggly flew over to playfully block the exit. “The only place you’re going is the machine shop with me, Buster Brown.”

“Why?  I’m a chef, not a mechanic.”

Sprocket tugged on Mote’s pad with a wing and dragged it into his view. “Wiry, you see those hands?”

Furrowing his brow, Wire observed the two cathrex’s hands, drawing similarities to minotaurs and centuari.  Now that he actually paid attention they were more akin to paws. “What about them?”

Sighing because it needed to be said, Sprocket waggled a rather blunt shaped hoof at him.  “Fat chance I’m going to be able to use their tools. I need that magic of yours for the delicate work.  So unless you wanna trade horns, you have to stay with me.”





It took hours to remove the ignition chamber and move it into the machine shop. After setting up the power packs, Live Wire was able to take a break to go help Winter salvage dinner while Sprocket went about making her modifications. 

The center of the shop was dominated by a 3D printer that could carve most materials and put in changes the user required. So after setting it all up, Wiggly had nothing to do but wait and watch. The day had caught up to her, and she was nodding off and on throughout the process. 

Morales would have been content to let her rest, but he had never spent such a prolonged time in the tank, even during normal operations. The mild yet constant strain was doing him no favors. So to stay awake, he had to resort to regaling about his favorite holo-shows. 

Wiggly shared a couple of favorites with him, and the pair gabbed like true fans until a gentle alert prodded her attention.  As she inspected the latest alteration, she kept yawning.  That wasn’t helping her efforts with inputting commands. Her hooves were simply impossible to use the keyboards with, and she lacked a machine interface. With Wire ignoring her calls, Wiggly had to resort to using her wing fingers to painstakingly enter commands one letter at a time. All of it was only possible because Mote translated not only the keyboard for Wiggly, but also her commands back and forth between Equiss and the Cathrex tongue. Blinking hard to keep herself awake, the pegacorn dearly wished she had a caffeine chew. “Hey, Morales, mind letting me in on something?”

The terracorn begrudgingly paused his internal guessing debate on what could be Wiggly’s favorite episode.  He knew he’d forget the answer within seconds.   “Go ahead.”

Entering the final correction, she turned fully to the floating gravitor.  “Could you tell me how long  you guys have been watching us exactly?  Because you said you didn’t even know if we had even made it to space yet.”

His avatar floated as if he was laying on his back to think.  With his physical body though, he was taken aback by the change in topic. “Ahh.  Hmm.  Mote, how long has it been?”

The hologram bowed her head in disappointment.  “Statement.  Regrettably, I do not have access to historic data while separated from my larger self.” 

“I figured, but I had to try.”  Morales rotated slowly in midair, scratching his chin.  “If I had to ‘ballpark it’ as you say… roughly one and a half millennia.  Give or take.”  His face fell, fully expecting her next question.

And a burning one at that.  Sprocket rounded the workstation and walked up to the pad so she was face to face with him.  “Now wait a second.  If that’s true, how am I able to recognize a lot of how your stuff works?  Your stuff should be light years ahead of anything I’m familiar with.”

He averted his eyes, burning in shame.  “I wish I knew how the captain was told to answer that very question.  Even I know it is not something one would wish to admit to a potential trade partner.  The war Mote and I mentioned earlier was… cataclysmic.”  In an outstretched hand, Morales conjured a blue and white image of the galaxy; it was frayed a bit due to his own fatigue and lack of practice.  A decent chunk of the lower right quadrant was tinged orange.  The area was more or less a uniform circle, save for a small indentation with a green star.  “This is where Equiss resides.  As the only species we found to have a proper society, we left the planet and the surrounding systems to you.  The rest…” he paused with regret. “These were how far our claws stretched a thousand years ago, back when our ancestors were first developing machine powered flight.  From the outside, the Combine appeared strong, and poised to claim the whole galaxy in time.  But we were… diminished.”  The orange area suddenly shrank considerably.  Now the orange was smaller than the total stars claimed by the nations born from Equiss.  “We lost much more than territory.  Technology, culture, people, eras of history. The Akira we reside in, would have been put in a museum had it existed back then.”

“By Celestia’s star…”  Wiggly cupped her mouth at the incomprehensible amount of loss that implied. “What happened?  Did other aliens come after you?”

“We did it to ourselves.”  Morales banished the galactic map with a dismissive shake of a paw.  “We take to genetic tinkering as strongly as ponies have done with magic.  Unlike yourselves who were molded by magic from the beginning, we tinkered like a child with a new toy.”  He summoned a virtual creature in the other hand.  It was a brown creature not unlike the house cats Wiggly remembered on Trireme before the Sundering.  “This is how my species appeared before we started changing ourselves. Mote’s form is what we now consider baseline.  But we varied wildly, from hybrids such as myself to gelatinous monstrosities.  Fliers to fully aquatic, frozen worlds to lava rivers to gas giants, there was no planet our geneticists couldn’t adapt us for.  Or try to at least.  

“But it caused us to bleed like a broken blood feather.”  Morales dismissed the feline creature to move Mote’s figure between Wiggly and himself in one paw, and then to summon a revolting creature that reminded Sprocket of a monstrous centauri.  A being of six legs and four arms, it possessed slick mottled skin and an oblong face that had its lips stretched taut along with five lidless eyes.  “Tell me, Wiggly Sprocket.  Pony, whose own species deviates between horns and wings, could you ever see a day where these two beings could be called kin?”

The very idea of any being willing to become such a creature revolted Wiggly so badly her stomach churned.  “No.  Maybe as friends, but kin?”  

“Exactly.”  Morales let Mote go back to his side and he banished the unnerving creature. “Rebellions and uprisings led to much of the ruling body resigning in mass protest. It allowed the claw to slice the Combine’s neck. A law was forced through. Now we limit ourselves to this: two legs, two hands, and one head. No more, no less.” He gestured to his horn and wiggled his tail for attention.  “If a xenotype doesn’t break that simple rule, it is legal.  I’m sure you understand what followed.”

More to cope with the heavy news, Wiggly couldn’t help but to bring a modicum of humor into things. “So even your original selves were made illegal?”

A snorting humorless expression fell over him as his tail thrashed with pent up emotion.  “That was and remains a sanctioned exception. I can count on one hand how many such exceptions exist, and have fingers left over.”  He fell still for a spell, trying to hide the strain he was under. “In spite of our loss, the Combine still stands two centuries after the War for the Soul fell away.”

“That’s…”  Sprocket exhaled sharply. “A lot to take in.”  The console chimed its completion.  Eager for the distraction, Wiggly disengaged the machinery and inspected her work. “I can’t make a proper reaction chamber without some specialist help, but this should get everything but the engines back online.  Maybe even the maneuvering thrusters if we play it smart.”

Morales’s body ached and his horn burned from such prolonged exertion. His real hands were rubbing his forehead, trying to lessen the pain. His hologram however, remained sullen after unloading his kin’s sorrow. “Glad to hear it.”  He was losing the battle to hide the strain in his voice. “I fear I won’t be able to maintain the counter gravity much longer though.”

“I’ll get the others,” Wiggly announced with sudden haste. “You’ve done a lot for us. You can slacken the gravity a bit if you need. Wire and I can handle it.”

At first, Morales didn’t want to accept her offer, and remained in contemplative silence as she grabbed the pad and raced to find the others. On the bridge, Mote materialized in front of his real face with a worried grimace. “Concern. Perhaps you should take her up on the offer. Your vows as a medicia will not be tarnished if you do.”

“I am the first cathrex ponies have ever known.”  Morales grit his teeth, glad that none of them were physically on the bridge to witness his struggle. “I will not let our first showing be one of weakness.”

Mote floated over to gently cup his check, giving him a soothing expression. “And yet you laid bare much of our scars.”

“They will see that we have stumbled and bled, that can not be helped. Better to see dented and tested armor fail, rather than one fresh from the smith’s hammer.”  Through his remote connection to the pad, he could see the three beleaguered ponies had gathered to heft the reaction chamber to the generator. 

For close to an hour, Mote remained silently close to offer her support. The ponies were in the midst of fixing the chamber to the generator when Mote chimed in again. “Speculation.  Do you think the ponies are fortunate that the war stopped their expansion in our direction?”

The distracting thought was exactly what Morales needed to ignore the numbing sensation in his horn. “Perhaps. They too readily meld machine and nerve, and are easily isolated by one station’s destruction. They have no defense against what awaits them. What we had wrought.”

“Conjecture. Neither did we.”

Her words weighed heavily upon him, like a noose that had been freshly cut from the tree. He was only absently aware of the ponies doing some hasty tests on the reactor before he eventually spoke again. “Let’s hope my fathers will leave well enough alone.”

“Interrogative.  Would you?”

Rather than give a fast answer, Morales’ slowing thoughts forced him to mull over it.  His head felt numb as his magic reached critical levels. He was beginning to forget the pressure in his lungs as well. 

Suddenly, the lights around the bridge snapped and crackled before sluggishly flickering on. Morales was only barely aware of Mote cheering before she rerouted this new influx of power into the singularity projector. Bit by bit, the magic within the ship was stabilized, allowing Morales to at last get some rest.
> 10: The Midnight Sea
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took almost a full day before everyone except Winter roused from their beds. With the complications of gravity sickness and the medication exiting their systems, Wiggly and Wire were left stiff and bruised both inside and out. But they were alive, and that was enough. 

Morales awoke with a crippling headache in his bunk. His throat was parched and his thoughts full of cotton, and his fur from head to tail fiercely itched. A dull pain in his arm was new and he saw an age old tool: an IV drip drone hovering over him. The faintly blue glowing liquid was instantly recognized as mana infused saline. 

“It's kinda weird how some really old solutions work so well,” Sprocket announced herself from a chair she had been reading in. She got up and carefully pushed the quietly hovering drone out of the way. She fixed a warm grin upon her face. “Winter’s not a bad nurse, and Mote was a big help.”

A beleaguered, weak smile tugged at his lips as he resisted the urge to scratch. “You seem to be doing well yourself.”

Mote manifested nearby with a bow. “Prognosis.  Your metathermic levels have risen enough for you to be out of danger. I’m sure you will be pleased to know that the ration bar has resolved your iron and vitamin A deficiency.”  She paused and grinned after seeing Morales burst out into pained laughter. “Yes, I thought’s appreciate the news. However, I would advise you to remain outside of your ‘fish tank’ for a day or two.”

“I’ll be fine.”  Morales fixed the hologram with a brief unamused glare about his job before grabbing a recessed shelf near his bunk, and tried to pull himself up. Wiggly helped prop him up with a hoof into a sitting position. Every muscle was stiff, but he was able to move.  “So. You got up before I did. What next?”

A bigger grin cleaved her muzzle. “Next is brunch. We didn’t just bring ration bars. Winter kept a few MRE’s in her cabin, so we’re cracking those open to celebrate.  My brother cooks a mean soup by the way.”

Morales’ hunger roared to the fore, and he was already salivating. “A soup?”  He was almost giddy at the idea of a foreign meal, even one as simple as that. “Truly?”

Nodding, Sprocket took a few steps to the door. “We only need to know what kind of spices we can use. Not exactly an easy thing to test when you were out of it.”

Morales all too eagerly rose to his hooves.  He had to think about translating his terms for a bit. “Anything!  If I can’t handle it, I’ll use the lab to edit myself until I can.”

That’s a bit extreme for spices.  Sprocket opted to keep that to herself, and mentally shifted gears. “The Akira has a genetics lab?”

“Naturally,” he replied with growing anticipation of the meal to come. “I only wish I could’ve had enough power to make the salads and lizards more palatable.”  

The existence of that lab both worried her, and dare she think it, intrigued her.  “We can nose around it later. Come on, I’ll let Winter know to join us in the mess hall.”

“Most exciting.”  He paused a moment as Mote’s pad caught his eye.  “Erm.  Now that we have power again, I have a couple of things to take care of. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

The request was not unexpected, but as much as Wiggly’s curiosity wanted to pry, she had technical journals and manuals to read.  “Of course.  I’ll see you there.”

As she trotted away, Morales had to grasp his nightstand for stability due to a sudden bout of lightheadedness.  It was there that his fingers grazed Mote’s pad.  “Right.  Time to put you back together.”

After a brief wobble, he claimed the pad with Mote projecting herself into his vision. “Statement. It is good to see you are ambulatory. More or less.”

Snorting in amusement, Morales stretched his face with his hands before shaking himself to limber up. He finished by rubbing his hands along the exposed parts of his limbs to get his fur all going in the proper direction. With an almost restful absent mindedness, he watched a few loose bits of fur drift leisurely to the ground. “This weak gravity is a big help. But I think it is high time you stop being lazy and carry yourself around for a change.”  

Mote giggled excitedly as he stumbled his way to the bridge. “Agreement.  I do miss being more than a slab.”

Thanks to his pounding headache, Morales had to squint halfway through the ship due to the strong lighting. His tail dragged a bit on the metal plating as he arrived at a small closet sized room. Within, bound by clamps on the arms, legs and torso was a powered down cathrex gynoid. It had gray fur that felt both smooth yet clearly artificial, and that was the theme for the rest of the body. Her clothes were form fitting and covered only what was required to preserve her modesty. Her vibrant blond hair was done up in a high braided ponytail. One might presume her to be a well preserved corpse were it not for Morales revealing a thin, rectangular hole below her ribs by peeling back a rubber plug.  Off to the side, a small screen indicated the body had been fully charged. 

Morales ran a finger across her shoulders and exaggerated his disgust at finding dust. “You really need to bathe more.  This is just unseemly.”

Mote tapped her paw impatiently on a nonexistent floor, and her tail thrashed about. “Rebuke.  And whose fault is that?  You’ve had a monopoly on the physical hands around here.”

Acting as if he had just been slapped, he recoiled with a dramatic flare. “And put my hands on a helpless jane?  How criminal.”

Her eyes flared with indignation and she held an accusatory claw up with a deep pout on her lips. Yet she held her tongue for a moment until Morales relented with a cracking grin. “Factual statement. You are so mean.”

“Me?  Never.”  Morales reached for a small recess along the wall and pressed it. A small autoclave hissed open, and he placed the pad within. After wiping away five years worth of fingerprints and dirt from the pad, he reclaimed the pad before pressing it into the socket below the gyroid’s ribs. 

Taking a step back, the pad was accepted by the gynoid and disappeared behind furry skin that sealed up behind it. Slowly, small lights of various colors lit up from under her fur along her spine, arms, legs, and quite prominently along her tail before her face started twitching. Mote opened her eyes to reveal luminous sapphire irises as more multicolored lights appeared along some of the contours of her jawline and ears. 

Starting from above, the clamps released her one by one. When she was free, Mote gave a halting step forward and stumbled with a foot catching the door’s recess.  Morales caught her, yet surprise and her weight nearly toppled him over. “Observation. Seems my joints need time to loosen up.”

“Join the party,” he added with a wink. 

As the gynoid steadied herself by resting a hand on the wall, and stood upright she gave quiet thanks to him. She held her hands in front of herself and wiggled her fingers. “Exaltation. It feels so good to be tactile again!”  She pounced Morales into a bear hug, her strength limited to organic norms. 

“Ow,” he yelped in pain as his sore back protested, yet he managed to return the embrace. Even her limited state was too much for him. “Too tight, too tight!”

Letting him go, Mote’s gaze shifted back and forth down the hallway, checking for their guests.  As her mind finished expanding to fill the dormant nooks and crannies of her complete self, her thoughts returned to the ponies and the deal that was made. Satisfied none were around to investigate Morales’ cries for mercy, she stretched herself to be tall enough to whisper in his ear. “Cautionary. You risk a lot letting these ponies keep the ship.”

She fell back into a normal posture as he let off a regretful sigh. He scratched an arm, and let off a tense gasp. “You don’t honestly think they’d just walk away do you?  Even if they did, we can’t crew the Akira by ourselves.”  He leaned back as he thought his ear caught the sound of movement, but it turned out to be a few small hatches opening. Upon seeing cleaning drones march out to perform their function, he faced her once more. “Besides, trust is all we have right now, and I’m hoping these three follow that creed of Harmony they espouse so much.”

“Cautionary.  What is said on media can be very different from the practice of individuals.”  On a whim, Mote dragged her tongue around her mouth, and was disgusted to find dust and mold. Her body wracked with shivers over it, yet she held fast. The soup will take care of it.

Lifting a curious eyebrow at the sudden case of jitters from Mote, Morales nevertheless stayed on topic. “I’m sure my father species’ sense of morality is as varied as our own.  But right now we all need each other. So long as they believe both of us are irreplaceable, we’ll be fine.”

“Will we?”  Mote crossed her arms, and tendrils of fear bled from her.  “Observation. These ponies. The Initiative. They did not go down the path of ever producing a PI, or anything close to a GI hopefully. They haven’t even begun the discussion on synthetic rights, and here I go walking right into that. Winter Gale and Live Wire, those two might be fooled into thinking I can not be replaced, but Wiggly Sprocket? She sees machines as a weaver looks upon strands. She will see that you and the onboard intelligence is all the Akira needs to enter hyperspace. Not me.”

Growing tense, much of Morales’ mirth fell away like ash. “As your whole self, you are as much alive as any of us. You mechatrex are people, not tools.”

Mote turned around to take a few nervous steps away.  Out of her direct control, the synthetic blood pumped loudly in her ear, and she started nervously pressing both sets of claws into her arms. The stinging pain made her flinch.. “Query. Do you honestly believe they will care?  Once the wider Initiative realizes the potential of their own terracorns, we are expendable.”

Morales came up to her and carefully pulled a claw off of her arms, frowning at the blue blood leaking out of the cuts. “My xenotype.  We are renowned for being a friendly bunch. Too trusting at times, and loyal to a fault.”  He turned her around to Mote would look him in the eye. “I prefer to believe a good deal of that come from my fathers.  So long as we act with honor, I believe so will they.”

Looking down at her remaining claws, Mote gently releases her other arm.  “Maybe you’re right...”  he let her go as well, allowing Mote to lick her wounds. Much like most other xenotypes, the act released a wound knitting salve.  Satisfied she was no longer bleeding, Mote bowed her head a bit. “Thank you for not telling them about my erstwhile kin.”

Morales pulled Mote into a comforting hug as she began to cry. “I would rather you be the first synthetic face they see.”  They remained together for several moments so she could exhale the growing stress. 

It was Mote who broke away first, the lights on her face burning red and her tail wiggled against her wishes. “I’m a mess.”

Flashing a disarming smile, Morales gently pulled her by the arm to a nearby washroom.  “You’ve been separated from your greater self for five years. You’ll be fine.  Now come on. Let’s get you washed up before reintroducing you to the new crew.”

Clasping her hands over her muzzle, Mote pulled free and bolted into the washroom, but stopped at the door to face him once more. “Query. How should I do that, exactly?”

Waving her to go inside, Morales stood guard at the door as Mote retreated inside to wash up. That gave him time to think, and turned to the most obvious thing he knew of the ponies: Harmony.  “These ponies are a strange species for being more or less as evolution made them.  At their base, they are both prey and predator. Just go with what feels… Honest.”

Running water splashed from within, making normal speech difficult. “Commentary. I think we’ve already been to honest with them already.”

Throwing his hands up a bit, Morales went with the next best thing.  “Then try laughter. Be obnoxious and cheerful. You know, how you always are.”





In the mess hall, Live Wire was whistling a joyful tune as he improved the rations provided by taste tested ferns and grasses. The lack of the usual herbs and spices was a challenge he was up for. The saving grace for it all were the two ration packs of beef cubes for his soup stock. 

Wiggly Sprocket was nose deep in a data pad she found in the chief engineer’s quarters and was overjoyed that Mote was able to translate it all, and to find it held technical schematics and journals about the various systems found on the Akira.  While the engines and hyperspace transit systems held her focus at first, it was the mosaic of technologies that gave the frigate its form that locked her interest. She was so absorbed by it that she heard nothing of Winter Gale’s holo-vid about recent news and fashions. The pilot was using a screen she had pilfered from her escape pod to play it for Wiggly’s sake.  For all the good it did for the distracted mare.

“Absolutely astounding,” Wiggly announced to no one but herself. “And frustrating. Some of this stuff I’ve only seen in fiction, and other stuff is outmoded even for us!  I wouldn’t be half surprised if a piece of an ancient chemical rocket component was in here.”

While professional curiosity pulled Winter towards the odd declaration, she quickly realized Sprocket was lost in her own world. So she opted to leave the pegacorn well enough alone. 

The talking heads of the news switched topics that made her fur stand up. “The Navy spokesmare made an announcement today. Thirty six hours ago, the centuari pirates attempted to launch an ambush against our valiant defender the Rainbow Dash. Scout craft spotted the ambush of over six vessels and two dozen strikecraft. Revealing once again just how far they’ve fallen, the centuari fled before the Rainbow Dash could strike the cowards.  Seeing them on the run, our brave scouts engaged and destroyed four centauri fighters before being recalled.”

Winter didn’t care much about the propagandized spin, she had lived that life in the cockpit. They made a move on us. A big one. If they’re willing to commit that much strength, then they must be manufacturing more ships. Even an idiot should see a coward was in command. That won’t happen again.

The quiet steps Morales was known for caught her ear right before he stepped into the dining area. What she had not expected was the gynoid behind him. 

“Everyone,” he announced with a wave of his hands behind him. “I would like to introduce you to Static Carillon, or as you’ve known her lesser self: Mote.”

“Salutation. So glad to meet you in my full self.”  She curtsied formally, and eyed each of them with fraying nerves. The shocked mares weren't helping Mote’s growing anxiety.  Live Wire poking his head out from the kitchen was followed by a low whistle. “Well grease my pan. You look like a cathrex version of Gearbox.”

The comment broke Wiggly from her stupor and she gasped. “No way.  Ack! You’re right she does!”  The pigeon blue pegacorn jumped up to prop herself up on the table so she could better observe it all. “Right down to the light pattern!”  Embarrassed with herself, Wiggly sat back down, and rubbed her mane smooth.  “Sorry, it’s a character from a kids show we used to watch.”

Mote laughed haltingly at that, hoping the comparison disarmed them about her. “Assurance. Ahh. Well, I can tell you I at least never acted.”

Winter tilted her head a bit as she intensely studied the gynoid. “Lesser self?  It must have been horribly dreadful being restricted to a pad.” 

Feeling encouraged, Mote spun in place, with her tail thwapping Morales across the leg before ending the spin by grasping back of a chair. “Like you wouldn’t believe. I’m just glad to be able to move at all!”

Wiggly’s eyes ran all over Silent Carillon while also straining her ears to listen for any machine noises as Silent Carillon moved around, finding none. “Amazing!  You move so fluidly.”  A high pitched girly whine escaped her, causing Wiggly to cover her mouth. 

“Gratitude. You’re too kind.”  Still unsure how to take such an animated response, Mote mentally did a little dance before claiming a seat near Sprocket. 

Wire was pulled back to the stove when he smelled the beginning of something burning. That left Winter to take a more measured assessment of the synthetic cathrex in front of her. “So what name do you prefer?”

“Explanation. Silent Carillon is my formal name. Mote is a name I took up when I was diminished.”  She touched thumbs and fingers together to form a thin rectangle. “But since you met me as Mote, it would not be incorrect to continue calling me as such.”

Morales sat down next to Mote and playfully leaned his whole weight against her shoulder, causing the jane to ‘gack’ out of surprise, and grip the table to keep from falling to the floor. “You lot are a lucky bunch. Normally she’s very formal about names and titles.”

“Command.  Get off, get ooooff!”  She whined until Mote managed to scramble out from under him, causing him to fall to the floor. She rubbed her shoulder to massage the pain away. “You are such a squid.”

“I like her!”  Wiggly proclaimed with a firm head nod towards Winter. She spread her wings and hovered around to lend a hoof to help Morales back up, but the cathrex was already climbing to his feet.  Sprocket turned her attention towards Silent Carillon, and kept looking for signs of mechanical joints under the jane’s full body jumpsuit, but it all seemed organic. “Now I got a big question. If you guys can make somep - someone like Mote, why is the Akira such a hot mess?”

Winter raised an interested eyebrow as well.  “I must confess my curiosity falls along the same lines.”

Patting her on the back, Morales gave Silent Carillion a sly wink. “I said once before we tried to create xenotypes for all manner of planets we were too impatient to terraform. When biology failed us, we took a different approach. Carillion here is a Personified Intelligence.”

“Personified?” Winter took special interest in the word. She glanced at Wiggly, and was glad to see the engineer picked up on it too. “If that is your custom, I can assure you, the Initiative will respect it as well. But I must confess I’m interested in the matter beyond just a legal status.”

Mote didn’t release the breath she was holding until she spoke. Morales’ stunt had only been a temporary reprieve from the stress that was painted over her face and animated tail.  “Recitation. To echo the argument that allowed my xenotype to be recognized, we learned to mimic life so well and in so many ways that we became truly alive.  That effort saved us in the end.”

“Does that mean you can eat a good soup?” Live Wire announced as he entered the room with a serving bowl of steaming food and five small bowls floating around his head. “Because if so, that’s enough for me.”

He set the food down and the two cathrex took long, deep whiffs of the tantalizing meal before them. Live Wire had taken a pair of jerky rations, cut it up into small pieces and used it to stock soup before thickening it up with some taste tested grasses and ferns from outside. All of it being gathered by Winter Gale.  “We seem to have somewhat similar palettes. The garden you have seems all to be edible for us as well. Or at least it’s going to take longer before I break out in hives or go into anaphylactic shock.”  He finished it all by placing a pile of salt and pepper packets, and tiny bottles of hot sauce in between everyone. He raised a ladle and small bowl up.  He had to be careful that the low gravity didn’t make the meal fly out of his control. “First helping goes to the good doctor for saving our tails.”

Morales could barely contain himself as the hearty soup was presented to him. It was his knowledge that ponies preferred to eat only after everyone else was served that kept him in check. 

The two mares opted to save any further questions for the time being and gave him thanks for the delivered food. 

Silent Carillon was barely any better than Morales. She had to keep her hands off her spoon for fear that she couldn’t control herself if she touched it. “Oh I can eat food alright. Electricity can only do so much.”  The ponies were surprised to see Carillon was actually drooling over the smell. 

Live Wire put a bit more haste into serving the mares and then himself. Once complete, he lifted his spoon and cheered. “For survival!”

“For survival,” everyone cheered back. 

The two cathrex leapt upon their bowls with abandon while the siblings ate with equal gusto. Only Winter Gale ate in a dignified manner, taking time to actually enjoy her meal.

The soup was hardly fine dining, but to the taste starved group, it might as well be.  They were all silently eating until Wiggly Sprocket came up for air after guzzling her broth. “That-” she took another breath. “Was the best beef I’ve ever had.”

It was a sentiment that was shared around the table. Morales was fully moved to tears, and had to refrain from licking the bowl.  “If this is what you can make from rations, I must taste what you can do with a properly stocked kitchen.”

Live Wire took a deep sense of pride in his cooking, and grinned widely at the praise. “And I might find just that in Ponipolous.”

“Speaking of which,” Wiggly asked as her wings quivered with anticipation. “The code box made it through intact, all we need to do is get back up there. So how exactly are we getting this bird to do that with only maneuvering thrusters?”

Morales gave a knowing glance towards Mote. “Because we don’t need the engines to slip into hyperspace. Only Silent Carillon and myself.”





A day later, after everything was prepared, the ponies sat uncomfortably on the bridge. The chairs did not agree with their quadrupedal anatomy, but at least the controls were made accessible to Winter and Live Wire via cable connectors after Wiggly rigged up some poor-man’s adapters. Winter Gale strapped into the pilot’s seat with Wire manning the gunnery station. Wiggly claimed the captain’s chair had to use a holographic interface.  Morales was in his ‘fish tank’, and Mote claimed the comms station. She did not touch the controls, instead her tail had a series of wires connecting to ports below the chair, and her gaze was vacant. 

Live Wire cautiously tapped a few commands to boot the console in front of him. “Let’s hope that crash course was enough.”  He took the role of co-pilot, but had few illusion he would actually take control over Winter. 

Wiggly had taken to learning the ins and outs of every aspect of commanding the frigate, yet she felt nervous about how new it all was. Give me an engine room any day over this.

Mote’s voice chimed in from the PA speakers all around them. “Declaration. Finalizing setting biometric locks and passcodes. In the absence of the original crew, I will serve as officiator. Wiggly Sprocket. Do you agree to accept the role and responsibilities as captain and chief engineer?”

Still not entirely sure why this little ceremony was necessary, the ponies went along with it. Wiggly wasn’t sure if she had to nod at some hidden camera. “I do.”

“Live Wire, do you accept the position of executive officer and ship’s chef?”

The stallion was a bit giddy at having such a formal title, even if it meant little outside the ship itself. “Absolutely.”

“Second Lieutenant Winter Gale, do you accept the helm and tactical command?”

“Naturally.”

Silent Carillion wiggled a bit out of excitement. After being marooned for so long with minimal power, she was glad to be underway. “Crew registry updated.  Gravitor Morales, we are clear to begin transition.”

“Gladly.”  Morales’ horn lit a rich emerald light that bathed the upper half of the bridge in its brilliance. He held his hands up and out as far as the tube allowed with his eyes closed. The Akira groaned and shuttered from its rest.

As his magic flooded the ship and the surrounding greenhouse, Silent Carillion leveraged the Akira’s systems to mold it properly. While she could have let the onboard computer handle it, Mote was still nervous about appearing   superfluous around the two cyborgs. 

While the crew was protected within the hull, the space immediately surrounding the vessel warped and tore as gravimetric shearing increased to the point where the roof and walls of the greenhouse started breaking down. 

Winter Gale saw the ground was becoming soft and unstable. Even after reading the manual Silent Carillion provided, it was a little heartbreaking to watch the small patch of life being torn asunder. Poor things. I know they claim the plants `n adapt to the moon’s atmosphere, but what about the rest?  Having to shelf that concern away, she kicked on the maneuvering thrusters. “Keeping us stable.”

Wiggly kept an eye on the power draw and was amazed how fast the capacitors were depleting. The backup reactor could only produce so much power, and she was growing worried they’d run out before long. “Capacitors are down to forty two percent.”

No one answered straight away, leaving the mare to bite her hoof with growing anxiety. 

Then, the outside world was masked by the warped and twisting light until it, or more accurately, the Akira, vanished. In its wake, the damaged greenhouse shattered and was left open to the outside air. 





The next moment, Wiggly peered through the cameras, only to see what looked like light purple fluid. They were submerged in what quickly appeared to be a universe sized ocean.

All of the ponies could see this, and even with the briefing the cathrex provided, it was truly shocking to behold. Yet before Wiggly could think to check the readouts to ensure the massive hull breach over the engineering compartment was not leaving them compromised, the Akira began drifting and was pulled into the opposite direction. 

There. Looming over them as if they were nose to nose with its atmosphere was the pale green gas giant. Close enough now to see the hurricane force winds and storms below.  The proximity of it felt as if it was dragging Sprocket inexorably down the giant’s gullet. “W-why is it suddenly so close?!”

“Spatial contraction,” Morales explained with an even temperament. “It only looks that close because of the gravity well’s lensing effect.  Didn’t you read the primer Mote created for you?”

Struggling to calm down, Wiggly looked to her fellow ponies. Winter was more or less still cool and collected, her focus set on getting the Akira moving towards the planet. Exhaling slowly, Wiggly sat back down. “Hey!  A lot of the bags I’m having to wear comes with too much reading to do in a single day.”

“If you knew her like I do, that’s saying something,” Live Wire chimed in with a reassuring nod in her direction. 

“Suggestion. Hyperspace has a beauty of its own. Perhaps you should observe it while we’re still here.”

Sluggishly, Winter dragged them out of the foggy purple waters and into a thin layer of clear blue between the distortion of the moon’s gravity, and the monstrous gas giant. In those brief seconds, Wiggly could see the wider expanse of hyperspace. Instead of a distant white light, the star appeared as massive now as the gas giant had from the moon’s surface. Foggy spheres of purple mist amidst the ocean of thin blue marked the smaller planets’ locations while the other gas giants could be seen by the naked eye. Beyond that, dense clouds of roiling fluid seemed to burn and light up in sudden violent energies that gave the impression of storms.  One such storm fully encompassed the system along the western section of the elliptical plane. 

“Warning! We’re about to be pulled back into real space.  Expect turbulence beyond what the inertia dampeners can compensate for!”

Turning her cameras back to the front, Wiggly grasped her chair for dear life as the Akira passed through what felt like the surface of a raindrop. In a snap, the blues and purples of hyperspace vanished, and the darkness of real space and the gas giant returned. Instead of feeling close enough to reach out and touch the planet with a hoof, the Akira found itself in between the moon and the gas giant. 

Morales plastered his face against the glass to try and get a better look at the wonder laced panic still written all over Wiggly’s face. “That went well.”

Seemingly ignorant of his gentle teasing, Sprocket looked to her readouts. “Ahh… The hull made it through okay. No new breaches or anything.  We burned through all but a quarter of the last AM tank.”

Winter used the report to shake off her jitters from the transition. “Right. We’re - Ah - four hours away from Ponipolous at full thrusters. Turning there now.”

“Advisement. All systems at energy saving mode,” Silent Carillion said with tittering cheer as she struggled to remain professional for a few moments longer. “Navigation shielding is active, and that signal box of yours survived as well.”

“Oh yeah!  Clownfish, we’re back in business!” Live Wire reached over to offer a high one to Wiggly, and she hauntingly returned the gesture, and she struggled to recollect herself.  The gas giant was no longer brushing her face, but a safe distance out. Turning to see, the star was back where it belonged. The moon no longer held them in its grasp.  

Shaking it off as best she could, Wiggly focused on the work that laid ahead of her. “Right then. Let’s go to the store and pick up a new engine room. You think they left one on the shelf?”
> 11: The Order of Business
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

If Trireme’s broken hulk cast a shadow over its survivors, the massive ruin of Ponipolous cast a pall over the whole system. 

The Akira slowly maneuvered around the bleak metal graveyard. In the stillness of the bridge, the three ponies could almost hear the long gone cries of the dead and dying. The two cathrex however, could actually hear it. A scant few radios, sputtering out weak signals from dying batteries, cried out in distress. 

Massive pylons and berths that once housed hundreds of cargo vessels now sat ruined and cold. The frozen hulks of broken fuel and water tanks were haloed by ice clouds. Scores of factories took advantage of the emptiness of space for their operations.  All of them were now lifeless, sitting naked to solar radiation.  Sprocket’s lip quivered at the profound loss of the arcology, and tried to imagine what it all looked like before the war.  The life, industry, and hope, all of it had been burned away by a war she still didn’t know why it began.

The worst damage had been reserved for the garrison and the various weapon emplacements. All of it had been atomized, which in turn had led to the further break up of the station. Only the dense cloud of tractor mines had kept the mass of twisted metal from falling down towards the moon below. 

While the ponies remained focused on tracking and avoiding the debris and occasional body, the two cathrex nervously eyed the mines that had marooned them years ago. One such mine drifted by them, the steady IFF pings it sent their way caused their fur to stand on end. While it did nothing to calm their nerves, the mines ignored them every step of the way. 

After hours of slow thrusting into the heart of the ruins, the Akira came to an unceremonious stop. Wiggly brought up a mental checklist while the others prepared the ship for their absence.  Alongside that checklist, Wiggly recalled the map of Piniopious they had pulled from the net.  “Alright. First order of business is to seek out which AM storage tanks survived the battle.”

Mote was halfway out of her chair, but her tail was still connected to the interface near the base of her seat. “Would it be safe to send out drones?”

Thinking it over, Wiggly grew cautious. “I know the mines will not target individuals in suits as per war crime laws. But drones are fair game, and our code box is limited.  The mines would likely tractor them into debris or otherwise destroy them.  We’ll have to do the scouting in person.”

At that, Mote severed her direct connection with the Akira, and left to prepare while Morales was still in the middle of draining his tank. “Do you think we have the spare power to also search for food stores at the same time?”

Wiggly’s stomach growled, fiercely enough to draw the attention of the others. Trying to hide her face with her mane, Sprocket nodded sheepishly. “Probably not a bad call.  I doubt there’s any lack of food. From what I heard, the shortages didn’t start until a few months after Ponipolous was destroyed.”

With the more immediate needs sorted, Winter Gale floated over Wiggly as the pegacorn was deep in thought as she tried to plan further ahead. “What about weapons?  A number of parts were stripped out, and I can’t tell if we can replicate them.”

Live Wire waited patiently for the two cathrex to exit the bridge, only for all of them to come to a stop at the grim question. Flashes of the Cloud Jumper’s destruction dominated his thoughts.  “I’m sure something can be done. Once we get some fuel and food, I can hunt down the resource stockpiles.”

Even more incensed by those very memories, Wiggly’s wings pressed tightly against her barrel.  “We have a lot a work to do, but let’s not lose focus.”  She twisted around to meet everyone’s gaze. “We fix the ship first. Then we leave and go straight to the C’Zar system. We slap our heads together and find some way to put Mote and Morales in front of Flurry Heart.  She’s the closest High Queen right?” she asked, turning to Winter Gale.

At the alicorn's name, the thestral shuffled uncomfortably. “She - is.  Yes.”

Clapping her hooves, Wiggly moved on, choosing to ignore the odd reaction.  “Once you two talk it out with her, we’ll see if she’ll give us a mass nullifier to bring back here. After that, the fleet can deal with the pirate filth.  Once it is all said and done, the galaxy is our oyster. Any objections?”

“I do,” Live Wire chimed in with a glint of anger coloring his face and tone.  “The Akira is an overgunned monster isn’t it?  I say we personally get some vengeance for the Cloud Jumper.” 

Terror struck the two cathrex, yet Winter felt the worst of it.  The moon and gravity crushing him was bad enough, but for Wire to actively seek battle was the last thing she wanted.  “Absolutely not!”  SHe stood firm against his accusatory glare, and continued before he could get a word in.  “Even if we get the Akira shipshape, we’re a skeleton crew at best, and both you and Wiggly are not sailors.” 

“Flurry Heart would give us a crew and more than enough supplies,” Live Wire countered just as firmly.  “You could train us to fight.”

Winter tried to take a warmer tone, but she remained firm as iron.  “I’ve been teaching you to defend yourself, not wage war.”

Wiggly coughed loudly.  “Look, bro, I get it.  I want some revenge too, but we’re sitting in the only ship in the Initiative that can go FTL by itself.  Even if Mote and Morales were onboard with fights they have nothing to do with, we can get our revenge by sicking the home fleets after them.”  Wiggly climbed over the chairs to stick her muzzle into Wire’s ear.  “Besides, there’s no telling what we’ll find.  We might get to take out some Rubies anyway.”

Gritting his teeth in sudden regret, Wire glanced at the cathrex before nodding sluggishly.  “Yeah, sure.  Got it.”

With the matter settled without their interference, Mote let a chill run through her before she quietly dragged Morales away from the bridge before anyone could ask them anything more about fighting with the Akira.





Thaddeus’ flotilla was well on its way back to base, and far outside any pony patrols. While the former fleet admiral kept a tight ship as his old dignity resurfaced, he allowed some levity all the same. 

Not that he could join in. Thaddeus was a strong believer in the isolating nature of command, leading him to linger in the CIC alone. With no alerts requiring his attention, Thaddeus was rereading the memoirs he wrote on and off again between his drinking binges. And that had produced literature that churned his sober stomach. 

A virtual thumb hovered over the delete button, as shame over such vulgar and irresponsible scrawl would be an embarrassment in his attempts to fully pull himself free of the muck. Yet part of him wanted to keep it all as a reminder of his lowest point. 

A decision would have to wait. Ringing in his ear was a call coming from the moon base. Thaddeus banished the loathsome memoirs, and straightened up a bit before answering. Yet instead of the expected face of the Commodore, it was a vaguely familiar griffon tom.  The bird looked smug, superiority veiled behind a halfhearted attempt to like he respected the disgraced centauri. 

“Ahh, Admiral Thaddeus it has been far too long now hasn’t it?”  The red feathered griffon fell quiet, watching the centauri closely. 

He wants to see if I remember him doesn’t he?  A name never came to him, so Thaddeus played it off. “Indeed, or else I’d remember you.”

A disappointed laugh left the caller. “Oh I’m sure you would have, had you been sober.”  The caller looked the admiral over with a studious eye. “By the looks of you, sobriety is a new companion. My name is Gladius of the Code. I am the good Commodore's information warlord.  I served aboard your flagship before the fall.”

Thaddeus’ eyes widened in recognition, and he leaned forward with renewed interest. “I knew you looked familiar. Glad to have a name to your face again.”

The hacker didn’t develop any warmth to his lagging expression. He steepled his claws while his two camera-like eyes refocused on Thaddeus.  “Save your cheer, because I bear potentially grim tidings. The Commodore is in one of his do-not-disturb moods, and your standing is on the mend if word is to be believed. So you will be the first to actually see this.”  Gladius went about typing some commands off camera. A new screen appeared depicting a close up of a vessel silhouetted by the gas giant Thaddeus had left behind. “Does this ship look familiar, or at least similar to any navy you know of?”

Using hand motions to pull the screen up close to his eye and zooming in, Thaddeus was left perplexed. He immediately presumed the triple-decked yet compact vessel was a frigate. Shortly after, what seemed to be green coloring broke away as the vessel turned via thrusters. The primarily white coloration with plentiful sky blue highlights spoke to him of a vessel that toed the line between civilian and military life. However, what put all manner of civilian purpose to rest were the abundant armaments. 

“By the ancestors,” Thaddeus cursed under his breath. Four destroyer grade turrets and six smaller ones. “That thing is comically over-gunned for its size.”  He fixed the griffon with a displeased glare. “Are you taking me for a lark?  You imposed some fantasy ship and act as if it’s real.”

Rather than confess or look insulted, the griffon only became more grim. “There are people I will mock and tease, and if this were last month you’d be one of them. But not today.”  He pointed at the video feed. “This is real.”

Still in disbelief, Thaddeus only gave the odd vessel a dismissive look. “How did you come by this footage?”

Taking a deep calming breath, the griffon let the video keep playing as the frigate sluggishly moved away, but the camera remained focused on it.  The griffon nervously scratched at his feathers, and accidentally plucked one. “I suppose I can tell you. Not long after the freighter you took down landed at the Inny shipyard, the ponies launched a whole swarm of probes to all of the existing ruins. I’d wager it was to keep tabs on that crew or to see if we had broken the minefields as well.  Unfortunately for them, a mole of mine was able to create a back door for me. I see everything the probes send to the Innies.  I tried to make sure to block this ship’s existence, but these probes weren’t really a priority for me, and a notification might have slipped by.”

The straightforward candor and amount of effort the hacker put in was starting to worry Thaddeus, and he took renewed interest in the mysterious frigate.  “Between the support spaces, ammunition feeds, and-”  Thaddeus hesitated going into too much detail with a griffon he had little faith that he could understand him.  “It has the staying power of a heavy fighter.  You seriously believe this vessel to be real?”

“I believe it is a threat.”  Gladius brought up a transmission coming from the ship. “It’s broadcasting something using Initiative frequencies and encryption.  My money’s on it being an IFF code for the minefields.”

That locked Thaddeus’ attention in a vice. “An Inny naval code?!”  He zoomed in on the vessel once more. The aerodynamic shape was passed off as an aesthetic design choice as he didn’t expect the frigate to actually enter an atmosphere. Why is it not using its main engines?  Then he saw it. A gaping hole was visible on its dorsal side.  If he was going to put a reactor room anywhere, it’d be there.  So it’s only on backup power.  That calmed him a bit after studying the damage. “Ah. So even if this vessel is more than some lost rich man’s yacht, it is quite fragile.”  He pointed at the hole. “See this?  I’d wager that was done by a mine. Maybe two or three. Whoever that is, they are not very resilient. My question though, is why would a mine strike them in the first place if they have an IFF code…  What about us?  Were there any of our ships in the area besides my own?”   I’d like to believe I would have spotted it if that ship was there at the time.

“‘Afraid the Commodore was using your own crew to keep an eye on you, admiral, not extra ships,” the hacker replied with a half-hearted jab.  “If we did have other ships there, it’d be news to us.”

Eventually, Thaddeus checked the vessel’s heading and realized it was going straight for Ponipolous. “A curiosity to be sure. Unfortunately, I can’t intercept it before it reaches the minefield, so I will still be heading for home. If you can, keep me apprised of its activities.”

“Right.”  Gladius seemed displeased, yet did not give voice to it. “My question is where did it come from.  If I find that out, I’ll let you know.”

Nodding firmly, Thaddeus continued his study of the strange ship. “And I will focus on discerning their purpose.”  And how to fight it.

Gladius ended the call, but the data feed from the compromised probe remained. As minutes turned to hours, Thaddeus became enraptured by this new puzzle before him. So…are you a threat, or are you a toy?