There is no love in space. There is no tolerance among those who wish harm. Space is a scary place and hope is remote. War, however... war has consumed the heavens.
Phineas Startrot was a pony who had his fare of hardship, but pressed on in spite of the troubles of his life. With pride and determination, he dreamed of exploring the far-flung corners of the universe.
In the dark of the night under Luna's mostly full moon, he laid on his back with his forelegs crossed beneath the back of his head, his long and unkempt mane spread out over them and into moist grass that had been made by a late night shower. He was a fairly lithe stallion that had silvery fur, a stark black mane and tail. His appearance and love of astronomy got him the nickname 'Waning Moon'. He stared up at the starry night on top of a small hill, a mound which stood up roughly in the middle of a meadow. Flowers grew all around its base and extended outwards for several yards, swaying to and fro in a gentle breeze. The air was crisp and cool, wet with the rain that had passed and despite the stars being out in full view, to Phineas; the night was young. His white and black telescope, mounted on its tripod pointed its lens completely vertical, unused and untrained on anything. That was Phineas' way; to spend little time actually observing the heavens and a vast majority of it simply admiring it from the humble Earth.
And so, it was upon that hill of his that the pony spent hours simply taking in the beauty of the night with his mind grasping at the wonderful machinations that he concocted. In the distance, partly hidden by the trees of the Everfree Forest was the bustling hub of Ponyville. What was once a humble town in the past had ballooned into a city of its own right. The glow from its tall buildings of illustrious blues and stunning whites was visible for miles. The constant nightlife was the bane of Phineas' interest, prompting him to find a new place to reconnect with the heavens above.
"Some day soon, I'm going up there. Some day soon, I'll see the true depths of Luna's night."
That was Phineas' first step towards becoming the pony he would be known as. The first step in his transformation into something amazing. Phineas Startrot, space explorer; commander of his own starship.
***
"Come on, work those legs! Put some heart into it! Keep going cadets, keep going!" the drill Sargent barked to the assembly of fifty recruits to the Equestrian Space Exploration Initiative, commonly known as the Federation.
In the massive gymnasium that was only a small part of the full training facility and living space, the recruits did grueling exercises. This was not your average fitness club, but a military grade regiment that only evaded the label of boot camp because it lacked the muddy pit with the barbed wire to crawl under.
"Keep it up cadets, you're doing me, your families and Celestia herself proud!"
That was another thing separating this from boot camp. The drill Sargent wasn't out to break down their flock of fledgling space travelers.
Phineas was in this program for a few months and already he was many times the pony he was when he first entered. His lithe body was respectably muscled now. He currently ran laps around the stadium of a gym with a speed and stamina he never dreamed of. The reddened track his hooves beat on was being trampled by ten others but he was far ahead of the pack, and he was loving it. The program brought out a competitive side of the silver stallion, one that reeled if he were anything but the best of the best.
Something that came about during his orientation.
"Cadets, you are many now. But over the course of this endeavor it is a sad fact that many of you will not make it to the end. Be the challenges to difficult to surmount or the true strain of what you are attempting to do will break you down, it is very likely that out of the two-hundred ponies that stand before me today, only a fraction of you will persist, and only a fraction of that will reach the true end: what lies beyond the stars," said Commander Astartex, a lavender unicorn in a black and blue uniform. Her horn poked through her brimless hat, just beneath the insignia of the Federation: Celestia's sun and Luna's moon enclosed in a red ring. It was a symbol of great significance to pony kind and their fellow sentient creatures alike.
Out of two-hundred, only fifty remained. Out of that fifty, Phineas intended to be number one, the guaranteed spot not only for acceptance into the Starfleet Federation, but for position of Elite Star Commander. First class. Just thinking about it made him run just a little faster with anticipation, his blood heating up underneath the light white uniform he wore. White and black, like his old telescope. Form fitting, light; despite it being a full body ensemble it did not impair the silver earth pony's athletic performance. His mane and tail flowed out behind him like the exhaust of a rocket, fittingly enough.
Phineas passed the checkered marker that spanned across the track with the Sargent yelling "Aaaaaand that's the end of the final lap! Walk it off Startrot!"
Walk it off meant jogging for Phineas as he was too wired to slow down that much. He tried his best to keep a smirk from crawling onto his face, went out of his way to keep from his fellow trainees; lest he explode into boasting and gloating and becoming drunk off of his soaring pride. He was the best. He was sure of it. He had the best records on the gym and inside the university. He spent hours a night studying ship maneuvers and upkeep, how to keep weapons at maximum capacity and of course, what would a starship captain be without in depth knowledge on how to calibrate various subsystems. Written exams were a piece of cake. No, not even that. A piece of a cupcake for this amazing example of self application...
***
"Engineer!? Chief engineer!?" cried Phineas when he was finally given his designation; the rank he had earned through his hard work. After all he had done to be the best, he was to be the supervisor of those meant to tend to a ship's engines and other internal workings!?
"Is there a problem?" A female zebra asked. She wore a shimmering green and black robe and was sitting at a curved table in the middle of a group of six others. One was a donkey, one was a buffalo and another was a gryphon, they also wore dazzling robes.
"Yes there is a problem!" Phineas replied passionately. He looked around the council sanctum, at the gold and silver plaques on the walls, ribbons and paintings depicting achievements of the last few years. Incredible feats of engineering and integrity. "How can a pony like me stand in a room like this and possibly be nothing but an engineer! I am the very definition of what it takes to be an Elite Star Commander, first class!"
"You are an impressive specimen indeed," the buffalo said with a deep baritone of a voice, "but hardly the definition of such a prestigious position. Your behavior right now is proof of that."
"Councilman Urax is correct. While your performance during the course of your training and study has been remarkable, you lack the discipline - among other traits - that truly define a Starfleet captain," the gryphon chimed in, forcefully pressing a talon against the surface of the desk to punctuate his words.
"Discipline? As something I lack!?" Phineas retorted, his blue eyes wide with shock and disbelief. "I have displayed ample amounts of self discipline and control-"
"We are not speaking of your records, child," the zebra mare interjected with a soothing voice which silenced the silver stallion's protest. "Your outburst alone speaks for itself. Star Commander is not just a position of reverence and fame. Those given the title have shown exceptional leadership skills and compassion for their peers."
"As opposed to yourself. Behavior reports from your superiors were rife with your attempts to exceed your comrades rather than assist them," said the gryphon, sitting up in their throne of a chair in a way that amplified their predatory gaze. Phineas tried his best not to scowl at the council member despite the perceived challenge.
As if to defuse the rising tension, Urax started to talk about what Phineas' commendable efforts accomplished for him. "The results of your training have made you capable of tackling labor that a pony of less impressive stature would find difficult to handle. Your dedicated study of starship functionality and methodology has also made you more qualified to handle the technical aspects of a space faring vessel. While you may not be Star Commander, you have the potential to be one of the most valued engineers in the Federation's history. An asset to any craft you may be assigned to."
"Yes, but I'm still not captain. I don't have my own ship!" Phineas thought, abysmally disappointed; but he bowed his head respectably to the council -even though he wanted to show that gryphon a thing what for!
"In spite of your reaction, which would have certainly landed another a few more months of academy time, your skills are needed and needed immediately. This is why your first assignment will be with the Iopteryx. You leave in three days, Phineas Startrot. May you continue to grow after leaving the doors of this chamber," said the zebra.
Phineas nodded and raised his right hoof to his head in salute. Then he left through the double doors of the council sanctum, walking down the long hallway that stretched out before him. Its walls were a deep blue, the floors were golden. Upon the walls were inspirational images of ponies, donkeys, gryphons and buffalo in uniform; looking larger than life itself with their puffed out chests and bright smiles. Phineas was anything but, feeling stung and somewhat numb. His ego, his pride...they had been thrown in his face. Dashed in a harsh manner that he admitted he had coming. He made the mistake of thinking hard work would make him privileged. The fact of the matter was, even though his records spoke for themselves, he was still just one pony out of a greatly larger sum. A sum that shared his passion and drive to be great.
"Three days, huh?" he mumbled to himself as he walked down the passageway. "Three days to get myself prepared. I'll be the best damned Chief Engineer the Iopteryx has ever had!"
He sighed. Old habits died hard. His habit: striving to be the "best" compulsively. He wondered where it came from. It certainly did not come from his parents or close family. He hadn't even heard from any of them since he joined the Federation and went away for the greater part of a year. And that was just fine with him. Pretty soon, he'd leave them all behind for something better.
The last of his things were placed into the relatively small chest that he was issued for his departure. The chest was more like a barrel, cylindrical with a hinged top. It was made from a white casing with black rings at the top and bottom and the entire thing was fitted with a hover pad and straps to secure it to Phineas' person. His small room -just a bit larger than the average utility closet- was cleared of anything that had personal significance to him. That meant every trinket and decoration he had on the tiny shelves on the walls, everything he had in and on his desk and all the clothes he possessed; three spare uniforms. When he was finished, all that left was his sleep pod and the white walls as stainless as they were the first day he stepped hoof into the room. A cadet did not have much with them when they joined the academy; Phineas had even less than that.
He turned and moved to the doorway and just before he passed through, he looked back one last time at what had become his home. A small, windowless room with only one light on the ceiling which cast a cold, muted white light upon white...everything else. It was not aesthetically pleasing to say the least, but it had been his place of solitude and rest. A place of study and learning where he sat at the desk with a flashlight, reading manuals and text books when he should have been asleep like the other cadets, recovering from the intense training that had dominated most of his daily routine when he was not in class. He was going to miss a bare hovel tucked away on the third floor of the third habitation building of the Starfleet academy.
"And somepony else will grow to miss you when they are in my place. Assuming they get as far as this. I may not be a Star Commander but at the very least I made it through the program."
"Getting sentimental over your room, Startrot?"
Phineas turned his head to the other pony. A pony by the name of Lightning Streak, and he was deserving of his name. He was a mostly white crystal pony with a blue tint to his shining coat and his mane and tail were even lighter than that, with a bright yellow at the fringes of them. He was almost painful to look at when the sun shone directly upon him...but in a good way, if that makes sense. Lightning sure saw it that way, as he'd mirror the ponies in the pictures hung on the walls, puffing out his chest, looking heroic as all who laid eyes upon him were assaulted by his radiance. It was why after a time, he was given a special uniform. One of a significantly darker shade of blue with a black trim. This, as well as a tail sheath and a helmet with a rubbery cover for his mane. While opposed against the notion of having to cover himself up in such a way initially, he eventually relented.
"Ha! The Federation recognizes by brilliance to the point where they issue me, a mere cadet, his own personalized uniform!" he boasted when he showed up to a training session adorned in his more visually forgiving attire. Phineas was sure to show him up that day. Anything Lightning did, he did better. Which was why he was not Star Commander of his very own spaceship now, and why Lightning had something of a rivalry with him.
"No more sentimental than you when you thought you lost your comb," Phineas said coolly before walking the rest of the way out of his dorm and pressing his hoof against the wall unit just off to the right side of the doorway. The automatic door slid across from right to left and clicked shut, then popped out a few inches to make the seams in the blue wall disappear. Hoping to avoid an issue with the prideful stallion -more prideful than himself- Phineas started to trot down the corridor to the central elevator where he would go down to the subway station and catch a ride to the departure hub in Ponyville. There the Iopteryx awaited its launch window in just under two hours. His hovering travel case made a wavering hum as he moved, the underside of it giving off a cool blue glow and causing the air to ripple around it.
***
"That comb was a family heirloom!" said Lightning, matching pace with Phineas fairly quickly with his own levitating luggage in tow. His chin was held upward and turned away from Phineas as if the pony in the strange suit were insulted over such petty things. And he usually was. And yet he had made it through Starfleet academy...
"Where are you heading now?" Startrot asked, trying to be conversational when in actuality he couldn't care less about what the Crystal pony's affairs would be like after leaving the institution. As long as he didn't have to see Lightning again, Phineas was all right-
"Well if you must know, and really you must be dying to know, I was assigned to the starship Iopteryx!"
"You're fucking with me." Phineas stated mentally, reflexively at that. "That's wonderful," he said out loud while expanding on his thought: "Don't let them see your hatred. It only provokes them."
"Ah yes, being the navigator of such a stellar vessel will be amazing! Of course, I believe I am more befitting the role of a captain but navigator is the closest thing to that, hmm?" Lightning asked. Phineas' urge to put a pin through his bubble was like an inferno born of a single spark.
"I would think the pony the captain chooses as second in command would be the closest thing, Lightning Streak," Phineas replied with as much restraint as he could muster. "And no captain would be stupid enough to choose you of all ponies aboard."
"My my, you don't seem so enthused!" Lightning said in a melodramatic way, and it was then that Phineas knew the true meaning of this encounter. Lightning knew. Lightning knew and was going to goad him with it.
"The son of a bitch..."
"What position did the council assign you, the best of the best of us!" said the pony in the dark blue suit. Phineas could see the wide, spiteful grin the pony must have had underneath his mask with the large, insectoid yellow screens over his eyes. Nevertheless, he stayed tactful and punctual. This little game was about subtlety, and outright telling the Crystal pony to fuck off would be ruining the fun. If there was a silver lining to the fact Lightning Streak would be aboard the Iopteryx, it was that the game could continue even beyond the farthest reaches of the planet's atmosphere.
"While you are reading star charts and projections, I'll be ordering my staff of well trained engineers around to make sure your absurd, convoluted courses don't take half a millennium to traverse," Phineas said flatly. Shortly after he came to the elevator unit, a gigantic tube made of what appeared to be glass but in reality was several times stronger. In it were several elevator shafts, the whole assembly rotating based on which elevator was most available when it was called upon. Startrot pressed the call button and waited.
Lightning scoffed and gasped, gasped and scoffed and continued like so for what might have been a minute or more. Phineas thought the pony was choking, having a heart attack and experiencing a seizure all at the same time. There was some satisfaction to be had there for him, as morbid as it was.
"My courses will not be absurd nor convoluted!" Lightning Streak exclaimed once he regained the ability to articulate his speech. Just then, the elevator came up, its doors parting with a mechanical hum.
"In that case, we will only get to our destinations even faster," Phineas responded. He walked forward into the chrome plated elevator, pressed the button at the lowest part of the panel and then watched as the many levels of the academy float on by over his head as he was lowered into its depths. Lightning did not speak. The silver pony enjoyed the silence -almost more than he enjoyed mangling the Crystal pony's attempt to get under his skin. Only almost, though.
***
The last Phineas saw of Starfleet academy was the garden plaza at ground level. The garden was bright orange and red with the colors of autumn. He realized the sight would the one of the last he would remember of Earth. It was then the irony of an earth pony heading up into space struck him. He let out a chuckle, something Lightning scoffed and turned his chin up at. The train ride to Ponyville was going to be...pleasant, Phineas could already see it.
To his surprise, the train ride was marked by a silence the likes of which Phineas never expected from the arrogant pony that had become his rival. He sat in the navy blue, padded seat he had taken to the right of the train car and Lightning sat directly opposite on the left. They both fished out a book to read from their travel cases and spent the trip doing so, though Lightning was quite obviously brooding. The landscape was a blur as the train shot across it at several tens of miles an hour. It made the ride from the Manehattan academy to Ponyville exceptionally short, just under an hour. That left little more than an hour before the Iopteryx was sent into space.
The train pulled into the Federation transport hub and the doors opened with a hiss of air. Phineas and Lightning Streak, among several other fledgling flyers stepped out onto the platform of the station, which was a semicircle. When it was completely vacant, the white and golden train pulled off and gained speed, suspended a few feet off of the single rail it followed. The front of it had a long horn and its windows were pink, an image after Celestia herself. Immediately after stepping out, Phineas was greeted with the launch hub, the entire super structure being defined by the metal with a lovely sheen and a sapphire tint. The front wall was the reinforced glass given a prismatic charm, to the left it was multicolored and wavering like the princess of the dawn's mane. To the right, it was solid and darker to match the princess of the dusk's.
Phineas and the hundreds of others like him funneled into the building. After all the trials and meticulous methods of weeding out recruits, he was surprised to see that so many had passed through their respective academies. Ponies and non-ponies -maybe even a few dragons!- from all across Equestria and all sorts of walks of life were at the center of the country in one place. Phineas found that, in spite of this unifying establishment, ponies barely spared each other a passing glance. They were too busy making their way to the ships they would be spending a great deal of their careers on. The layout of the launch hub was like a super massive airport. There were many boarding terminals extending from the main lobby area with massive screens each denoting which ship belonged to which. The Iopteryx was roughly dead ahead from the entrance of the lobby. His hard earned destiny...which Lightning Streak happened to be a part of. Fate hardly worked in the way of one's choosing.
***
Dream Catcher. Crescent Moon. Star Chaser. Cloud Breaker. Blazing Ruby. Fedoria. Shimmering Dawn. Luna-One. Celestia-Prime. Those were only a few of the names Phineas saw entering the open-topped shipyard. Each craft was as distinct as their names, which were printed in large angular letters of various colors depending on the color of the vessel's hull. The Iopteryx had its name emblazoned in bright red against a light gray hull with black highlights. It was roughly elliptically shaped with two oblong pylons mounted on its underside and two delta shaped wings on either side which were folded upwards to form a narrow, uneven V. At the front was a cone-shaped structure which the silver stallion first thought to be a horn, another homage to the princesses, but then saw the screen which was near the tip. That was the cockpit...and in comparison to the rest of the craft, it was tiny. The ship itself was dwarfed by many of the other vessels docked at the station.
"And who might you be, fledgeling?" a mauve mare officer asked Phineas at the end of the ramp extending out from the Iopteryx's side to the boarding platform. Her uniform was white and black like his, with red stripes across her chest showing she was part of the security force. She was a shapely Earth pony mare. She had a black hat on her light yellow mane, the top portion of it hidden away but the rest of the long strands flowing out from the red striped cap and down her neck.
"Phineas Startrot," he said then watched the officer look to her right. There, on a small computer screen his ID and designation was visible to her. When she looked back to him, he added: "and what is a beautiful mare like you doing in a place like this?"
"My job, Chief Engineer," she said somewhat playfully. "You should get suited up to do yours. Take off is just around the corner."
"Do I not get the pleasure of a name?" Phineas asked with a cock of his head. Lightning Streak, who was behind him ever since they left the train, cleared his throat forcefully.
"Amethyst Shine," the officer replied with a smile. "Now if you'll move along mister Startrot, I think your friend is getting a bit impatient."
As he walked past her, Phineas muttered into Amethyst's ear: "Please; he's not a friend of mine."
The Iopteryx's inner walls were milky white and the floors were a darker gray than the exterior plating. Already, the ship was more visually stimulating than his room at the academy, but it only got better! On the walls were multicolored lines which were visual maps of the vessel. Red lines led to the officer station, blue lines to the scientific research labs, green to the medbay, so on and so forth. Orange led to the engineering deck and subsequently; the engine room.
The way to the bridge -and the navigation center- was off in the complete opposite direction. "Thank the glory of the princesses," Phineas thought, tracking the route as it was laid out by the light purple strip running across the wall. He and Lighting Streak might have been on the same ship but they would rarely cross paths should fate be so kind. Phineas did not get his hopes up though. Eventually Lightning will seek him out to try to spite him in some way. Maybe the Crystal pony would succeed, then Phineas would be the one looking for the Navigator and it would all be a vicious cycle.
"The joy of rivalry."
***
A small group of ponies walked the halls conversing, all wearing the white and black cadet uniform. Some, like him, still had their traveling cases strapped to them. Phineas arched a brow. Was the crew for this ship comprised completely of fresh graduates from Starfleet? He expected to see some veterans with medals and pins decorating their uniforms. That's how the pictures made it seem at the very least; that everypony who went up on a vessel and did their tour of the galaxy became honorable heroes decorated by all manner of prestige.
"Hey, Phineas!" he heard someone with a deep voice call out to him.
Phineas glanced around the hallway for the one to do so and it did not take long at all for him to see the minotaur waving a large hand at him. He was standing next to one of the Iopteryx's large windows, previously looking out at the spaceport and those still boarding their ships.
He recognized the burly person as someone from his physical training regiment, specifically the weight training segment. One look at his rippling muscles and it was no surprise that the ,minotaur was one cadet Phineas found it impossible to best in terms of displays of brute strength. Phineas always thought the uniform the minotaur wore -despite being both extremely flexible and durable- would fray and break around each bulge in his body.
"Amadeus!" Phineas replied, trotting over to the dark haired minotaur. He had a set of horns strange for his kind. They dipped down off to the side with the pointed ends then arcing upwards. They looked more like tusks than a minotaur's horns.
"You made it! High-four-hoof!" the bull said, preparing to swing his palm around. Phineas had to rear and do a small hop in order to meet it with his hoof. In addition to being extremely well built, Amadeus was more than twice Phineas' height.
"As if there were any doubts that I'd make it through the academy!" Phineas said with a small twinge of arrogance. He leaned against the wall and inspected a hoof aloofly as he said it.
"So you're Star Commander, first class, huh? I'm honored that you're even talking to me now!" Amadeus replied with a bit of a smirk. When Phineas became rigid and wide-eyed, he had to fight back a fit of laughter. "Don't sweat it, kid. No pony is just made Star Commander. Even captains have to prove themselves to get that rank!"
Phineas let out a soft sigh. "I already had this talk with the council, but I appreciate the effort, Amadeus."
"Don't mention it," the minotaur replied before pressing on "so what is your position?"
"Chief Engineer. Apparently the council thinks that I would be more qualified ordering underlings around rather than fly a spaceship," Phineas answered with a flick of his hoof.
The corner of Amadeus' mouth dipped down slightly. "That's a pretty crummy way of looking at it..."
"Oh, no I didn't mean anything like that... I just find it strange is all. They say I would rather show that I'm better than other ponies than help them... so they put me in a leadership position?" Phineas explained. He wasn't ungrateful for his assignment, especially when so many others were rejected for lesser ranks. It just... wasn't what he expected.
"I'd say that's a good sign then," Amadeus responded.
"How so?" Phineas inquired.
"There are some things the academy can't teach you. Teamwork and compassion are things we all have to develop on our own. If the council is willing to put a pony without those things in a leadership role, then they probably believe that pony will develop them on their own," Amadeus said in a strangely profound, intellectual way.
Phineas could never have guessed minotaurs had that side to them, he only saw a wall of muscle and power in his mind's view of the bestial-looking creatures. What was it that he was told three days ago in the council sanctum? May you continue to grow after leaving the doors of this chamber.
"Lesson learned..." Phineas mused. To Amadeus, he asked: "But what if there's an emergency? What if something happens and those engineers need me to direct them and I can't? I'd be more inclined to fix a problem myself before sending somepony else to! That's a pretty scary situation... every life aboard this ship could be in peril before we even take off because their Chief Engineer is unfit to do his duty!"
Amadeus made a thoughtful hum and stroked the fur on his chin until he had a short beard of sorts. "Well if you're that worried about it, I'd say go to the captain and ask for a reassignment. Would be difficult on such short notice."
"Tell me about it..." Phineas mumbled.
"As I see it though? The council believes in you. Do you believe in yourself?"
"Hell no!" Phineas blurted out, making a group of three passing by pause and shoot him strange looks.
As Phineas visibly drooped from embarrassment, Amadeus continued: "And there lies your problem. You can't hope to accomplish something if you don't believe in yourself. I would have thought the academy taught you that! What happened to the confident Startrot that was here just a few minutes ago?"
"He's having an awkward talk with fear and inhibition." Phineas deadpanned, then he took a deep breath. "Do you think I can pull it off?" he asked.
Amadeus shrugged and started to walk down the hall. "I don't know. You tell me. You are the best, right? I've got to go get ready, blast off imminent and all that. You should hurry along too, you haven't even unpacked."
As he he watched the minotaur leave, the realization struck Phineas that out of all the months he spent at the academy, Amadeus was the closest thing to an actual friend he had.
"Hey, wait! You didn't tell me what your assignment was!" Phineas shouted to the departing minotaur.
"Security detail and combat, where else would a minotaur feel right at home!?"
***
In just a few minutes the Iopteryx would be airborne. It was -along with the multiple other ships currently docked- to be one of the first of the next wave of starships shooting around the galaxy. Phineas kept reminding himself of that fact within his quarters near the ship's aft. He did not bother unpacking his traveling case; moving into his new place was not a priority when the craft was moments away from hurtling into space. As plain as it currently was, it was a lot more than what he was used to. It was larger, for one. His desk especially, which was almost as large as one of the walls with two cabinets on either side of it. On it were three terminals and screens and the chair situated in front of it was a big, blocky, swiveling one that had padded cushions. The bottom of it transitioned into the floor itself. His work station came complete with its own desk lamp too! Its mount was chrome and it had a light green shade on it. His flashlight could finally be put to rest.
His flashlight as well as his cadet uniform. His inventory of issued assets included his CE attire and the accompanying PDA that came with it. They where placed atop his bed, his new uniform found in a case and the device resting on top of that. Phineas was quick to change into his new outfit. The uniform was black and enclosed his entire body, made from the same material as the white and black suit he was accustomed to. Resting over his torso was an orange vest made of a hard metallic substance that was still quite light to wear. Just before his right wrist was an orange leg band that had a case where PDA could be stored and used.
The PDA was a small rectangular module. It was brown save for the screen, which was a minty green color and the text on it was white. The device had the built-in lens of a flashlight for when Phineas found himself working in low light conditions. It also served as an environmental scanner and data uplink for the rest of the ship. It would allow him to keep in touch with all other sections of the Iopteryx and the rest of its crew, which numbered twenty in total. It would also keep him informed on the state of the ship's many...many systems.
"If only clothes made the stallion..." Phineas muttered to himself, then he started chuckling. It did feel pretty good to wear the uniform, and with some vanity he felt it looked pretty well on him.
"What am I worried about? I am Phineas Startrot! There hasn't been one challenge that couldn't beat, learning how to lead a few ponies should be no sweat! Amadeus is right, I've come too far to start doubting myself now!"
The silver pony puffed out his chest and looked as heroic as he could to an imaginary crowd. He could see his awards already, pins, broaches and medals bestowed upon him with the greatest of reverence. The best of the best being recognized as such.
The prideful grin on his face faded though when his PDA chimed and the sweet voice of a mare flowed through. "Engineers to your stations please! Take off in five minutes! Commander Astartex, out!"
"Whoa..." Phineas said under his breath. There was one veteran aboard the Iopteryx, and it was the Star Commander Astartex. She was indeed first class, and she was to be the Iopteryx's captain?
Four other voices followed her own, all saying things along the lines of "Affirmative." and "In position."
Phineas raised the PDA and reported in: "Understood." He then left his room through the automatic sliding door. That much was the same as his miniscule dorm.
***
The engine room was an incredibly large, circular room yet occupied by a group of four. The walls had all manner of panels and monitors. Metal ridges, tubes and bulky machines added a constant, low rumbling ambiance to the room. At center of the room, the floor dipped down into a containment field, a dome of reinforced glass enclosing it. There, four arched metal pylons stood like monoliths.
The ones to tend to this part of the craft were a group consisting of one red unicorn stallion, two pegasi mares -a yellow one and a cream one- and a black scaled young dragon male which stood taller than the others, yet was not gripped by his kind's innate nature. They all wore their engineering barding. When Phineas came through the automated doors they all became stiff in salute. They all knew him, but he knew nothing about them.
He raised his PDA and cycled over to the crew list. He then went through to all those assigned to the engineering unit, finding that his name was the first on the list.
"Prancer, Sunbeam, Moonshine and... Gem" Phineas murmured. "Who names a creature that eats gems...Gem?"
Phineas disregarded the oddity that was the black dragon's name. "Hello, all!" he said to them cheerily to make a good first impression. He ended up sounding like a Sargent at the academy, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. "Lets go ahead and get this thing in perfect condition for flight, shall we?"
"Affirmative, Chief Startrot!" said the others in unison. Phineas raised a brow. They were probably together in the academy and now they were all together aboard the Iopteryx.
The unicorn, Prancer... pranced over to one of the myriad of displays mounted on a wall. Sunbeam rushed over to the large terminal across the way, pressing the keys upon the keypad rapidly. Moonshine fluttered on over to the to large, bulky machine with several circular holes arranged one above the other along its height. Gem followed and started tapping away at the small panel on the steel plated contraption. With a hiss and a whir, cylindrical rods glowing an energetic, bright purple were released. Gem then put the rods into the larger machine, which was returned with a loud hum.
Phineas looked to his PDA, monitoring the change in the ship's energy levels. "Spell-core engine powering up nominally," he reported to the bridge. He expected a reply from Commander Astartex.
"I read you Chief Startrot. Power levels are looking fine up here," another mare replied, but not the Star Commander.
Phineas went through the crew list once more, discovering that the superior officer was not in charge of the ship. That responsibility fell to a certain Shirley Novashot.
"Commander Astartex isn't at the helm?" the silver stallion asked,
"She is... indirectly. She will be supervising this entire operation, Chief Startrot," was the answer given to him.
"Ah. Good to know," he responded evenly, though his thoughts were the opposite. "Figures. The council risks putting an inept leader in position with a Star Commander as the backup plan. Brilliant."
But there was no time to lament. The pylons at the central containment field had begun to rotate, magical energy swirling into an orb in the space between them. As the pylons gained speed, the energy intensified until it was nearly a solid, bright sphere with energy jetting off in random directions before arcing back inwards. It was like looking at a pink star from the observation deck.
Before the minute had passed, Startrot got confirmation that the Spell-core engine was active, the ship's boosters blaring to life.
At the shipyard, struts and supports were recalled as engines roared, ships of all shapes and sizes lifting from their docks. They were slow at first but like the engines that drove them, they gained momentum, angling upwards as they sped up into the skies. In time, the departing fleet had reached altitudes that no pegasus could hope to survive at on their own. In time, the fleet of explorers were rocketing away from their colorful blue world into the darkness of space, with only the light of distant stars to decorate the vast emptiness in between systems. The Earth fell away, ringed by a halo of blue-green.
The Iopteryx powered its way past the silver moon, its wings extended forth to form a roughly X shaped formation. At several miles above the lunar surface with the sun hitting it sidelong, the ship was but a shadow except for where its own light shone through its windows and where the bright pink exhaust of its magical boosters was released. The sight was a regular thing for the inhabitants of the lunar colonies. Starfleet ships dominating their non-existent sky was as common as the supply shuttles which kept life on the former-prison of Nightmare Moon comfortable. At one time, being sent to the moon was a fate ponies trembled at. Now voyages to the celestial satellite were commercial and frequent.
Startrot looked out of the starboard observation deck at the specks below. The grand viewing room was accessible from many of the upper deck levels and was located a few segments from the bridge. The deck levels were U shaped terraces where the bottom level was the largest and the top one was recessed, creating an incline beneath the curved window. Stairways and elevators connected each level to the next and looking down from the top allowed one to appreciate the beauty of a simulated park, complete with real grass and trees. The lush expanse not only provided renewable oxygen, but a garden located beneath the treeline provided fresh food for the space travelers of the Iopteryx.
Aside from the relative proximity to Lightning Streak, Phineas enjoyed being in it, for it provided a breathtaking spectacle of the universe on the other side of the ship's screens and hull. The observation deck was only second to actually going out there in a spacesuit or taking one of the Iopteryx's exploration shuttles.While small from miles overhead, the dark rings Phineas saw contrasting the surface of the moon were in fact expansive cities sprawling across the bright sand, home to many ponies who went about their business as ponies went about their business on Earth. Phineas' heart went out to them!
"What a travesty! How could one leave their homeworld only to settle on their closest neighbor? Without seeing the rest of our wonderful existence?"
The engineer raised his PDA and went through its many settings in search of any messages or summons he might have missed while sightseeing and thinking. The device would have pinged or chirped, but he could never be too careful; especially with his position as Chief Engineer and all. When he found that he hadn't been called on to rectify some problem, he went back to staring out into space.
"We just took off," he said to himself, "there couldn't be a problem already."
He blinked a few times and looked uneasy. Unable to help himself, he raised his PDA to his face once more and did a look-over of all of the ship's systems; the great many that they were. No life threatening disaster. He sighed and put his hoof back on the deck's plated floor.
"And I didn't jinx anything... yet."
Phineas fought the urge to go through the system check again. The training and lessons across the span of those many months had instilled in him the skills and knowledge he would require for this monumentous outing. It had always been his dream to fly amongst the stars. Yet he could not rid himself of this underlying stress and fear that something was going to horribly wrong and not even the presence of the seasoned explorer Astartex could consolidate him.
The sound of parting mechanical doors sounded from behind him. A familiar sounding voice reached his ears. "First time jitters?" asked Amethyst Shine as she walked into the chamber. Phineas looked away from the huge window and towards her. She was already at the railing when he did, the mare propping her hooves up on it and looking down at the greenery below and not the stars above. Her cadet uniform was replaced with her security outfit; a black one-piece suit with a red metallic vest, elbow and knee pads and a helmet which had a retractable orange visor that wrapped around Amethyst's face.
"Nah, the engine room's in capable hooves... and hands," Phineas replied. On the basis of his dignity, he did not admit to his nervousness. "I decided I could spend a little time here until I'm needed for something. Why are you here?" he continued.
"First time jitters," Amethyst said, then chuckled weakly afterwards. "You put the time in the academy and before you know it, most of a year has gone by and you're leaving all you've ever known behind. There's a certain... uncertainty when you're dealing with the... unknown."
"Redundancy, thy name is Amethyst Shine," Startrot thought. "Sometimes leaving all you knew behind is a good thing," he told her. "Sometimes, there isn't much to leave behind...but a lot more to gain."
"Is that your story? You joined Starfleet to get the most out of life?" she asked, putting a hoof to the side of her helmet and sliding the visor up from her pink eyes, which were fixed on him.
The silver pony recoiled a bit, unsure of what she meant by that. By one measure, he did join the academy to do just that, to fulfill his dream and be part of something greater than himself. But he had also did it because he knew there was nothing on Earth that truly held him down besides gravity. He was as free as free got before he enlisted in the academy. Disowned with no legal or job obligations, it would have been all too easy for a pony like him to lose direction and fall to the wayside.
"Let's just say I'm here right now because there's not much down there offered to a pony like me," Phineas responded after a moment of thought.
The mauve mare looked inquisitive. "How so? If you've made it through the academy then surely you have a few skills and talents to offer elsewhere..."
"Not what I meant; and I'd rather not talk about it much. Somethings are better left behind and forgotten, you know?"
"I... guess?" Amethyst replied.
With the conversation getting awkward, Phineas took the initiative to dismiss himself. "I hope you feel better soon. I'll go... calibrate something I guess. Nothing's better than efficiency, except for... more... efficiency..."
Amethyst only gave him a questioning gaze.
"Yeah... well... I'll see you around some time." said the silver stallion, who left with arguably unnecessary urgency.
***
It wasn't long before Phineas was moving through the maintenance tunnels, passageways with entrances hidden away from the rest of the crew to ensure the safety of the craft and personnel. True to his word, he had two toolboxes strapped to his flanks, resting over his upper thigh. If his uniform wasn't covering it already, the toolboxes would have completely obscured his cutie mark, the moon in the center of a ring of sun rays as if it were an eclipse.
The walls of the maintenance tunnel were rife with small, multicolored lights and piping running overhead. Terminals flickered with alerts and notifications about system statuses and the sounds of the ship's internal workings were ghostly noises. Rumbling, thumping and hums leaking through the walls from the hidden depths of the Iopteryx; ambiance absent elsewhere on the ship. It would have unsettled the silver stallion somewhat if he hadn't known it was all technology at work. From the sounds he tried to identify the number of machines and components at work.
"Spell matrix converter, energy transfer units, mana accumulators, passive magi-tech array... hmm..." Phineas muttered to himself as he walked down the dimly lit hallway. Eventually he came to a wall panel which he flipped down to get at the machinery it hid: a remote access terminal for the spell-core engine. He set his red tool kits down and pulled out the tools of the trade, his trusty automated wrench and magnetic screw driver. With them he got to work disconnecting the terminal and disassembling it, taking apart each component and mentally labeling them before putting the parts aside for later use. He rerouted wires, changed the overall layout of the device and then proceeded to put everything back together again. It was long, technical work, but once the terminal was back in service, Phineas saw an increase in energy output with less stress on the spell-core on his PDA.
He smiled at his hoofwork. "Performance increase of .00921 percent! That'll get us past the fourth star in the Stare constellation in less than an hour if the thrust is at max!"
"Uh, Chief? We've got a strange energy spike registered here. Captain's a bit worried something's amiss," Prancer reported from the engine room.
"Oh damn," Phineas mused. He really should have told the others what he was going to do, or else fiddling with the ship's internal workings might have raised more than a few alarms. He raised his PDA and replied: "Don't worry, that's just me. I'll be doing a bit of tinkering with the ship for a while, to get the most out of it. First the engines, then the big guns. By time I'm done with them, whatever forces us to use them won't be able to tell if they got a mana blast to the face or if they got caught in a supernova!"
"Tinkering, Chief Startrot?" came the voice of Gem the dragon.
"You know. Calibrations and the likes."
"Anything we can help with?" asked Moonshine.
"Try to keep the ship functional, if not prevent it from exploding outright," the silver stallion replied mentally. "Maintain power levels across the board and shut off the systems that might interfere with something I'm doing. Last thing we need is spell reflux messing with the machinery," he ordered. Basically the same thing he thought only worded more professionally.
"Understood," said the others in unison before they ceased communication. It really was strange how they seemed to in synch.
"Did their academy produce androids or something?" Phineas murmured. He gathered his things and made his way down the length of the ship through its hidden corridors. There was a lot to do, but with the others doing their part, the task of configuring the ship's major systems would not be so daunting.
***
The last panel was locked in its place with an enthusiastic slam, an almost mad grin on Phineas' face as he put in its fastening bolts and screws back into their respective places. One week! In the grand scheme of things that was a short time, but it had taken an entire week of Earth-time along with nonstop work to bring the Iopteryx to its peak of mechanical performance. The last plate was more than just a sheet of metal covering some circuitry and devices. It was an achievement in which Startrot's skill and ability came together to make an immaculate product.
Over the days that passed, Phineas had come to think of the Iopteryx as his own. Not in terms of being it's pilot, no. Captain Novashot was more than deserving of that position, showing exceptional awareness of how a craft many times larger than herself can handle various maneuvers. But he doubted that she knew just how that zero G bank and transfer was executed on the basis that he knew. If there was anypony who could make the claim that they knew the Iopteryx inside and out, it would be Phineas Startrot. And he had upgraded it to do more than it ever could previously. It was something the already prideful stallion was greatly proud of.
He was still in the lower levels of the ship when he heard the report over his PDA's communicator.
"Escape pod distress beacon active Captain Novashot, in orbit of a gas giant."
"What do you suggest, Commander Astartex?"
"We retrieve the pod and hope to Celestia that there are survivors on board!"
Phineas was stunned. "Escape pod?" he questioned mentally. Another Federation ship had met its demise somewhere out in territories never ventured? It was almost too horrible to consider but yet there was no other explanation for the distress signal.
"Aye, Star Commander. Lightning Streak, adjust our course accordingly."
With this news, Phineas made his way to the upper decks as quickly as he could. He reached the observation chamber in time to see the Iopteryx make its approach towards the green sphere. Its atmosphere was violent, constantly churning and flashing with alien lightning. An accretion disk had formed around the enormous planet, comprised of natural rocky debris and the sheered hull of a Federation spacecraft, whole sections of the vessel idle in the treacherous field. His heart lurched upon seeing such a thing. The questions of how and why a starship would meet such a grizzly fate came as if they had their own spell-core warp drives. What reason could a captain have for getting so close to such a dangerous planet?
"The same one Novashot has now?"
He frowned at that. The remains were only from one ship, one that was quite larger than the Iopteryx. The commanders of the ship had no reason to fly near to such a violent environment, but more disturbing was the fact there wasn't any indication the ship had taken any countermeasures. It had not raised its shields or used its weapons to clear a path. It was as if it was just guided to its doom with its crew aboard. And only one escape pod managed to survive the treacherous field, carrying only the smallest fraction of the ponies and non-ponies which would have lived on it.
Captain Novashot was not inclined on repeating the disaster with her own vessel. "Bring up the forward barrier at full strength. Deploy midway cannons for good measure!" she ordered over the ship's comms. Readily enough, the ship's magical shield was raised, a hemispherical wall of rippling blue energy which started at the point of the ship's nose and was as wide as the ship's wingspan. Plates on the hull pulled away to free the gun ports. On either side of the craft's midsection the cannons deployed, the barrels of the guns leading up to a narrow rod which ended with a bulbous mass of metal. Around the rods were coils crackling with magical energies like a pair of giant unicorn horns. They swiveled to face potential targets as the Iopteryx went on its way.
Space rocks and hull plating that came in contact with the field fizzled away, the wayward chunks that broke off from them and slipped around the shield were then obliterated by the midway cannons with pink beams before they could collide with the starship.
Like an icebreaker ship, the Iopteryx made its way through the hazardous ring slowly and was even slower than its approach when it neared the escape pod. With a clear mastery over her controls, Novashot brought the Iopteryx to a complete halt.
"Retrieval team ready?" Commander Astartex asked.
"Ready and awaiting deployment, Star Commander!"
Without delay, the area of plating between the two pylons parted, revealing a large hangar where two lines of five exploration shuttles were stored. One of them had been prepped for the task of bringing back the pod which was a fraction of its size. The shuttle was towed from its hold by floor clamps and then turned to face the exit. That was when the retrieval team aboard activated the thrust and shot out into space, crossing the relatively short distance between the pod and the Iopteryx in minutes. The agile ship came to a stop and its nose split into four. From the opening emanated a magical glow; the aura wrapped around the escape pod and when the shuttle turned back to return to the starship, the pod followed suit as if in a telekinetic grip.
***
Star Commander Astartex, Captain Shirley and several officers including Amadeus and Amethyst stood around the cigar shaped pod shortly after it was brought back. The officers were all wearing armored plating and helmets over their black one-pieces.
It was a dark gray thing, banged up and dented. It had a Federation insignia that was almost completely scratched off of its plating. A yellow ring blinked a few times and with a hiss of air, the panel the ring was on popped up and rolled upwards. A strange fog billowed out from the pod.
Amadeus grunted and raised his weapon, a laser rifle almost as thick as the burly arm which supported it with various knobs and wires running along it. The minotaur looked over to the others, which deployed the hovering disks from the metal pack on their backs. The disks had smaller laser rifles mounted on them, which aimed where their user looked as long as they wore their helmet.
The situation in the hangar bay of the Iopteryx was a tense one. A silence almost as absolute as the silence of space hung in the large carrying hold. Then, it happened.
A scrawny pony, thinner than bone-thin shambled out from the pod. Though the rescue unit was far smaller than an exploration cruiser, one pod was able to seat at most ten ponies. But from this one; there was only this impossibly small pony. A pony whose fur was in patches sporadically over their bodies. Their eyes were bloodshot and glazed over. Their mane and tail had shriveled. Their veins bulged on their tight skin. Their color had drained and their flesh was almost translucent.
They reared up, their broken gaze locked on the roof of the hangar. It babbled in a strange tongue to all those in the room, their voice devoid of emotion or anything to discern gender with. With the deathly silence, the otherworldly language echoed like an occult chant. Amadeus held his gun with a shaky grip but could not bring himself to open fire. His fellow officers -though their helms hid their faces- looked on, confused and uncertain as to how to proceed.
“We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far.” rasped the pony, then it looked down at the group gathered before it. Its red eyes went wide for an instant and with a slow breath, it slumped forward and fell out from the pod with an unceremonious thud against the metal floor.
No one was to be told about what was found inside the pod. Amadeus and Amethyst both could not keep such a secret, however.
They were together in the orange striped hallway not too long after their experience when Phineas came through automated doors. They were the only ones there, and it was there Amadeus and Amethyst told him everything.
"We are going to get in so much trouble, Fin," Amadeus commented. He was trying to make his hoofsteps as quiet as he possibly could and failing almost comically in that regard. One could not make a boulder stealthy. His hoofsteps in the red corridor carried with them the weight and strength of a minotaur warrior. Amethyst and Phineas were little more than mice next to him. Perhaps they were little less.
"Then why did you tell me about it?" Phineas replied somewhat irritably, making sure to keep his voice down. "Why involve me at all if I wasn't supposed to know?" he asked earnestly.
"Because we had to tell someone!" Amethyst answered hotly herself. "Amadeus knew you for months... knew that if anypony could handle knowing about this, it'd be you. And since I've come to know you over the past week... I believed him. Do you have any idea what it is like to keep a secret like this? To be forced to lie about seeing a pony die right in front of you?"
"No... but..." Phineas gritted his teeth. "Why is it a secret?" he asked, almost growling.
"To prevent a panic. It's bad enough we found a destroyed Federation ship, we don't need the rest of us torn up about what happened to its sole survivor," she said.
"You know... like we are," Amadeus added flatly. "Star Commander's been conferencing with Starfleet on how to handle it but until then this is supposed to be a contained incident."
"A 'contained incident' I need to see before it's sent off to the lab for the gryphons to poke at," said Phineas, needlessly reminding the two officers why they were currently going through the restricted area of the security sector of the Iopteryx.
Just as how the service tunnels kept unauthorized personnel away from the ship's internal workings, the mechanically locked doors in the red area kept the curious and nosy away from business that did not concern them. Said business included the ship's brig and armory among other things. The trio were lucky not to have come across the three other officers as they made their way through the secure sector.
Eventually they came to the end of the hallway. Another corridor made the cross of a T at the end of it. Lined up side by side were holding chambers. The officers led the Chief Engineer to the one at the far left of the corridor, which slid apart when presented with the minotaur's PDA. Any officer could have accessed the door, but they weren't supposed to have unauthorized guests with them.
Already Phineas could tell something was wrong. The body was on a stretcher, covered by a canvas sheet but it was barely there. There was a bulge where the snout was pointed to the lamp that shone directly down on it but the rest of the pony's shape was barely visible underneath the cover.
The silver stallion's jaws were agape in shock. So it was true. When he demanded he be shown what he was told, he had his doubts. Not practical ones, justifiable ones, but ones bred from stubbornness and disbelief. But there was no denying it now. A Federation ship was destroyed, everyone that was on board was now dead, and the last of the crew was here, their body malformed beyond comprehension by means unknown.
"I... I... isn't this a scientific vessel!? Shouldn't we be informing everyone about this? To understand what the hell has happened!?"
"Calm down, Fin!" said the dark haired minotaur.
"This is why we were supposed to keep this a secret... we can't risk productivity of the crew by having this get out..." Amethyst said, her voice so low she might have been mumbling.
Phineas sighed and responded with: "Well everyone else will be just as curious as I as to what exactly the exploration team brought back with them regardless. A destroyed ship in some forsaken planet's ring is news enough without the escape pod that led us to it. Now we have it and we aren't willing to let them know what was inside? That's going to get a response and it won't be a good one."
"Something the Captain and Star Commander know quite well. It's why they need Starfleet's input. It'd be one thing to say we found no survivors and that the distress signal was a fluke... but that still leaves the question of what did... that unanswered." Amadeus did not need to gesture to the cadaver that had already wasted away when the pony was still alive.
Phineas looked back the way they came and said "I'm... going to get out of here... before somepony finds me where I'm not supposed to be."
With that, he started to walk, not waiting for a reply from the two others. A subdued feeling of dread came over him, a sensation that something was amiss -more so than the body on the stretcher. A feeling of wrongness he felt a week prior, that fate was going to take a terrible turn for the worst and that he should be monitoring anything and everything he could to see it coming.
"It's... nothing." he tried to tell himself. "You were wrong before. Things have been going great! You are on good terms with the other engineers and you've turned this ship into something of your own!"
His self-assurance did nothing to rid him of the uneasiness he felt. It was as if the body was an omen and only upon viewing it beneath that white cover, its meaning was truly revealed. And it was a horrible truth bearing strife and misfortune for all aboard the Iopteryx -that the ship would meet the same fate of the lost vessel before it; floating in both infinity and eternity.
He had to get such unsettling thoughts from his head. When he left the security sector and made certain that he was unnoticed, he made a beeline for the engineering block. He needed a distraction. He needed to do some calibrations. He needed to bask in the glow of the Spell-core. He needed to do something.
***
The Iopteryx gradually tilted its forward end upwards at the careful input by Captain Novashot at the helm. Once pointed at zero degrees vertical, the engines fired up. Plumes of violent pink energy were expelled as the ship flew directly out of the volatile planet's ring of death, for flying out the way the ship had come in wasn't necessary now that the point of interest had been dealt with; and going vertical was faster and safer. Only a few shards of the stricken vessel's hull, meteors and meteorites posed a threat to the Iopteryx and its shield was more than capable of sheering through the obstacles when it took its leave. It was a notably speedy departure, the exploration team was not even sent to investigate the wreckage strewn around the gas giant. It seemed that Starfleet wanted the Iopteryx to put as much distance as possible between it and the unfortunate starship. Maybe Novashot herself wanted to vacate the system as quickly as she could after the harrowing occurrence in the holding bay.
Phineas sat at his desk, elbows resting on it, hooves pressed against each other and his chin resting on them. He was staring blankly at the monitors which glimmered in the darkness of his quarters; with them being the only light sources in the room. He was used to sitting in the darkness with the only light coming from his flashlight. He had a purpose to stay up late then, though. He stayed up to get that last ounce of revision in then. Now, he stayed up because he could not sleep, period.
His blue eyes moved over the screen to the small digital clock tucked away at the lower right corner of it. It was tuned into the hourly rotational cycle of the Earth since before the Iopteryx left the planet and had been counting off the hours in space without fail since then. It was now 11 PM aboard the Iopteryx, though the lighting that illuminated the halls never emulated the passing of days. 11 PM, Phineas' lights were off except for his displays...and he couldn't sleep without the image of the pony beneath the sheet appearing behind his eyelids. Not that he would have fallen asleep anyway, with the anticipation of unforeseen consequences keeping him on edge constantly.
He went through the system list...again; after doing so many times over already. His eyes were beginning to redden and strain looking over the screens but he continued to do so in blatant disregard. Energy levels nominal. Airlocks were indeed locked and air-tight. Oxygen distribution systems and other life support functions were fully functional. No crippling error. No system in need of dire repairs. All was normal. This silent vigil lasted until 1 AM before he finally fell asleep at his desk.
His forelegs were crossed and his head rested on them. His eyelids twitched and his hind legs flinched and kicked when he was being sucked into a nightmare. From his mind's eye he was staring at the monitors. They were flashing red with alerts of critical damage, every system aboard ceasing function simultaneously. Shortly after, even the screens cut out, plunging Phineas into a choking darkness. He turned on his PDA's light and raced over to his supply chest, flipping up the metal lid and finding that his toolboxes were not in it.
His eyes widened and he staggered backwards away from it. There wasn't anything he could do without his tools! Without panic or getting flustered, Phineas raised his PDA to contact the other engineers, only to have it too flicker and die. The Iopteryx was unfathomably doomed and Phineas was truly powerless to do anything about it.
He fell to the floor, gasping for air when he should have had the greater part of an hour's worth of oxygen to breathe. He was grasping at his throat, unable to tell when he was going to fall unconscious and ultimately suffocate. He was already looking out into the blackest black that he would ever see, he couldn't tell if his surroundings were fading away as his life did-
The silver stallion woke with a start and shot up rigid in his chair. His vision swirled around, unfocused. Everything was a blurry mess until his eyes adjusted to wakefulness. Immediately he got to looking at the screens, confirming yet again that the ship had not experienced cataclysmic tragedy. He sighed and sat back in his chair.
"And to think I used to look for Luna in my dreams." he thought, yawning. Realizing his situation, he mused, "... And to think I used to go to bed... in my bed."
He stretched, smacked his lips and checked his PDA for any messages, finding that he had none. From its clock he found that it was 6 AM. After his fitful slumber, it was far too early to be awake. On the other hoof, he was unable and unwilling to go back to sleep.
"I can't keep on going like this... what the hell happened to that ship... and what the hell happened to that pony?" he asked himself, leaning back in his seat and putting his hooves to the side of his head, massaging his temples. "And why the hell do I feel like this ship will explode the moment I lay down my guard?"
He got out of his chair and though he was heading for the door, something made him stop and go over to the supply chest near his bed. Like in his dream, he flipped up the black and white lid and saw his tool kits exactly where he put them. They were right there inside the chest, as they always were when he was finished with them.
"Only in my dreams will I ever lose my tool kits!" Phineas said to himself with a weak chuckle and then he sighed in relief. He hastily strapped them onto his sides and he trotted out of his room into the vacant halls of the Iopteryx. He followed the orange streaked path further back to the Spell-core, finding it imperative to be at the engine room.
***
He was not alone in the engine room. Prancer was jogging around the circular chamber, keeping a close eye on the engine. The Spell-core's light cast a soft pink glow on everything as its pylons spun around it.
The red unicorn stopped mid-step and said to Phineas: "Oh, Chief... I didn't expect you to be on duty at this hour."
"I didn't expect myself to be on duty at this hour," the silver pony thought. "Don't mind me, I'm just here to do a quick look around and then I'll be on my way."
"You brought your tools for a quick look around?"
"A good engineer always has their tools," Phineas said as evenly as he could manage. Making pleasant small talk while agitated and sleep deprived was an incredibly trying task.
"Oh, and what do you like to do with your... tools?" Prancer said in a strange way.
Phineas raised a brow. "Fix things, Prancer. I like to... fix... things," he said, cocking his head when she approached him with a sway in her step. "I don't believe droids act like this..."
"This is not the time," Phineas said with a cough. "I'll just make my rounds here and then leave-"
The red mare was right in front of him, her snout to his with only inches between them. Her horn started glowing softly and he felt his toolboxes get a little lighter. He cleared his throat.
"Prancer, I hardly believe this is proper conduct among crew members!" he scolded the Unicorn.
She smiled and said: "And who's going to find out what we decided to do while we were at our lonesome? I won't tell anypony... would you?"
"Even if I was okay with this - and I'm not, mind you - I am hardly in the right state of mind to be getting... intimate," Phineas responded. "Now please return my equipment to their proper place and I will be on my way."
"I could change that... if you let me."
"I highly doubt that miss Prancer, now please-"
The impact rocked the Iopteryx, throwing both ponies to the floor with Prancer landing on top of the silver stallion. It would have been highly uncomfortable given their previous interaction if it hadn't been for the fact the ship had been struck by something incredibly massive. Something that was not only able to match velocities with a starship but actually impact with it.
Phineas' heart thumped in his chest. His fears were confirmed. Something did happen the moment he let his guard down. And the thing that had his guard lowered with a fellow engineer's advances on him. He did not know when during the week she had developed these feelings for him and at the moment, those concerns were the most trivial of trivial things.
Without bothering to dislodge the mare on top of him and getting up, he raised his PDA and yelled over the broadcast channel, "We're being assaulted! Something has hit near the engineering block and-"
The ship's hull groaned loud in protest under an immense strain. A distant grinding was hardly a good sound to hear.
"Whatever it is, it's tearing the ship apart!"
Another metallic groan and the lights in the engine room flickered, the monitors blinked and sparks jumped.
"Up! Up! Please get off of me!" Phineas shouted to the mare, who had been dazed by the abrupt event. She staggered to her hooves and when he was able to, Phineas stood as well, assisting her in steadying herself. He then looked around the Spell-core containment chamber, not needing his PDA to see that there was severe damages being sustained by the ship.
Tremors shook the craft, the fluctuations in lighting and the jumping sparks caused a spasmodic juxtaposition of light and shadow. There was no point in trying to repair anything now.
"We have to move," he said to Prancer, pointing her to the door. She had regained her senses and her other motivations had been thoroughly abandoned. She nodded and without a word she bolted for it with Phineas right behind her.
"Damn!" she cried, rearing up and slamming her front hooves against the door. "Automatic power must be shot!"
"A good engineer always has his tools!" Phineas proclaimed, craning his neck around and plucking a crowbar with gray heads and a red handle from a toolbox. He slammed one end into the seam of the door, lodging it in place then he spun and bucked it. The door, without any power to keep it locked, slid open so quickly it actually created a loud crash when it disappeared into the wall.
The silver pony picked up the crowbar and put it in the toolbox when another loud groan echoed through the ship. The sound was disturbingly close this time, banging metal ringing out somewhere unseen. Then the hull of the Iopteryx screeched loudly, pops and bangs became audible which then led into the booms of explosions as all sorts of vital machinery were torn asunder by some unseen assailant, including the thrusters.
The rear wall of the engine room caved inwards with a deafening thud.
"Run!" Phineas barked to Prancer and the mare disappeared without another word. The silver stallion stole a look at what it was that had managed to pierce the thick plated hull of the starship. Something that had a chitin of some sort with bright blue glowing lines sprawling all over it. A giant, wicked looking pincer was pulled out from the hole in the wall, the carapace overlapping at parts with intimidating spikes protruding from it.
Another giant pincer punched through the wall of the ship, then another and another. The first came down through the ceiling and Phineas saw the Spell-core containment chamber's glass crack and then shatter. The energy sphere once stabilized by the pylons became anything but stable, exploding violently and shredding the segment of the ship torn off by a gigantic alien monstrosity.
Phineas felt the air rushing past him into space and for a brief moment, he saw what was attacking the starship against the black backdrop of space. It was insectoid looking with two sets of massive scorpion-like claws. It had no other limbs but it had nodes on its side which were glowing white-hot like a star. Several other points of light decorated its hideous visage, as if the thing were a constellation in of itself. Its body was slender and ended in six tendrils which had translucent "fins" at the end, almost like a cephalopod. Hovering some distance away from its gigantic form were four ethereal blue "wings" which looked horrifically similar to Luna's own mane.
It was an Iopteryx. The celestial beast from which the starship got its namesake. It was an irony that did not escape Phineas as he fled, bulkheads with yellow and black checkerboard patterns at their edges lowering to isolate the breach...
The low frequency hum that accompanied the firing of the Iopteryx's weapons ran through the ship as the multitude of small turrets and large midway cannons undoubtedly met the monster outside with an unforgiving barrage.
"I modified those guns myself! They pack a punch that is .00390 percent stronger and the cannons can double their efficiency if given time to charge up their blasts!" Phineas thought as he ran through the hallway. It was an odd thing to cross his mind since he was running for his life, but anything was preferable to delving into spiraling madness and panic. The flickering lights and crackle of electricity were constant reminders that the ship's energy reserves were frightfully finite now that the Spell-core was gone. Backup generators and battery stores were most likely being used powering the ship's defensive systems, if not destroyed by the initial strike by the space beast.
Every so often, the ship would quake and list to either side from the blows against its metal hide but the mechanical counterpart to its cosmic enemy continued to fight even though it was crippled and at a serious disadvantage. Over the comm-link Phineas heard the others on board rallying with their fellow crewmates of their designations to get to the escape pods. Phineas checked his PDA and frowned as he saw system after system go offline or was otherwise unable to work properly. The uneven distribution of power his device conveyed to him was a sign of spell reflux, in which the improper disconnection of the Spell-core was causing the active systems to rapidly gain surges of energy -well more than they can handle at once. The fact the engine and several other integral components were destroyed only made a bad situation that much worse. Evacuation of the vessel was the only way for its crew to get out of this alive.
***
"Star Commander-!?"
"I'll do my best to keep the Iopteryx's attention. You make sure everyone else gets to those pods and disembark safely," said the unicorn to Captain Novashot. Star Commander Astartex sat at the helm of the starship, her forelegs in a rubbery sleeve connecting directly to the instrumentation panel. All around her were orange projections and holograms, the one immediately in front of her was an outline of the monstrous marauder.
"But... but!" Shirley stammered. She clearly did not want to leave her station and she certainly did not want to abandon Astartex at this time of tribulation.
"No buts!" Astartex replied, grimacing when the ship took another devastating blow thereafter. The screens arranged in a half circle around her chair became a scrambled jumble of light; shooting sparks from their paneling and having bolts of electricity jump into the air.
"We both know how this is going to end, Novashot. The best thing we can do is make it end on our terms!" she said continued through clenched jaws and gritted teeth. The guns she controlled pummeled away at the Iopteryx but the beast seemed unfazed, stabbing into the hull with one of four pincers at a time.
"I'd... I'd never forgive myself if I left you here!" Shirley exclaimed suddenly, her body trembling as she fought back her tears.
"Everyone on this ship was under your care from the beginning, Captain Novashot. I was just here to watch... and now I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you and your crew make it out alive. They will need you if they are to have any hope of getting back home," Astartex said with an eerie calm, in stark contrast to her expression which ranged from unshakable determination to excruciating pain every time the guns experienced a reflux and the uninhibited power flowed directly into her. It was amazing that her heart had not stopped.
"I... I..."
"Go; while you still can."
With a somber salute and clouded eyes, Shirley Novashot turned and ran from the bridge with the orchestra of the ship's guns firing off into space sounding off no matter where she went.
***
Phineas' PDA beeped loudly. Habitually he raised his leg to look at its green screen, resorting to an awkward three-point trot as he made his way to the nearest evac-center. There the notice flashed with big, bold red letters.
He envisioned the reinforced glass cracking with a brutal impact from the Iopteryx's giant pincer, the structural weakness spreading out from a central point like a jagged web to the outer edges of the screen, where it then shattered into huge shards, flying out into space on the herald of a transient gale. He imagined the curved decks bending further with the impossible claws tearing through the metal of the hull, the on board greenery cast out in the void, freezing and shriveling.
Phineas put his leg back down and cursed under his breath. Was it tempting fate to name a starship after a nigh mythical phantom of space? He thought back to what Amethyst told him about the emaciated pony -about what they had done in the last moments of their life.
"It was unlike anything I've heard before. What it chanted was something you'd expect to hear from a Zebra's spell book... no. That's not quite right. A Zebra's spell just sounds... different; foreign. What that pony 'said' just sounded... wrong. There were sounds that weren't like vowels or consonants... sounds that a pony shouldn't be able to make."
It was a hunch and he couldn't hope to substantiate the theory, but the suspicion that the stranger might have had something to do with this disaster was unavoidable. A part of him wanted to dismiss it, for blaming misfortune on something one didn't understand was all too easy. Another part of him knew that in the vast gulf of space, the unimaginable distances between one point and another meant odds were so incredibly high that coincidences were rarer than rare. The possibility that dark magics had summoned the horrors of space however, was not something the silver stallion took too lightly.
Another alert sounded and Phineas cursed again. Of course systems were going critical! There was nothing he could do about that! He was seconds away from shutting off the alert function when he realized just what it was that had been knocked offline. An entire line of escape pods were without power. The stallion's heart sank.
"Only one survivor."
***
The thought hit him like a ton of bricks. Suddenly his interest was not getting to his own safety. No, his priority had shifted to the wellbeing of those ponies stuck in their launch chutes or unable to get into a pod and save their lives. He wasn't sure what he could do in his current state, but anything would be better than nothing. In no time at all he had found one of the secret entrances and was rushing down the maintenance passage. It was nearly pitch black inside and Phineas' PDA light was invaluable for traversing the many intersections and access points leading to various locations.
He had to pry open another door with his crowbar to get on the afflicted evac-center. There he saw the cigar shaped vehicle half-deployed, its rear end sticking out of the tube it was supposed to blast off into space through. Phineas tapped away at the buttons on his PDA, establishing a comm-link with those inside.
"Stay calm! I'll have this sorted out in a jiffy!" he told them and immediately he got to work inspecting the launch mechanism.
"What about you!?" he heard Prancer implore amidst the voices of many others. Phineas did not reply and stopped transmitting his signal.
From his short survey, he deduced the loading unit had seized up, the struts meant to guide the pod on its exit effectively locked it in place. "Not a problem. Not a problem at all," he mumbled There weren't any terminals he could take apart or put a command into that could solve the problem. He had to deal with it manually... and it was going to be both incredibly strenuous and dangerous.
Manually disabling the guiding struts meant disconnecting them from the ship's tattered power mainframe so that the spell surges did not effect them any longer. By even attempting to do such a thing, the silver stallion risked severe electrocution and death. Fate, luck or both had been on his side however, and when the last wire had been cut, he chanced taking a breath of relief. The danger had not subsided and his life was still very much in peril, but at least he hadn't gotten himself killed yet.
Phineas grunted with the strain of having to push the pod up through the launch tunnel. He had reared up and was now forcing his front hooves against the strut connecting to the pod's left side as if it were a crank. Instead of turning though, it slowly slid up the railing it would have followed had the launch system not malfunctioned. He might have been physically adept through his time at the academy, but he still had a more than difficult time pushing the pod into launch position. He felt Amadeus would have been more able... but at the same time hoped that the minotaur was already long gone from the doomed Iopteryx.
When he had pushed the pod up a considerable distance in the chute, Phineas turned and delivered an especially powerful buck to the strut, sending it up the rest of the short way it needed to go before its thruster activated. In that time, Phineas broke into a sprint and dove out of the chute, feeling the heat of of the exhaust spew forth from behind not long after he had cleared it, the purple flames scorching the metal rim. He narrowly avoided being horrifically incinerated by the last of the ship's lifelines. His goal now was to escape death by suffocation, as in his nightmare. The secondary doors to close off the launch ports, like the bulkheads, were inactive. Now that the obstruction that was the escape pod was absent, the launch deck was quickly depressurizing.
The heat disappeared and Phineas felt a wintery nip at his cheeks, just as he felt when the engine block was destroyed. The cold kiss of space... and death. They were mutually exclusive. Before that same sensation could be felt in his lungs, Phineas darted back into the maintenance tunnel and made his way for a section of the ship that was hopefully still structurally intact. His PDA was once again invaluable, the environmental scanner making the search for a habitable haven that much easier, even if it was temporary in the end.
That habitable haven came in the form of a hallway successfully blocked off by two thick bulkheads on either end of it. Phineas forced the entrance panel open, the section of the wall identical to the rest of it, the green line that ran across it disappearing into the doorway when it had been opened fully. The pony clad in black and orange stepped out and then promptly sat on his haunches with his back bracing against the wall. The last of his life would be spent here in this hallway; with him looking out of the line of windows available to him. The screen was an uninterrupted stretch of light in an absolute darkness as stars twinkled and shined. Beautiful diamonds so far away, surrounding formations of gas and debris; the presence of which seemed so... right. They appeared to be unmoving set pieces upon the expanse of space and time and they were serene because of it. A serenity broken by the ghostly tendrils which ran past the windows, their sheer girth obscuring much of the cosmic scenery. Following them were parts of the Iopteryx that had been cleaved off, entire sections which cantered weightlessly after being tossed aside by the cosmic creature. The sight mirrored that of the gas giant's rings, except the remains of the Iopteryx would not fall into the orbit of a planet and become a mystery for the next band of Starfleet explorers. In the dark space between stars, the ruined ship was destined to drift aimlessly forever.
"You did good, Startrot. Damn good. You just saved a bunch of lives in a genuine display of selflessness... maybe they'll dedicate a memorial to you back on Earth. Maybe they'll put a medal on that memorial for good measure... they wouldn't take well to losing a pony like you!" he muttered to himself with a sense of finality.
His ears flicked under the black mat of his mane. The sound of the ship's guns... the ever present hum of its spellbound beams... they were gone. Silence took the place of the sound, disturbed only by the cries of the ship's hull. Either the power finally went out... or the one at the head of the counterattack had been bested. Either way, Phineas was not the only one to put his fellow beings above himself this day.
With a twinge of shame he looked to the floors of the once-great ship. When faced with adversity he took refuge in his pride. It always was his vice in life and it wasn't going to be any different on the threshold of his demise it seemed. It was only after the fact did he think about the ponies who escaped the wreck of his ship... and the ones that probably never made it as far as the escape pods.
He thought of his rival, friend, and acquaintances. One of them had developed romantic feelings for him over the course of a week and he was completely oblivious to it all. How he wished he could have known them better... to not walk away when they wanted to talk...
He frowned. This was no time to be feeling sorry for himself! Not after all that he just lived through! He was there to see a monster tear its way into the ship! He was on the wrong end of a spacecraft's boosters! And he survived both encounters with hardly a scratch to show for it!
He picked himself up and went through his PDA's displays. There had to be another way to get out of the wreck alive. If there was anyone - pony or otherwise - who could figure it out and pull it off, it was Startrot. Phineas Startrot, Chief Engineer; last one to depart the starship Iopteryx. He racked his brain for a solution. What other means were there for departing the ship?
"The exploration shuttles!" Phineas said breathlessly in the wake of epiphany. Of course! And with the entire aft portion of the ship missing...
"I could fly one out of here through the back end... damn, is there one still functional in the holding bay?" Phineas thought out loud, pacing a short distance about the entrance to the hidden passage. He had basic flight knowledge in thanks to his extraneous studies, flying a shuttle was not a concern of his, especially not now.
"I suppose there is only one way to find out!"
With that, the silver stallion disappeared into the corridors once again, speeding through the darkness with the aid of his light, toolboxes rattling as the tools inside jumped about in their cases. As he made his way down to the lower hold, he came across a utility closet and rummaged through its contents. He put on an air mask, the blue tinted visor large enough that his entire face was visible through it and the neck piece was ironically choking with how tight it wrapped around the pony's throat. The blue and white air tank was fairly small compared to his size and strapped onto his back with a tube feeding into the mask by a mouthpiece, as per scuba gear.
The hold was going to be devoid of oxygen and very cold. While the mask and tank solved the breathing issue, he hoped his uniform would suffice in ensuring he wouldn't cease to function due to the drastic temperature differential.
***
Another door had to be pried open when he did eventually reach the lowest level of the Iopteryx. The chill was absolute, but the skin-tight uniform and the neck-flap of the mask ensured that it was not outright crippling. Phineas couldn't stand around for long however. If the cold didn't kill him, the giant monster still ripping at the ship would. He looked around frantically, seeing overturned shuttles and shuttles crushed under the debris of the ship itself. Out of ten shuttles... only three looked like they were still in working condition.
"By the glory of the princesses!" Phineas thought, making great haste to the nearest shuttle. The craft was rounded with a blunt front end. It had small lateral wings with the boosters mounted on the ends of them and one retractable vertical stabilizer for atmospheric flight. It was white and black in color with an Equestrian Starfleet insignia on either side of its hull. He entered by crawling onto it and flipping the cockpit up, then working his way into the seat as best as he could with the air tank. He had to take it off of him without disconnecting the hose, so it simply stood upright on the floor while he strapped in.
When that was taken care of, he powered the ship up, the cockpit illuminated by the lights which came to life one by one. In the silence of space, the cockpit came down and locked into place. Holographic displays and readouts appeared on the domed screen. He felt himself warming up as temperature control and other life support systems initiated. Directly behind him, there was a supply locker.
Phineas remotely disengaged the ship's floor clamps, a puff of vapor marking the release, and then he swerved the shuttle around. With twin streaks of purple, the shuttle rocketed down the length of the Iopteryx in the wrong direction, heading towards the tail end, which was a straight exit out into the unknown...
The shuttle teetered from side to side as it soared through the mangled corridors that once comprised the starship's internal structure, dodging the debris which floated within its desecrated shell. With the failure of simulated gravity it was beyond a doubt that the Iopteryx was too far gone for anyone. It was truly lost to the clutches of space via the unreasonable aggression of a celestial titan that defied logic and comprehension.
Phineas' forelegs were in the rubbery sleeves which connected him and the small craft and allowed him to pilot the thing almost as quickly as he could think. That was due to the neuro-synchronization with the pilot as soon as he got into the seat. Together with the projections around him, Phineas was able to dodge the fragments of metal and machinery that lingered in what used to be hallways and corridors. To get such performance however, he had to stay focused on flying -on escaping alone. An errant thought and distraction could mark the difference between jetting out into the star dotted blackness or crashing horribly and adding to the floating wreckage within the destroyed starship. Any other worry, such as nourishment and extended duration of life support systems had to wait until he was far, far away from the Iopteryx, both wreck and monster alike. He would have to deal with the basics of his continued survival long past the point of no return.
Phineas was breathing hard, sweat appearing on his forehead while his gaze hardened. He stared right ahead out of the shuttle's cockpit, paying no mind to the floating cables extending from the walls, floor and ceiling that he rocketed past. It was a good thing too, for while he was shooting down the length of the starship, the decks above had started to collapse, the six tendrils of the cosmic horror wrapping around the ship in full and constricting it. The little air pockets which remained in the wreck were no more as the walls crumpled like tin cans. Entire rooms were flattened, metal beams and spanners bending with the greatest ease under the otherworldly strength of the blue terror. The topmost and bottom hull bulged inwards, as did the sides, warping the ship in seemingly impossible ways. Metal which could not bend any further broke violently, spitting sharp shards and fragments about which peppered the shuttle as it zoomed down the treacherous straight.
At such incredible speeds, impact with the tiniest stray rubble would have torn right through the shuttle, had it not been for the craft's magical shielding. Like the Iopteryx, it too had an energy barrier. Rather than being raised and maintained, it was a passive low energy system. While it protected against small particles of space debris, attempting to bust through a meteor or anything larger with it would only result in a pancaked ship and a very dead pilot. At various points of impact, red light rippled across the shuttle's hull, eventually revealing the egg-shaped forcefield that encompassed the immediate space outside of the ship's hull.
The ceiling and floors became one at tens of meters at a time; Phineas was in a literal race against time! The section of the ship that the shuttle passed through would be utterly crushed and obliterated seconds later. There was no reprieve for the silver stallion. The mental strain was almost intolerable as he had to restrain his most basic instincts and emotions. His fear was the biggest one. Fear had to be kept in check for the mind could take a rational worry and magnify it many times fold. Fear of being crushed to death in the forlorn wreck of a starship an unbelievable quantity of miles away from his homeworld was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg of things he would have to fear once he made it out alive.
And by Celestia and the sun she governed; he planned on making it out alive.
***
The shuttle shot out of the hold ahead of a cascade of wreckage, which was cast out when upper levels met the lower ones in one monumental impact. A crash with forces of such magnificent scale...that was absolutely silent. Phineas Startrot, Chief Engineer had done it. He made it out of the Iopteryx and was now shooting off into space! But this trial was not over yet. Phineas did not revel in his triumph, he only kept his concentration and wits about him, directing his ship and weaving through the obstacle course of debris which littered the former starship's vicinity. He did loops and banks and on more than one occasion flew through whole segments of hallways, the purple light of the engines shining out of the frames of shattered windows. In one dislocated passage the silver stallion thought he saw corpses of his former crewmates drifting in his peripherals and he had to do his best to keep his mind on one track. He couldn't even have spent a few seconds to assure himself he had only been seeing things. There was no time to think when going this fast, and this was no time to spare by slowing down.
The celestial beast released its quarry and floated away from the shredded remains of the starship. Its four metaphysical wings fluttered in a nonexistent wind, the hulking mass that was the will of the stars bringing its tentacles together and channeling a strange energy in the cavity they formed. It released a stream of white light from its bunched limbs, the lumbering monstrosity gaining speed gradually. Phineas and the beast appeared to be heading in completely opposite directions, following paths all their own. For the Iopteryx, what it had been called upon to eliminate was in irreparable condition. For Phineas, all that he had known and held meaning for him was another ghost to haunt the endlessness of space. For the second time in his life, he was a wayward soul. This time it seemed there was no salvation for him.
When he caught himself exactly was something he could not recall as he sat back in his seat with his legs free from the ship's interface. He had removed his air mask and breathing tank, having them off to his side and within easy reach. All Phineas knew was that after some time he felt drained and tired. He activated the ship's autopilot system when he was sure the immediate danger had blown over; its heading unknown. It simply powered on in some direction; whether it was up, down, left or right was completely arbitrary. He couldn't be bothered to care at the moment. Sleep deprived and overtaxed, his body demanded that he take a moment to simply get his bearings. He conceded, but there was little to be gained in terms of new insight. He was out of the frying pan and into the cold, black fire. He started going over what he did know.
"I am alone."
That much was obvious. In his rush to escape certain destruction it had slipped his mind that he may have been able to track down an escape pod and perhaps meet up with the other survivors, wherever it was they were. He could not be sure their situation would have been bettered in any way, but it would have been a lot more favorable for morale if he had others to be around. Even if those others would have been those he would rarely interact with normally.
As it stood however, given the vast reaches of space and the infinite nature of the universe, he was truly and irrevocably at his complete lonesome with the only friendly faces that he could imagine being parsecs away from his location at any given time. The possibility of other friendly faces not from Earth being out there was speculative thinking at best and unreasonably remote at worst. It was part of the reason why Equestria flocked to space; to answer the mystery that was the existence of intelligent life elsewhere in the cosmos -life that was not in the form of the ferocious Ursa Major and Minor, or in this case, the ravenous Iopteryx of myth and legend.
The starship Iopteryx had flown in between tens of stars in the span of a week and had passed hundreds of planets, each barren and hostile in its own unique way. Be it absent or noxious atmospheres, to unstable geological activity, the worlds beyond Earth were uninhabitable to advanced forms of life as ponykind knew it.
"I have no idea where I am."
Phineas never thought there would be a time when he would miss Lightning Streak and his skills with astronomical navigation. Then again, Phineas never thought he would have been the survivor of a vicious attack by an astral marauder. He went through the shuttle's data displays and indeed found a star map. The galaxy flickered into being in front of him, a projection comprised of soft blue light. A small region of space was contained in a rectangle, a region that was so small in comparison to the rest of the galaxy.
The projection zoomed in on this small section of the whole galactic image. A region which spanned trillions of miles, for it encompassed the known territories of the Federation. Multicolored lines showed popular routes that other ships took on their interstellar journey, the star systems they warped to to get to the next destination. The Iopteryx was in uncharted space when it was destroyed, outside of the rectangle. There was evidence that Lightning Streak was constructing a comprehensive map as the ship went along as shown by the patches of stars present in the projection and the lines which connected each shining dot, but fate would have it that his work not be completed when the starship was torn apart.
Even with a map, Phineas was still lost. While this weighed on his heart, he was determined not to let it bring about despair. He did not oppose death only to have misery in life. He had the resources and know-how to make his own star map and he was going to do just that.
"I have no idea where I am. And that will change in time."
Which brought him to his next major concern: food and water. While he was sure it was not simple malnutrition that made the pony in the pod a living skeleton, it was still a dire matter for the silver stallion. He was to survive in space for an extended period of time as he attempted to decipher the intricate geometry of the heavens to return to Earth. Time that he did not have if he did not have any means to sustain himself.
He undid the straps and got out of the chair, heading further into the shuttle. The utility closet behind the pilot's seat was interesting, but he doubted there would be food supplies stored in it. It looked very similar to the closet he got his emergency gear from. Deciding it couldn't hurt to see what was in it anyway, Phineas put his hoof to the circular plate near the middle of the locker, pressed it in and turned it. The lock released with a ratcheting noise and Phineas opened the locker to see...
An Extra Vehicular Activity suit, earth pony variant. It looked more like a suit of combat armor than any space suit, but after what he went through, he saw no difference. Space was a hostile and scary place. The helmet was -like a lot of Federation equipment- a dark gray with odd fixtures on either side of it which served as filters for toxic environments. The eye pieces reminded him of Lightning Streak's mask, the golden visors which conveyed no emotion and had a shine to them. The rest of the EVA suit had silver plating over the shoulders and a bit at the thigh armor. It came complete with a segmented metal tail sheath and a utility pack, like those the officers wore, with added booster pack functionality for speedy traveling. Which is why it having energy rifles on deployable hover platforms was not surprising. The away teams were equipped to deal with any contingency. Having weapons to defend themselves in an alien environment was a necessary evil.
Phineas frowned at the implications this brought up for his future. Would his survival coincide with violence? Would there be a time where he actually had to fight for his life?
***
The cockpit was separated from the rest of the shuttle by a single, silver, sliding door with Starfleet's symbol on it. Opening it, Phineas was treated to the sight of crew quarters meant to house one.
"Of course the shuttle I pick was the one meant for a single operator..." he muttered to himself, though it really came as no surprise. Since he entered through the craft's canopy, he knew he was commandeering one of the specialized shuttles... or rather, the last of the Iopteryx's smaller vessels.
The room was plain and utilitarian in layout. That is to say, the only thing defining it as a personnel designated room was a single cot which folded into the wall, its position marked by the text on the metal panel: RETRACTABLE BED: PULL OUT TO USE. Opposite that was something which looked like a sleep pod, but its true purpose was clearly labeled as well. SUSPENDED ANIMATION UNIT.
And just like that, the issue of his continued survival was resolved by the cold unfeeling efficiency of Equestrian engineering. Artificial hibernation with the ship providing all his body needed to keep from breaking down while he slumbered.
The corner of Phineas' mouth twitched. A suspended animation pod implied the shuttle's Spell-core engine was incapable of interstellar warping. If he were to endure a trek through the stars, he would have to be asleep in it for... decades or centuries at a time. For all the time he spent aboard, all he knew of Earth would have aged and died while he remained little changed at all; isolated by the immensity of space. It was a terrible realization. And it was his only option, for dying of malnutrition aboard the shuttle as it rocketed through the void was the alternative.
Continued study of the ship revealed that it did, in fact, possess weaponry. Startrot found general use phaser cannons stowed away in their ports near the shuttle's rear: sleek black guns longer than his body with many orifices which gave off an intense yellow glow. They resided in chutes where the innermost wall could be opened for periodic maintenance of the weapons. Phineas resisted the urge to acquaint himself with the system through his tools to see if there were improvements he could make.
It would have offered a distraction to keep his mind away from that ultimate decision he had to make: trusting his life in full to a machine, a machine which was advanced enough to use its own armaments for the sake of self preservation where its passenger was unable to do just that. As frightening as it was, it was far better than wasting away helplessly. With great trepidation, Phineas returned to the cockpit one last time. There, he brought up the ship's overarching commands, the projected list flickering into his vision.
Avoid confrontation.
Awaken pilot upon detection of anomalies.
He shook his head and wiped tears from his eyes. So this was what all of his efforts led to: his relinquishing of his life to an automaton to wander space for an unholy amount of time, alone and facing mind-rending perils. With one final farewell to those he knew and those lost, he said:
"Some things are better left behind and forgotten."
He took off his PDA and toolboxes and put them in the utility closet with the space suit. Afterwards, he made his way back through that door and stopped at the stasis pod. With one last deep breath, he flipped its curved screen up and crawled in, laying on his back inside it. It was like a very comfortable bed that adapted to every contour of his body. Inside there was a panel.
"Initiate Sleep System," the silver stallion read, then pressed his hoof to it. The panel disappeared underneath folding metal and he felt himself enveloped with a tingling sensation. His body was completely frozen and a blinding white light crept forth from the corners of his eyes.
It was the early hours of a most fateful day when Phineas stood before the imposing building, grand in design and meaning. The beginning of a long and brutal road to becoming fit to count himself among heroes and legends was the Manehattan Starfleet Registration Hub. It was a giant domed building, its entrances marked by marble stairs and pillars. Engraved into the triangular buttresses which projected over them, lined with gold, were the sun and moon, encircled by an embossed ring in the stone. Such buildings stood out when the architecture of Equestrian cities was dominated by spires of concrete, glass and steel, metropolises reaching for the heavens that mocked the stars at night with their innumerable street lamps and other light sources.
There was a certain charm to these dated structures, holdovers from an age passed which humbled all that would climb their steps and pass through their doors. Phineas felt the place had an inherent call for respect, as if it possessed the regality of the princesses. He made his way up the stairs holding his head high, puffing his chest out and smiling a winning smile. He was to be confident; not arrogant.
In spite of his stature, what he had with him conveyed a life of hardship for the silver stallion. Phineas did not have any formal attire on his person as he approached the huge doors of the grand structure; while most of the Manehattan ponies that walked down the sidewalks around the building had their flashy suits of various colors and designs. All of the things he had with him since he got off the train from Ponyville were in a small brown leather satchel that had a dinged black buckle to keep it shut; in contrast to the fancy saddlebags and hovering containers other travelers had with them departing the Manehattan station. He was ungroomed, his mane pointing every which way, his tail frayed at the edges.
"Let them see you for who you are, not what you look like. Otherwise there is no point to this," he reminded himself. He nodded politely to the two guardsponies stationed on either side of the double doors of a rich reddish brown color and decorated with intricate etchings in the wood. Their entire bodies were in black one-piece suits, golden chest plates and horseshoes decorated them. Ornate helmets adorned their heads.
In return, the guards regarded him with leveled looks with only the slightest signs that they were silently judging the newcomer. A slightly arched brow, the beginnings of a scowl; Phineas simply maintained his pleasant visage while hiding his inner resentment.
"Don't let them see your hatred. It only provokes them."
He knew they did not think much of him. He knew they expected him to be turned away, to return to the social trench from whence he crawled from. After all, how could a common, destitute pony ever hope to find a place in Equestria's most demanding effort -an effort where hundreds of aspiring space travelers were denied on a daily basis?
***
Various papers and cards confirming the silver stallion's identity were presented before a donkey sitting behind a terminal. They were laid out on the desk, some of the papers badly wrinkled and bearing sloppy fold lines. The donkey looked up at the stallion every so often with that same judging look on their face, but they never said anything. They all took refuge in their silence, and it was beginning to eat away at Phineas' patience.
"Go ahead and say it," Phineas thought bitterly underneath his outward ruse, which he still put forth for all to see. "I already know that I'm a poor vagrant without a pinch of salt to call my own. I already know that I look like a piece of garbage that got out of the gutter and dragged its way here. I already know that I've been abandoned with only myself to depend on. But clearly you think I need to be reminded."
There was nothing to betray this inner anger Startrot concealed. He just had this air about him, a vibe of calm contentedness; as if he were on top of the world though he was very much far from it. It was something the donkey in their Federation robe found most peculiar.
"Are you not a bit... young... to be considering joining Starfleet, Mr.Startrot?" the donkey asked.
"I've already completed my years of primary education. Starfleet academy offers more to be studied," Phineas replied evenly. "Even if I don't make the cut, I'd have still learned some things and I'd have the life experience and all. Besides, I've already spent my bits getting to this place, I might as well be proactive and take advantage of the free national program going on!"
"It may be free-" the donkey began to say, but Phineas was quick to cut them off.
"But it isn't in any way easy. I know. I'm not looking for the easy way out; I'm looking for something worthwhile. Something that will end up making me a better pony in the end, for better or worse. A stallion in my position has nothing else to live for without a challenge to confront... and the academy is mine. I'd consider being a janitor or a third class crewpony an achievement if it's Federation-official," said Phineas.
This was before he had developed his competitive fervor and drive to fulfill his dream. After Star Commander Astartex's address to the Manehattan cadets, no longer was Startrot satisfied with striving for the minimum. He was to be the best there was, no longer admiring the heavens from atop a hill, but piloting his own ship through the cosmos with his own band of intrepid explorers under his authority.
Fate hardly abides by one's aspirations.
***
When the wires crossed, the synapses in his brain fired up once more and his heart started beating. The first thing he perceived was that blinding light fading away. The fog in his mind gave way to the screen of the stasis pod and the panel he pressed to freeze him in time.
Waking up left Phineas somewhat groggy. It took a little more than a minute for him to register that the panel had data on its display. His vital signs were listed in a stack with his heartbeat represented by the green line running across the right side of the panel, spiking and dipping with a regular rhythm. He was in pristine condition, better than when he entered the pod even. When his head got up to speed, he felt amazing. He felt refreshed, rejuvenated. He felt...
"Alive! I'm alive!" the silver pony thought with an ecstatic grin on his face. The joy of revival -the joy of survival- it almost made him tear up then and there. He remembered that gripping fear of impending doom full well when he lost himself in full to the shuttle...and here he was now! Alive and well!
He tapped the panel for more information. Just why had he been awoken? Did the shuttle come across a Federation signal? Something that could be traced to another starship; perhaps even Earth itself? The prospect filled him with such a surge of hope that the revelation was utterly crushing, like the choking coils of an Iopteryx's tendrils.
STASIS-SLEEP DURATION: 378 YEARS, the bold green proclamation stretched across the entire panel. His mouth was agape.
"I've been asleep for almost four centuries!?" Phineas exclaimed in disbelief. He looked away, staring blankly through the pod's window at the room's ceiling. This was not something he did not expect. He knew that by going into stasis, he would end up transcending mortality itself as years passed without himself aging at all. It was one thing to note the possibility mentally and it was another thing entirely to actually experience it. His mind reeled at the consequences of this.
378 years of history... and he was completely ignorant to it all, lost in the black void. He cringed. This was not productive thinking. This was the thinking a pony did when they were being overwhelmed. Phineas was not that kind of pony. He did his utmost to make sure of that.
"378 years or 378,000 years, I'm here. I have been taken out of stasis, it is time to find out why."
He pushed the screen up, a hiss of air accompanying its opening. Plates of metal popped up from the pod as he sat up, puffs of vapor expelled from it before the plates returned to their positions. Phineas' bones cracked as he climbed out of the pod and once he had stretched out, he closed it. He walked over to he cockpit door which slid open as it had done more than three centuries prior. The cockpit's projections and displays came to life with his presence at the helm.
Anomaly detected: Unknown reading was clearly visible amidst the orange glow. Phineas strapped into his seat and put his forelegs in the neuro-link sleeves. He went through his systems list first and foremost to make sure everything worked as they were meant to after nearly four centuries without proper inspection. Everything was nominal in condition...but the thrusters and phaser cannons were deactivated. Remotely deactivated.
Something had incapacitated the shuttle.
In an instant, Phineas' mindset shifted entirely. He was primed to defend himself against this enemy unknown. He did not wake up from his induced slumber just to die by some other means. He would not allow himself such indignity!
He brought up a projection of the offending... object... which was responsible for deactivating the systems and subsequently ending his stasis. It looked vaguely like a dragonfly with a bulbous front end and long, sleek blocky body that had two large radial thrusters on either side near the midsection. The aft was L shaped with the longer part of it pointing forward on the underside. Windows lined the hull of the alien craft and various pointed instruments jutted from it. They looked like antenna but Phineas could not be certain.
"That is not a Federation craft..." Phineas muttered. "It can't be... something else, can it?" he asked himself. It was too astounding to seriously think he had been discovered by space faring aliens, but there was no denying it. The shuttle would have recognized another Starfleet vessel. There would have been attempts to hail him instead of disabling his offensive and evasive systems.
Phineas had to avert his eyes from the forward window as bright light streamed in through it. Covering his eyes with a hoof, he stole a glance at the ship's readouts. Its speed had been dampened substantially by a retrieval beam from the alien craft. The stallion cursed under his breath, the memories flashing before his eyes. It was all so uncannily similar to that escape pod, yet it had its definitive differences. A lone craft coasting through space with weaponry aboard drawing the attention of some form of intelligent life from somewhere amidst the stars, they pursue to investigate, finding that its lone passenger was the survivor of an interstellar disaster that took place hundreds of years prior. What happens next, Phineas did not know.
But he was going to be prepared.
***
He slammed the locker door shut. The only thing that was inside was his PDA. In no time the armored space suit that was stowed away was now upon his body, covering his features in metal. It was not heavy in the least to wear, even the booster/weapons platform he wore on his back. A magical HUD interface appeared before his eyes, various bits of information such as atmospheric scans and other data his PDA would have supplied him displayed in his field of vision. In addition to this augmented reality, the helmet adapted to all levels of lighting, able to make pitch dark environments look like a bright sunny day complete with full color.
Phineas flicked his metal coated tail and with an energetic burst of light and sound, a red, broad beam of energy extended from the end, stopping when it was four feet in length. Its outline was white hot, making the air around it ripple. He retracted the energy blade, then tested the weapon platform.
From either side of the pack with rapid flipping of metal plates, two hover disk platforms shot out, the guns mounted upon them unfolding with clicks and snaps until the thin barrels of plasma rifles were fully extended. On his HUD, a reticule appeared for aiming purposes.
Phineas took a deep breath and then recalled the guns, the weapons folding up and the disks flying back into their places within the armor's pack. He would rather not have to use these tools of murder, even for self defense... but space had already proven itself to be a hostile place. He did not imagine it changing much over the course of three centuries, when it was trillions of years old.
What did change was the fact Phineas could definitively answer an age-old question of Equestria: there was life elsewhere in the galaxy...
Phineas was a statue sitting at the edge of his seat. The utility pack made it an uncomfortable position to stay in, meaning the stallion was ready to spring into action at the first sign of trouble. His helmet adjusted to the bright beam drawing the shuttle into an awaiting cargo hold -or what Phineas assumed to be a cargo hold, that is. It was located near the rear of the ship, at the end of the long span that was underneath the main portion of the alien craft. He began thinking of reasons why an alien craft would bother salvaging a renegade shuttle, but found it easier to think of reasons to the opposite. What kind of intelligent creature would come across something unknown and not investigate it?
Staring through the cockpit screen, Phineas could see that the hold was filled with humungous crates and machinery already. Federation freighter ships and ships fitting the general role of haulers had holds that were almost always completely stocked. Phineas took some comfort in this observation. An alien transport ship was a less intimidating prospect than an alien warship; but even Federation ships, subsidiary craft and officers were armed with weapons. While it was not meant for combat, there was nothing stopping the vessel and its crew from being aggressive and dangerous, with technology vastly superior to his centuries old equipment.
Phineas started to chuckle lowly as the craft grew ever nearer to the expansive chamber. One of the reasons the aliens took an interest in the shuttle could full well be its dated design and technology. A relic they found drifting in space, seemingly abandoned, the automation left to fend for itself.
"Won't they be surprised to meet me..."
That much he could be assured of. How would he be able to explain himself? To communicate at all with beings distant in time as they were in space? Underneath the inexpressive visage of his helmet he frowned. To start a conflict due to misunderstandings and miscommunication would be a tragedy. One that could end up costing him his life after all he had done to preserve it.
The shuttle was maneuvered over to a vacant part of the cargo hold and set down with the greatest of care. It was now that Phineas' heart started to thud in his chest. He was in the belly of the metaphorical beast with not even the tiniest inkling of how to proceed. Though he could not see or hear it, he was certain the only way out was already sealing itself.
"Keep it together. Keep it together." It was getting increasingly difficult to keep a level head. "You can get through this, Startrot. Just. Keep it. Together."
He saw the huge blast door several yards ahead open, rising up into the dull brown wall. From the entrance he saw the five figures endowed in some inky-looking clothing float out, the yellow lighting inside the containment chamber becoming runny when it hit the sleek material, as their suits were perpetually moist. They were similarly sized to a pony but they had no visible limbs. Instead they each had a set of four mechanical tentacles that were integrated into their suits, which ended in some kind of lens which glowed bright cyan. While their bodies were different, their heads encased in helmets with visors wrapping around their faces were undeniably equine in shape.
Phineas was as unsettled by the sight as he was intrigued. By what improbability would he come across things so drastically different to himself, yet share a similar feature? To represent this most unlikely event numerically; with the stallion's 378 years of stasis and the plethora of distances across space the shuttle covered in that time taken into account, the odds of such a thing occurring would be astronomically high. In spite of this however, he was looking out of the shuttle at alien...ponies?
"There are no such things as coincidences..." he muttered to himself.
Would they regard him with the same shock and disbelief?
***
The screen of the cockpit's canopy unlocked with a loud hiss of air and raised with a low droning. This clearly alarmed the alien beings, whose tentacles deployed some form of energy weapon. Three prongs popped up into place around the blue lens and began channeling an orb in the space between them, like a Spell-core's stabilizing pylons except these did not spin. They were all pointed at the craft, but they did not fire upon what was embarking from it.
On both sides of the cockpit a ladder extended and Phineas climbed out of the right side, dropping onto the floor when he was at the last few rungs. His blank golden stare was directed towards the group of five, and they stared back at him through the screens on their helmets. It occurred to Phineas that this was probably how the scene in the hold of the Iopteryx played out...except he wasn't a horribly misshapen pony. He was just an alien in a suit of armor.
Atmospheric scans showed the environment in the hold was suitable to breathe without a helmet, but Phineas did not take it off. It was currently the thing keeping this unspoken interaction...sterile. He was not exposing the ship to his microbes and he wasn't being affected by the aliens'. Contamination and cross-species ailments was something Starfleet took many precautions to prevent in the case of discovering extraterrestrial life. Startrot's diligent study paid off once again.
After some time of this staring, one of the alien equines was bold enough to approach Phineas. It was slow and cautious, like how one would approach a wild animal. No sudden moves. Nothing to startle it. The weapons were still trained him through, three from the alien hovering over and all four from the others that stayed behind. The one grasper that was not channeling an energy orb had retrieved some kind of advanced looking piece of machinery. It was almost as small as a PDA and was similar in shape as well. It was black and had many small lights, but no buttons or displays.
The alien came to a stop a few feet away from Phineas and extended the tentacle, presenting him with the device. He looked down at the tiny thing then back up at the aliens. Their visors were transfixed on every small movement he made. Tentatively, he reached out with his hoof and the aliens all started nodding, encouraging him as if he were about to do something monumental. And he probably was -he had already found that they shared the same gestures as ponies on Earth.
He took the device and inspected it for a second or two before looking up at his cosmic acquaintances. The leading one which gave him it gestured to their chest. Phineas was confused as to what purpose placing the item on his chest would serve but complied nonetheless. He put it to his chest and, to his surprise, it had stuck there.
"Shoo bee doo and hello stranger," the leading alien said to him, their voice having an otherworldly warbling quality to it, as if they were speaking to him from underwater. The voice had all of the audio cues of a female...but Phineas did not draw conclusions. He was dealing with an alien. The rules of their evolution might have been different on their world than they were on Earth.
"I can... understand you..." Phineas replied, masking his great surprise.
"The device upon your chest is a Universal Translator. I had a feeling you would need to be given one," the alien replied. The stallion was impressed. A Universal Translator? Did this mean he would be able to speak with others from across the star systems? Such a device would have been paramount in bringing other lifeforms together!
"Did you recognize this class ship by any chance?" Phineas inquired, gesturing to the shuttle. If the alien said yes then it meant it knew of Federation ships. And not just know of them, for the shuttle was centuries old. Surely there would have been newer models and types since then, but for the alien to recognize such an obsolete ship their expertise on the Federation had to be commendable, and their ability to divine that if a pony was indeed on board, they would be ages old, was remarkable.
"I did," the alien replied. Phineas' heart soared. "I found it quite odd that a ship from the height of the Equestrian Starfleet Federation would still remain so long after the destruction of Earth."
And then his heart plummeted to the very lowest point of his chest cavity. "Destroyed!?" he exclaimed. "Explain!" Phineas implored.
The alien looked down at the floor of the hold, their voice sounding apologetic. "I should have been more considerate with my words... it will be... things... have changed quite considerably since your time-"
"Please," Phineas growled. He was gritting his teeth, but tried his damnedest to stay civil. "Tell me what has happened to Earth and the Federation. I have been asleep for 378 years. I need to know this."
"... Very well," said the alien. "The details are scarce... but a few of the Equestrian fringe worlds agree that it was 500 years after the first of the Federation's ships first ventured into the stars from your planet. Others disagree or have no records of the event to speak of. Ships came across... something. An Evil. No one knows if it was another race gone from the present or some kind of Star Terror... but upon its discovery it was said the Evil sought out the Federation ships and eventually... it found Earth... and... well..."
Phineas was utterly stunned. His legs gave out from underneath him and he fell onto his haunches.
"Earth is gone."
"If you don't wish to hear more-"
"Continue," Phineas interjected. "... Please do. You mentioned fringe worlds?"
"Some of your people were able to escape the fate of their world. They fled to the stars to start again elsewhere... many did not make it to new homes... but those who did would make themselves known to the rest of the galaxy. In time, races from the outer arms and deep space were flocking to the territories once held by the Federation. We are the Shu'badi, but we are commonly known as 'Seaponies'. My name is Gaali Tuu," said the sea pony.
"... Phineas. Phineas Startrot... former Chief Engineer of the starship Iopteryx," the armor clad stallion replied, downtrodden.
Gaali nodded to him. "Shoo bee doo, Startrot. You are welcome to stay here with my comrades and I. We understand that you... will need some time..."
"What of the princesses? Celestia and Luna? Why couldn't they stop it? How could the Earth have fallen and Equestria scattered so!?" Phineas blurted out suddenly. His voice was disjointed by his tears unseen.
"I... am sorry. Like I said, knowledge of the incident has been lost to time. There are many stories... what I have told you was simply the collection of facts - if not shared tales accepted as truth - I was able to gather across fringe worlds in my time of travel." Gaali replied.
"... I-I... I think I need to be alone, Gaali," Phineas said, shakily getting to his hooves. "I will... return to my shuttle to... come to terms with this knowledge."
"Of course. I will explain this all to my comrades and register your presence to the security system. We will see you when you are ready to be seen." said the Seapony, who then bowed her head to the stallion in the armor.
Phineas was quick to make his retreat into the shuttle, climbing the ladder he came down on and bringing the canopy down. He removed the space suit, his initial fear gone and replaced with a crushing depression. Everything he had known was truly gone...and there was nothing new for him to find on Earth, even if he were to go back.
He laid on the cot, his head resting on the small tubular cushion that protruded from the otherwise flat mattress which was supposed to be a pillow. He was on his side, facing the wall. The light in the room was dimmed down to near darkness.
This future was terrible. He felt as if he should have remained on the Iopteryx when it met its doom. It would have spared him the pain he now felt, a pony out of place and out of time. A pony who was better off dead, his efforts rendered moot and meaningless.
These were the thoughts of a pony overwhelmed. And Phineas did not care.
Phineas looked around frantically. Lights flickered. Shadows were strange and ominous. Shrieks and screams echoed throughout the ship. He panted, his breath visible in the air, his body gripped by an unnatural frost. He heard whispers all around him. They grew ever louder and louder until finally they too became screams and cries. Phineas started to run, distant explosions making powerful thuds elsewhere in the Iopteryx.
He passed bodies on the floor, impaled by support beams and sliced by jagged sheets of metal. Their eyes stared off into the blue, their mouths hanging limp, blood matting their fur. The blood strewn across the hallways painted streaks and splotches of red. Phineas gasped but pressed on, running not to a destination, but running for the sake of running. He ran because there was nothing else for him to do. His hooves thumped against the flooring as he went.
The ghostly wailing of grinding metal gnawed at his eardrums. The corridor he charged down grew impossibly long as he stared down its length. Features on the walls distorted, stretched out and unrecognizable. An acrid scent filled the air and his throat. Without warning Phineas found himself choking on the overwhelming stench of blood. He swayed from side to side, getting dizzy, then he fell to his knees, gasping. His eyes were clenched shut. When he opened them again, his blue pupils were small as needle tips in a sea of white. And they were affixed on the floor seeping blood, flooding. Phineas -hacking and coughing- raised his front hooves to see the dark liquid running off of them.
"You could have saved us!" he heard many voices say in unison. The crew of the Iopteryx... and others. Random voices that he had heard over his life, a mare he might have overheard one day walking down the street. A stallion he might have asked for directions. A filly and colt that he might have given advice to. Countless others.
"No... no! I refuse to have your blood be on my hooves! I could have done nothing-!" Phineas shot back with water in his eyes before having another coughing fit. It was unclear if he was tearing up from his soaring emotions or the choking odor.
"You slept as we died!"
"I had no choice!"
"You should have died with us!"
The elongated hallway bent upwards into an arc. Phineas was swept down it in a morbid torrent, fighting to keep his head above the blood which stained his silver coat. He saw the walls fail and the glowing blueness that was the celestial pincer slicing through the hallway. The screeching of bending support columns and struts was deafening.
The crimson current was then nullified by weightlessness. Large globs of blood undulated as they drifted forth with tiny droplets trailing them. Phineas was groping at his neck. No air. He was suffocating. The dreamscape starship fell apart around him and Phineas was cast into space. There, small, alone and exposed, he looked up at the Iopteryx. It was many hundred times his size. He could practically feel the might and majesty of the celestial terror radiating like the light from the many bright points dotting its body.
Its movement was of indescribable grace and unbridled horror. It was not any lumbering monstrosity in spite of its great mass. It turned its body about towards the pony, and though it had no eyes or face to speak of, Phineas felt as if he were being torn apart in a gaze of torment. As if the monster from beyond the stars was staring into the deepest depths of his being and was eroding away the layers around it with every passing second. He felt as if his soul was being molded to the whims of the Star Terror.
"Never... safe..." the monster spoke. Phineas was paralyzed with fear. Its voice was... wrong. It was a legion of voices speaking as one but not in synchronous. The sounds blended together, languages of completely alien tongue being shaped into comprehensive speech, a disconcerting blend that instilled the most primal of fears in the silver stallion. The sensation of suffocation was no more. There was only fright.
His gaze was then forced down by an influence he could not resist. His hooves were pried from his throat so that he could look at them. His forelegs were impossibly thin. His flesh was aged to the point of rotting, devoid of fur.
"You will die with us," he heard the voice of Amethyst Shine say.
***
Phineas jolted up into sitting on his cot with the lights in the room slowly brightening. He was gasping for air and feeling unending relief that he was able to do just that. Phineas felt his face and body as he panted, reaffirming his grip on reality. He was all there. He looked at his hooves and found them to be blood-free. He was okay, he was safe in his bed. This was not the Iopteryx. There were no haunting voices beckoning his demise.
He fell back into the cot, the back of his head hitting the pillow. He was still pulling in breaths when he laid a hoof over his chest and felt his heart thumping away inside. He had been writhing in a cold sweat in his sleep. The first natural sleep Phineas had in over three centuries came so soon after his awakening and brought with it a most disturbing nightmare.
"Post traumatic stress, punctuated with stasis sleep and compounded by emotional instability," Phineas told himself once he was breathing at a more regular rate. "This was to be expected..."
He ran a foreleg over his eyes to rid them of the moisture that was there. He could explain it way all he wanted with various theories as to what brought about the unpleasantness, but that did not change the fact he dreamed the things he did. From ponies from a past life demanding his death to the Star Terror, it was more than evident that something was not quite right with Phineas' subconscious mind.
"I didn't abandon them, I did everything I could have done to help in any way when the Iopteryx was being destroyed," he thought, staring up at the paneled ceiling. "So why do I feel... guilt... for living when so many have perished?"
He rolled off of the bed and bucked it back up and into the wall.
"I am Phineas Startrot, damn it!" he snarled, angry at himself for this sudden dip in spirit. How could he have fallen like this after facing the obstacles he had faced? He was a pony disowned and left to the claws of the world but he had fought the adversity and he won. He was in the grip of a peril greater than anything he knew and lived.
"I am better than this! I don't feel sorry for myself! I don't pity others!" he went on to say, heading for the cockpit door. "Three hundred years or no; that does not change!"
He put on his spacesuit. On his right foreleg, wrapped around the gray armor was his PDA and strapped to his flanks were his toolboxes. A good engineer always had their tools. The canopy went up and Phineas went down the ladder. He walked across the hold to the giant door. A panel on the wall blinked several times and he waited as it raised up. He felt the rumble of machinery which controlled the hulking metal slab.
The walls of the hallways beyond the cargo hold were black. Yellow lights lined the floor and the seams in the metal plating also emitted a faint yellow light.
"Well this will be fun," the silver stallion thought.
Fun indeed, for he found navigating the unfamiliar and downright alien layout of the Shu'badi ship exceedingly difficult. There were no strips of colors denoting which hallways led to which part of the ship, so Phineas was walking through a maze.
"Ugh, I really should have thought this through..." he mumbled. He raised his PDA light up to a wall terminal. Its screen was a shimmering blue and its text were symbols he rightfully did not understand. However, the device on his chest piece was readily compensating; the screen flashing once and in an instant the interface was completely altered. The symbols were replaced with letters in which Phineas could read.
He looked down at the thing, smiling underneath his helmet. The future was not all bad...all things considered. If this small electronic was anything to go by, he was living in a galaxy many times more advanced than the Earth he knew. "Amazing piece of technology, this is!"
While marveling at the invaluable usefulness of the Universal Translator, Phineas went through the terminal database, finding in-depth blueprints which he desperately wanted on his PDA. Sadly, a gap of 378 years and incompatible technology made that impossible.
"I don't suppose you serve as an information dump too, huh?" he joked, then realized he was talking to a machine. Before he could question his sanity extensively, the voice of Gaali reached him.
"There you are!"
Startled, he looked over to where she was at the start of the hallway. "Oh, you were looking for me..." he said.
"Of course we were! We were looking for you since we detected the hold's door opening. Why didn't you wait for one of us to get you? You didn't think you'd just instantly know how to get around the ship, did you?"
"I'm... not in the most logical state of mind right now."
"Clearly you aren't. If you didn't get the idea of using the Translator on that terminal we would still be looking for you!"
"I suppose that means I'm not too far gone," he said then chuckled afterwards.
"Startrot... I don't believe this is a mater to joke about. You might need some mental evaluations to make sure you still have all your faculties after your stasis..." Gaali said with some concern in her voice.
Phineas mulled this over. "I... would have to disagree. My shuttle would have informed me if something had gone awry; I was only a bit... impulsive when I left it."
"Uh... huh," Gaali said flatly. With her visor covering her features, Phineas didn't know what to make of her reaction. "Well you seem to be in a better state of mind now than you were a few hours before... what are those things you have on you if I may ask?"
Phineas looked down at the PDA and at the toolboxes. "These? These were my best friends 378 years ago!"
"Are you certain that you do not need mental evaluating?"
"No I mean, they were what I depended on to do my job. As Chief Engineer it was my job to make sure the ship I was on was in top notch condition and well... I always had my tools and PDA with me."
"So why do you have them now?" Gaali queried.
"Well... I was hoping that I could join your crew, take up my old role as an engineer. Granted... it'll take some study before I can properly tinker with anything on board but I'm good at learning and applying myself." Phineas offered.
"You... want to join..." said Gaali slowly, ruminating on the words as if to glean some bit of extra knowledge from doing so.
"Well, you and your friends pulling my shuttle in was the reason I woke up from stasis in the first place. Now that I'm here I might as well do something worthwhile. I'm a pony living in the future on an alien spacecraft... I might as well start learning how things work nowadays."
"I see..." Gaali replied thoughtfully. "I suppose I can have you apprentice with our current mechanic, Tsubar. Know that our technology might... will be vastly different to what you might have worked with."
"Does this ship use some form of Spell-core engine?" Phineas asked.
"Well... yes. Most ships use Spell-cores or Spell-matrixes in some way or another." Gaali answered.
"Then I'll manage. Do you think Tsubar can make this work with the ship?" the silver stallion went on to ask, holding his PDA up.
After a thoughtful hum, Gaali replied: "He might be able to... something tells me he would be more inclined to take it apart and rebuild it though."
Phineas smirked underneath his helmet. "I think I'll like this Tsubar guy..."
And so, Phineas walked beside Gaali, who was leading him through the ship's many hallways. The yellow glow from the intricate network of alien workings ran across both their forms; with Phineas' suit gleaming and Gaali's warping the glow around her in a mystifying way. After their initial encounter, things had died down between them. An awkward silence fell as the two equines walked down the passageways. Observing the fine details of the paneling and the various terminals and screens he passed only kept Phineas occupied for so long.
He cleared his throat, the sound turned gruff by the helmet. It made Gaali look over to him suddenly, head cocked. "Are you alright?" she asked.
"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine. Well... a bit curious, if being curious is enough to make somepony not alright," Phineas replied. "Like, what is this ship? Who are you really, and what do you do?"
"The ship is called the Desolus, after a Shu'badi legend."
"Legend wasn't about any space creatures, right?" Phineas asked offhoofedly.
He really wanted to see her underneath her own mask. It was hard to converse with the Seapony when he couldn't see her reactions to the things he said.
"... No." she replied after a pause, most likely her contemplating Phineas' motives for asking her such a thing. "Why?"
"No particular reason," Phineas lied.
"Hmm. Well, as you probably guessed, the ship's primary business is transport and commerce. We - that is myself and the others - cover a sector of fringe worlds which we act as liaisons to. We deliver whatever they may need whenever they need it."
"Which is where you picked up your knowledge of Earth?" the silver stallion asked.
Gaali confirmed this with a nod and said: "I truly am sorry... I can't imagine what grief you must have felt."
"Don't... worry about it. It must've happened long before you were born."
"Actually, the Shu'badi have lifespans measuring in centuries to millennia, depending on what standard of time you base your judgement on." Gaali corrected Phineas tactfully.
"... Holy shit," he thought. "So... you were alive when Earth...?"
"Alive, yes. But as I told you already, the region of space your people explored was one sparse of interests for the other space faring races and rife with dangers for those who ventured into it. It was only after the fall of your world did your people's plight become known to us."
"I see..." said Phineas. Apparently, things like the Star Terrors were well known elsewhere in the galaxy. Earth happened to be in a cosmic hotspot full of them and who know what other dangers. "So you are... how old?" he went on to ask.
"478 years old."
"Ah ha..." Phineas mused. "So you would have been... one hundred when the Iopteryx went on its voyage... wow. What is your role on this ship? The Desolus?"
"Whatever it is that I am needed to do at any given time," Gaali replied simply.
"Really? There aren't any designations? No assigned ranks or anything on board?" Phineas inquired, cocking his head. What a strange system!
"I am aware such a thing might be a strange concept to you, if what I have gathered on old Federation practices have any merit. Aboard the Desolus, however, there are only five of us currently. We cannot rigidly assign duties and carry them out. Tsubar needs to be able to pilot when the captain is not available and the captain needs to be able to make repairs when repairs are needed," Gaali explained to the silver stallion.
"Absolutely fascinating!" Phineas replied. "You mean there could be a chance of me flying this ship in somepony else's place?"
Gaali made a strange noise. It sounded similar to a chuckle with that aquatic edge to it. "One thing at a time, Startrot."
"Right, right. So you all share responsibilities... but you still have usual parts to play. For example, Tsubar is your mechanic. And you said one of you is the regular captain..." Phineas replied, beginning to piece things together.
"Tsubar is our mechanic, Romaz is our captain, Uolix is our cook, Javic is our self-defense technician and I monitor our scanners for things that might be of worth...or might want to blow us up."
Phineas ran what he was told through his head. After a moment of thought he said: "So, if I want to be the sixth to your band of five, I've got a lot of things to learn, huh?"
Gaali nodded. "I'm sure everyone will be more than willing to show you the ropes once I break the news to them!"
"I can only hope so..." Phineas replied.
"Until then," Gaali said, reaching out with her tentacles to tap away at a wall panel. After typing in a command a nearby door opened with a short hum, splitting down a diagonal which ran across it. "Tsubar will be your teacher."
She floated through the doorway with Phineas in tow.
***
The engineering deck of the Desolus had a distinct red glow about it opposed to the yellow of the hallway. Piping and instrumentation panels were abound, as if Phineas were following Gaali through a maintenance tunnel on the Iopteryx. Instead of small passages though, this part of the ship was expansive. Advanced and alien contraptions were built into the walls, screens and holograms streaming vast amounts of data in the form of alien symbols and numerals.
At a huge workstation at the center of the chamber, a single Seapony toiled away. There was a loud crackling, a tentacle acting as a welding torch upon some futuristic gizmo that Phineas could only guess its function. It appeared to be some kind of large capsule made from some foreign alloy.
"Tsubar!" Gaali called out and the other Seapony shut off the searing white-blue beam. The crackling fell quiet and the dancing light disappeared, the redness of the chamber becoming absolute.
"What is it?" the mechanic replied, his voice far deeper than Gaali's but shared the echoing trait which Phineas found so odd about the aliens.
"You already know of our guest, but what you don't know is that he has volunteered to become part of our crew!"
Tsubar turned his visor from Gaali to Phineas then back to Gaali. "Are you sure he's ready?"
"He wishes to prove himself. I am willing to give him the opportunity to do so."
Tsubar grunted. "So why bring him to me?" he asked.
Gesturing to Phineas with a tentacle, Gaali answered with: "Because he was the Chief Engineer of his vessel before whatever misfortune brought about its end. He wants to take up a similar job here, but to do that he needs to learn about our technology and how everything on this ship works. Who of us is more qualified to educate Startrot than you?"
Meanwhile, Phineas stood there awkwardly looking in between the two aliens as Gaali made her case for him. He felt very odd that he wasn't the one making the proposal, but he trusted Gaali would have had a better way to ask for Tsubar's tutelage.
Tsubar stared long and hard at Phineas. Or, rather it appeared that he was doing that. It was fully possible that he was looking at anything but the pony in the spacesuit.
"What's in the cases?" the mechanic asked.
"My equipment," Phineas replied. He took off his toolboxes and laid them down on the floor. He opened them to reveal the wide array of tools all stored neatly in sets upon tiers.
Tsubar started laughing, which sounded like he was gurgling. "Oh you poor, unfortunate creature," he said, splaying his tentacles apart. In an instant the mechanic's own collection of tools were revealed amidst a flurry of moving metal. So different was their design that Phineas couldn't even guess which tools did what, except for the ones which were explicitly fitted with focusing lenses and coils. He was able to divine that they were some kind of laser tool... if not weapons entirely.
"It looks like I'll have to upgrade your arsenal there. Say, would you have a problem with getting a set of arms for yourself?"
"I think I'd be more comfortable with just four legs..." Phineas replied, adding shortly afterwards in a joking way: "Maybe once I'm settled in a bit more!"
"Eh, I could never understand how anything gets done without Manipulators," Tsubar said, waving a grasper in the way Phineas would wave a hoof. He floated across the room with one tentacle outstretched. Three metallic claws extended from around the lens, pointing outwards. Tsubar pressed the tentacle against a panel, which - to Phineas' great surprise - morphed around it, forming some kind of lock. Where the claws pressed, they slid inwards. This created a circular indentation in the wall which measured a few inches in depth. Tsubar turned it and pulled the tentacle back. A seam appeared on the wall, interlocking like a zipper, then the wall pulled itself apart with a whole shelf of various alien tools folding outwards.
If Phineas didn't have his helmet on, his jaw would have dropped. This kicked the ever-loving shit out of his room at the academy and on the Iopteryx.
Tsubar looked back at him and said: "If you're going to do anything to this ship, you need the proper tools for the job. Go ahead and dump your sticks and stones on the table there. I'm sure I can smelt them down into useful scrap."
Phineas frowned slightly. His tools were some of the few things he still had of the past, of the time he remembered. "Come on, Startrot," he chided himself. "They're just tools. Besides, some things are better left behind and forgotten. That's gotten you through hard times before and it'll keep on doing so; you just have to keep it in mind."
With a nod to Tsubar, Phineas picked up the toolboxes and walked over to the large black table. He undid the fastenings and spilled the contents of the kits onto the table, the metal clattering into a sizable pile.
"I see you're saying goodbye to your 'best friends'," Gaali commented.
"Parting is such sweet sorrow," Phineas deadpanned, only half joking. He retrieved the crowbar from the pile and returned it to one of the toolboxes. If there was anything he would keep, it was the crowbar which proved invaluable for his salvation. It hadn't aged at all over almost four centuries.
"Ah good," Tsubar called out to him. "Now get over here, it's time to get you familiar with your requisitions."
"You keep ordering me around and I'll get you familiar with my hoof, alien or not." Phineas thought. He put his mostly empty toolboxes back on and trotted over to the arsenal of equipment Tsubar had stowed away.
Satisfied with how things were going, Gaali floated out of the mechanic's chamber.
***
Phineas' training began immediately after he was given his tools, a wide variety of strangely shaped equipment with prongs and such sticking out from them. Even simple wrenches and hammers were converted into the strange devices, which Phineas was told used Spell-matrixes to channel magical energy. Tsubar described some long winded technical explanation for how they worked. Phineas' simplified explanation was as follows.
"It's like using a unicorn's horn for the smallest task... can't blame the Shu'badi though. They don't have... limbs to do stuff with..."
Currently, Phineas was tasked with creating some simple machinery using the tools he was given, just to get a feel for how they worked. He was doing his task on the huge table across from Tsubar, who was working on making the PDA compatible with the Desolus' interfaces. Gaali had been right about him being more inclined to take the device apart and put it back together again. His tools hummed and whirred as they assembled various components -most of which were not apart of the device originally.
Phineas on the other hoof carefully grasped the alien tool in his hoof, adjusting its dial frequently to configure the intensity of the magic. It was a small thing, but the smouldering pieces of metal he cast aside were testament to how powerful it really was. Electrical arcs ran down the end with four prongs, tiny purple sparks leaping off of them. The silver stallion's concentration could not be shaken, not even the loudest crackle and pop of Tsubar's laser could disturb him as he put prong to metal.
On contact the energy hissed and flashed, binding small pieces together into a cubic frame around a glowing blue core that served as a power source. After a few decisive prods with the tool, he raised his creation up. He activated the device and with a low hum it created an orange sphere of flickering light. The projector had no data to display, but the fact Phineas managed to make something functional out of completely alien materials and components was extraordinary.
"Whoa. That was fast," Tsubar commented. "I'm still trying to update this hunk of junk. No offense, it must've been top of the line stuff when you were up and about,"
"I was always a fast learner... but this is nothing really. What I really want to start learning about is how this whole ship works! Back on the Iopteryx I spent hours disassembling machines and terminals so I could improve the spell converters and power management systems!" Phineas replied. He managed to stop himself from gushing on about how the technology worked. He figured even the more advanced aspects of the Iopteryx would have been Shu'badi foal's play.
"Impressive. The ponies we met on the fringe worlds would've tried to eat that tool if I were to let them hold it for longer than a few minutes," Tsubar said.
"Er... what?" Phineas asked flatly.
"Yeah, most of them aren't too mechanically inclined. Or... anything inclined really. Except for a few of them, they usually are the ones keeping the refuges working and everything."
"Again... what?" Phineas replied, unable to accept this. Education could not have declined so rapidly. Ponykind and their fellow creatures made it to space! Even with the destruction of Earth they could not have possibly degraded so...
could they?
Tsubar bobbed a bit higher at the edge of the table, as if he had been startled. "Oh, right. Sorry... that was a bit out of turn."
"Explain," Phineas said flatly. "Right now, explain."
"Hey, don't take it personally or anything. I didn't mean that ponies are... well... dumb[/i ]... inherently. It's just on a few fringe worlds... they aren't the most efficient Magi-flux Harmonizers in a set of Arcane-Manipulators, so to speak."
Phineas was at a loss for words. There were remnants of Equestria...but the spirit of the great age of exploration was gone. What had happened to the pursuit of knowledge that spurred the great ascension to the heavens in the first place...?
"Hey... Startrot? Are you still conscious?" Tsubar joked with a bit of worry evident in his voice.
"Yeah... just... surprised, is all. Maybe I was thinking the ponies of the future would have continued from where they had left off on Earth. I didn't think they'd..."
Phineas trailed off and got back to practicing with his equipment.
"Here, finished!" Tsubar proclaimed some time later, holding the PDA up over his head in the three-clawed grip of a tentacle.
Phineas stopped idly poking at the projector and looked up to his new and improved device. Tsubar set it down on the table and slid it across to the silver stallion, who then stopped it by putting his hoof down in its way. He set his Magi-Flux Harmonizer down on the table and raised the PDA up, looking at its screen. Where it was once blank, it was now conveying information on the Desolus' many systems.
"I took the liberty of putting in a Universal Translator into that thing," Tsubar said to him. "So you don't need to keep wearing the other one."
"Go figure. A Universal Translator that also works as an info-dump," Phineas replied somewhat flatly, the current state of the remains of Equestria heavy on his heart. He couldn't bring himself to make jokes. "So much for not pitying others... no, this isn't pity. It's shame."
"Hey, come on Startrot. I didn't mean anything about ponies when I said what I did!" said the mechanic in an attempt to reassure the stallion.
Phineas waved a hoof dismissively and put the PDA back on its orange band. He plucked the black device off his his chest and put it in the pile of tools. "It's almost like I was never in stasis!" he said, then he looked down to his new tool. "... Almost."
Tsubar laughed at the weak joke for Phineas' sake but did little else.
Changing the subject, Phineas said: "Gaali told me this ship delivers supplies to fringe worlds. Are we heading to one right now or...?"
"Gallopso. You might have seen all the cargo we have in the hold."
"I did indeed."
"It's a funny little world. It's very geologically active. Mountains and volcanoes dominate the landscape. The land is jagged and spiky; it tells the tale of frequent rising seas," Tsubar said to Phineas.
"So why did Equestrians settle there? The planet sounds extremely dangerous."
"If by settle you mean land their ship and start building; they didn't. They're still in the sky using their ship as the basis of their little city."
"Wow, really?"
"Cloud generators keep the ship and all the extensions they've added to it aloft. They anchor down when things on the surface are calm and disengage when things get hectic. It's pretty ingenious."
"But from what you said, you gave me the impression that ponies have regressed..." Phineas said.
"Not everyone in that city knows how it works. Only a few know how to keep the generators working and a few others know how to keep their ship in good order. With keeping alive from day to day the priority, formal schooling isn't much of a thing, you know?" Tsubar elaborated.
"I see... I suppose that makes sense," Phineas replied. With this knowledge, his spirits were lifted a little. The future for ponykind wasn't as bleak as he thought, for there were still great minds at work, scattered across space. If one had the drive and ability to, they too could learn the secrets of the worldly and beyond. Greatness was yet to be lost in full to ponies. As long as there was one pony with curiosity and motivation, there would always be hope.
"Why'd you ask?" Tsubar inquired.
"I was thinking of getting reacquainted with a few familiar faces... even if they're all strangers." Phineas answered.
"We're still some ways off from it, Startrot. What are you going to do until then?"
Phineas brought up his PDA, going through its features and projecting the ship's layout as he had seen on the wall terminal. "I'll be getting to know this ship a bit better. Give me a while with the design and I'll think you'll be surprised by the things I'd have found out on my own."
"Preposterous!" Tsubar shot back. "How can you learn how our ship works just by looking at the design? Without any knowledge of how its components function?"
"Give me some time and I'll show you," Phineas said slyly.
"Is that some kind of challenge?" Tsubar inquired, his tentacles coiling up on the table.
"One I intend to make good on. I'll see you when we reach Gallopso. Oh, and for the record, you can call me Phineas. Do me a favor and pass the message on, will you?" said the silver stallion, who then put his Harmonizer in a tool kit and made his departure from Tsubar's chamber.
"Oh yeah. I think I made a good first impression," he thought as he walked down the black halls with the blueprints as his map. There would be no more getting lost in these corridors.
***
"Phineas, you've been looking at those design-specs nonstop ever since Tsubar fixed up your wrist device."
Gaali floated over to Phineas' side with a tray held by one tentacle's graspers. She put the tray down at the counter he stood at.
He had his helmet off, laying on the counter off to the side of the tray he had. His right foreleg rested on the counter; his blue eyes transfixed on the projection of the ship's layout while he shoveled food into his mouth absentmindedly with his left, using the magical field of his Harmonizer as a spoon.
"Uh huh," he replied simply while his eyes ran across various chunks of text and diagrams for the umpteenth time.
The counter ran across the far wall of the room, which was the ship's mess hall. The other crew members of the Desolus were accompanying Phineas and Gaali except for Romaz and Tsubar, who had eaten earlier that "day" and were in their respective posts. Uolix was on the other side of the counter, standing in the middle of her kitchen, tentacles speeding across her grills. They all glowed warmly with her large pots and pans floating over them suspended in a magical field. Javic was on the other side of Gaali, the latter being in the middle between her and Phineas.
Javic was floating strips of greenery and scoops of a creamy, pudding-like substance into her retracted mouthpiece with an Arcane-Manipulator. In his time on the Desolus, it was the only time Phineas knew the Shu'badi to ever undo any part of their suits. For what it was worth, he knew that Javic's skin was a glistening, dark blue color, Gaali's was a light orange and Tsubar was a deep brown. The color of the other two Seaponies were currently unknown to him.
In contrast, the others knew full well how Phineas looked like underneath his suit; or at least what his face looked like. Over the few days that passed, cohabitation became possible without the spacesuit being necessary. Phineas learned however, that the Shu'badi wore their suits explicitly to retain the moisture in their bodies. While he could interact with them without his suit on, they could only do the same for short periods of time, if ever.
"You don't think you've committed them to memory already?"
"Not memorizing," Phineas said before downing another mouthful of the creamy substance that tasted like a medley of vegetables, some tastes familiar to him and others not very so. "Understanding."
Gaali's mouthpiece slid apart and she started to eat. Her mannerisms were much more refined, as opposed to the robotic tendency of the silver stallion. She plucked small amounts of her meal from the tray and carefully chewed it, while Phineas wasn't chewing much at all.
"Have you always been so compulsive in your studies?" she asked after downing a decent amount of her food.
"It's not compulsion. It's me having the urge to review constantly until I can go over every part of this ship mentally; forwards, backwards and side to side." Phineas said with a distant sounding drawl.
"But why?"
"I told Tsubar I'd be able to before we reach Gallopso."
"Ah."
Javic cocked her head at the conversation, turning her gaze past Gaali. It lingered on the silver stallion for a few moments, the Seapony finding Phineas to be an odd specimen. She couldn't fathom how any creature could willingly endure such repetition and not be positively bored out of their minds! In spite of this, Phineas was practically enveloped by the static hologram of the Desolus.
She wanted to speak to him herself when Uolix's voice intruded on her thought process. "Finished already?" the cook asked her.
Javic's response was sloppily assembled as she stumbled to contain her surprise. "I-yes, that is..." Her mouthpiece came together and she fell silent, the shy Shu'badi simply nodding. She raised her tray up to the ship's chef.
Uolix took the tray with a mechanical arm and put it on a table off to her right to be dealt with later. In a hushed voice she added: "I can't understand why you're so nervous all the time, Javic. Have those guns affected you in some way?"
"No, it's not that... I think it's just my nature. You and the others are my closest friends... but I'm still a stammering wreck most of the time around you... then there's Phineas..."
Uolix turned her sights to the stallion, who was now scooping at a mostly empty tray with his Harmonizer device. Gaali was swift to stop this though, snapping him back to reality long enough to notice he had finished eating.
"Strange one, isn't he?" Uolix said offhoofedly, then went ahead to retrieve his tray.
"Very..." Javic replied. She envied Gaali's outgoing attitude. Gaali not only found the stallion drifting in space, but had little reservations toward making first contact with him. Since then, it appeared she and Phineas had become best friends; disregarding the fact they were absolute strangers to each other just a few days before.
Javic wished she could know the pony a little more in such a way; perhaps even a little more. But with his priority being what it is, she found Phineas difficult to approach and impassive.
After stacking his tray on top of Javic's, Uolix replied: "Don't worry. He doesn't bite!"
"Thank you for the words of comfort, Uolix. I feel so much better." Javic replied with a monotone.
"Don't mention it!" said the chef, disregarding the technician's snide comment.
***
He was back in his room aboard the shuttle shortly after eating, the lights dimmed down. He was on his cot staring up at the projection, which was a diagram of the Desolus' Spell-core, detailing each individual machine's purpose and the processes which made them work. He was utterly captivated by it. So much so that he did not read the information in the hologram, he simply recited it in his mind as he looked at each individual part in all of it's transparent, holo-imaging glory.
"I'm juuuust about ready to try my hooves on the actual things!" Phineas thought with pent up anticipation.
And this was just the beginning. He awaited the time when he would come across another kind of starship with completely different principles of function. The fun he would have deciphering the alien code of science and practicality!
"One thing at a time, Startrot. One thing at a time."
"Entering Furosta star system. Gallopso is thirty minutes away!" he heard Romaz report over his PDA, her voice being the deepest of all the female Seaponies on board.
"And in perfect timing, too! Tsubar hold onto your alien ass, I think I just beat this challenge!"
With that, Phineas sprung out of bed, bucked it back into the wall and then got himself ready for his first true EVA. He did find it funny that the first life he would see on an alien planet would be others of his own species. Not only them, but minotaurs and gryphons and so much more!
Before long, he stood at a row of windows, looking out into space. It reminded of when he met Amadeus on the Iopteryx. He too was looking out of the ship's windows, except at the time he was taking in the sights of many other ships at the Ponyville launch hub. What Phineas saw now was far more grand. Against the backdrop of stars, he saw the planet Gallopso, its atmosphere a sea-green color. Clouds wafted across its sky over planetary badlands, craggy and rugged terrain.
And somewhere on it was a bastion of pony civilization, hovering above the turmoil brewing within the core.
One thing Phineas sorely missed on the Desolus was an observation deck. While such a thing might have been an inefficient use of space for a vessel which was essentially a freighter, it was a part of the Iopteryx he had treasured dearly. Never before had he seen space in such a broad, nearly personal scope. His memories of looking out of that giant screen were pristine in his mind. Starlight twinkling away beyond the glass, space rocks igniting in the atmospheres of wayward worlds...the asteroid field where the stricken Federation ship must have remained even now.
While his memories associated with the grand viewing deck were not all happy ones, it was still something of his past that left a lasting impression on him; something that left him wanting to see Gallopso in a way this line of windows prevented him from seeing. He could certainly look out of them, but only across their length. There was so much more detail to be seen, blocked by the black walls that glowed yellow. Phineas felt almost cheated. He stood reared, his hooves pressed against the orange glass and his face inches away from it.
"What is a stallion to do...?" he thought, the gears in his head turning. Any problem could be solved with just a little time and concentration.
Concentration and a spacesuit.
"... Duh. Have spacesuit, will soar!"
He pushed himself away from the windows and started to gallop down the hallway. He did not bother bringing up the ship's layout, for he was confident he knew the twists and turns of its corridors like the back of his hoof, and it was not his pride at work.
He sped down the ship as if he were back on the academy's field track. He ran up the ramps leading up to the upper levels of the ship, eventually arriving at his destination: an airlock. He raised his PDA and typed in a command. Normally, the hatch would have needed a Shu'badi's Arcane-Manipulator to open, such as Tsubar's store of equipment. To not limit the accessibility of the ship to the new crew member however, Tsubar was sure to grant remote control to the PDA.
The circular paneling slid inwards and turned before splitting apart, sliding into the wall. On the other side of the hatch was a fairly long but skinny vertical shaft. It was lit by the same red light that illuminated the engineering deck. After he stepped through the opening, the hatch shut behind Startrot and the red light intensified in brightness. There was a hiss of air as the shaft was depressurized and Phineas' life support protocols initiated with an electronic beeping. The status of his air supply and environmental readings were on his HUD.
The hatch above him opened once the air had been vacuumed out. Just beyond the length of the chute, there was space. All of it. The huge expanse of existence itself was just one short pulse of his jetpack away. It was a humbling realization for Phineas to say the least.
The two boosters popped out from the side of the suit's pack, swiveling around on the end of silver extensions and then flared up, propelling Phineas up and out of the shaft with a flash of scarlet, a pair of vapor trails left in their wake. He came down at the outer edge of the chute, magnetic clamps on his hooves keeping him bound to the Desolus as it rocketed through the Furosta system at several hundred kilometers.
He stood on an elevated part of the ship near the aft end, where the bright exhaust of the ship's two engines was clearly visible. As bright as they were, the engines drowned in the light of the star. Even as distant as it was, its radiance consumed any other other light with overpowering brilliance.
"All systems nominal. No critical error. My organs have yet to explode..." Phineas muttered to himself as he beheld the sight.
Gallopso, partially cast in a crescent shadow, gradually grew larger and larger with each passing minute. It had three moons all at varying distances from the planet, floating in their orbits like watchful sentinels.
"Possible explanation for abnormal geological disturbances... gravity, you are truly something, aren't you?"
The silver stallion remained outside of the Desolus for a little while longer before he was otherwise forced to return to the safety its hull and magical shielding provided. That was due to the ship angling itself for atmospheric entry...and when fast things hit air, they tend to heat up. Sparing himself the searing pain and highly probable death, Phineas deactivated the clamps and jetted back into the ship. Once he was at the bottom of the shaft, the hatch on top slid shut and the airlock was pressurized again, the chamber filled with a tinny sounding hiss until a loud click became audible and the lower hatch opened.
Phineas stepped out as a very happy pony.
***
The underside of the Desolus' dark hull started to glow bright, a hot red and orange as the ship -for lack of a better choice of words- fell from the sky. It was pointed upwards at a sharp angle when it hit the upper atmosphere of the planet. A wispy, white barrier formed around the lower hull a few feet away from the actual metal; an area of compressed air as the freighter plummeted.
The loud growl of powerful servos marked the rotation of the ship's engines to direct their thrust downwards, the thrusters belching out blinding light with a screech thereafter. The ship's descent slowed gradually until it was nearly hovering in the lower atmosphere of Gallopso. From there the freighter swung about, flying over the planet's ocean. Its shadow wavered across the bobbing seas.
The rocky landscape rose out of the ocean, beaches stripped of sand and instead lined by smoky gray crust. Spikes jutted from the tortured landscape where the surface of Gallopso had been broken and broken again. Ranges of mountains were plentiful with peaks that stabbed high into the air, topped off with snow and ice.
Embedded into the rock was what appeared to be a humungous harpoon, the spear having several other metal extensions branching off and buried into the ground, thoroughly anchoring the gigantic chain which extended from it up to the idle clouds lingering over the craggy coast. The city that rested on the clouds was enormous. It was essentially one gigantic ship with several platforms built out from its hull and each platform had its own puff of cloud under them to keep them afloat.
The ship itself was a huge saucer that was black at the outer rim. Underneath it were strange spires of various lengths extending downwards, some disappearing into the cushion of clouds it rested upon. At the center of the top side, there was a relatively small glass dome which revealed the huge complex that was inside the disk-ship. The superstructure was clearly meant to house thousands inside. In addition to spreading outwards, the Equestrians here also built upwards. Many structures, small and large alike, had been erected on top of the bulk of the craft.
It was as if the refuge was a combination of a Pegasus city and a metropolis the likes of Manehattan. The Desolus was incredibly small in comparison. In fact, it was so small that it was -by proportion- even smaller than the very shuttle it housed in its cargo hold. The floating city's docking area was like an aged and less glamorous version of the Ponyville launch hub with all manner of spacecraft parked in shipyards stacked in tiers, held in place by clamps of many sizes. Ships much larger than the freighter were being tended to comfortably within the city's spaceport.
The Desolus pulled into a shipyard, coming to a stop in between two platforms. From them the clamps reached out and locked onto the ship's hull, anchoring it in place. The ship's engines ceased shortly after and the cargo hold's door was lowered to form an export ramp. At any given time there were hundreds of people inside the spaceport, all working to keep the flow of goods moving. unicorns, pegasi, earth ponies, minotaurs, diamond dogs and many others hauled heavy crates in tandem with each other, using lifting machinery, magic or just their collective might.
The Desolus' hold was emptied promptly after it had docked, with the only incident being a slight confusion over Phineas' shuttle. Romaz was quick to set things straight, however.
"Ah, that's not part of the delivery!" she informed the crew of dockworkers who were perplexed at the craft, a few of them gathering loading machinery so that they could transport it out of the hold.
***
Elsewhere, Phineas looked out of the windows at the hustle and bustle outside, blown away by the scene. It seemed he had been wrong to worry about what had become of his race, if Gallopso was a means to judge from. The remnants of Equestria were far from primitives who would sooner eat a piece of machinery than use it. Or rather, these Equestrians were the ones who were part of the greater whole which kept the city in the condition it was in. They could have been this society's elites for all Phineas knew.
"I had a feeling I'd find you here," he heard Tsubar say to him. Phineas looked to his right and saw the mechanic approaching from further up the hall. "So, what do you think?"
"I don't know what to think," Phineas replied honestly. "When we talked I thought the most my kind had accomplished after the fall of Earth was simply finding new places to live and surviving. But this... super metropolis is anything but! The ponies here have not only survived but they have thrived!"
"A word of warning: don't draw any conclusions without seeing everything first. I said the ponies across these fringe worlds are on point where it counts. It's when you get past the necessities does the splendor wear off and you realize just what's up with these places."
"I don't know what to think," Phineas repeated, shaking his head.
"Come on, I'll help you get your bearings on things. We're on ship leave anyway," Tsubar said.
"Ship leave?" the silver stallion inquired with a cock of his head.
"Yeah, we completed our delivery so we get some time off to do what we please before we have to blast off again. Didn't you ever get time off?"
"I knew it as reassignment. After one completes their time aboard a vessel and return to Earth, they usually got a month or two to themselves before being called to join another ship's crew and completing another round into space. I never got the chance to finish my first," Phineas answered. "Which is why... you know... I'm here right now," he added afterwards.
"Right," Tsubar replied without much else to go on. "On to matters that are more pressing; how about I go show you around this place, to let you see where your kind truly stand. I think it would ease some worries...if not answer a few of your questions."
"I think I'd like that, Tsubar," Phineas said, nodding afterwards. "Yeah. I'd definitely like that."
"Good," the mechanic said as he started to float away from the window. "It will also give me a good opportunity to gauge how well your private studies have worked. You have yet to show that you have beaten our challenge."
"Don't you worry about that. If there's one thing I am certain about, it's the fact I know the Desolus almost as well as I knew the Iopteryx!" Phineas boasted with a surge of pride. With that, he trotted after Tsubar down the corridor.
A small section of hull plating popped outward and slid apart. A secondary door was revealed underneath and it promptly opened after the external one. From the threshold of the Desolus' entrance a ramp was lowered. It formed a shallow incline down to the starboard platform the ship was docked at.
Tsubar floated down it while Phineas followed him at a deliberately slower pace. The stallion watched was the arms of cranes built into each tier of the massive port swung about, tons of goods in motion at any given time. Orders were being barked amongst the workers, scores of ponies and non-ponies scampered across the many levels. There was no other way to describe it other than organized chaos.
With all the noise, the Shu'badi hadn't even bothered to start speaking until the shipyards were far behind them. They vacated the dock and were walking through a large, hexagonal hallway. The walls were segmented and a light purple in color. It had two rows of angled lights shining into the passage.
"Clearance hub up ahead. On the other side of that door will be the congregation center. Don't give the guards a reason to shoot you and they won't. Seems simple enough to me; what do you think, Startrot?"
"You mean if I obey the law I won't get in trouble with the law enforcement? My, you might as well remind me to breathe!" Phineas replied melodramatically, shifting his weight from side to side as if he were going to faint, a hoof raised to his face and his head thrown back.
"If you'd stop playing around you'd know I have my reasons to warn you. They already have enough to worry about without some vagrant fresh off a cargo ship causing trouble for them. No offense or anything - the whole vagrant business," Tsubar said without looking back at Phineas' foolishness.
Phineas trotted up to Tsubar's side. "So tell me about this clearance hub. For starters, what am I to expect, exactly?"
"A bunch of people on guard duty with serious firepower on them. They're there to make sure any weapons newcomers may have are out of sight and out of mind."
Phineas cocked his head. "They don't ask for ID; they just make sure somepony doesn't walk in guns blazing? If the concern when entering the city is people with weapons, why don't the guards confiscate them?"
Tsubar stopped floating abruptly and spun to face Phineas. He held the stallion by the shoulders, stopping him place roughly midway through the passage way. He was shaking his head while chuckling lowly.
"They can't just take the weapons of the patrons, you see," he said. "Lesson one is this Phineas: there is no true law. Only safeguarding of interests. Weapons happen to be the way many do their 'safeguarding', see?"
"... So the guards aren't on duty to protect anyone?"
"They're there to protect the interest of the city. Merchants being robbed, property damage and so on; so forth is what they cover. Everything else is left up to the individuals. Don't be surprised if you see someone's head get blown apart over a disagreement or something similar to the likes," Tsubar explained.
"...That is horrible," Phineas said flatly.
"That's life. Or at least, that's life here on Gallopso. There's a reason why these places are called fringe worlds, friend."
"The strongholds of what remains of Equestria abide by such... savagery?" Phineas inquired disbelievingly.
"I told you not to pass judgement until you learned more. Now you know why. And this isn't even the beginning of it all..." Tsubar said, chuckling some more afterwards. He turned around and continued to float off to the end of the hallway.
Phineas did not find this revelation amusing in the least.
***
The center of the door turned clockwise, another ring of metal around it turned counterclockwise. A hollow thunk marked the unlocking of the door, which shot straight down into the floor. Tsubar floated on through without so much as a glance toward the group of four which stood immediately beyond, two on each side.
The guards all wore dark blue plated armor which was suited to their unique builds. Two were ponies, one being a bat-winged Pegasus and the other was an earth pony. Of the other two, one was a minotaur and the last was a diamond dog. The ponies had their intimidating blaster rifles strapped onto their flanks while the minotaur and diamond dog held their weapons at waist level. They all wore headsets that had red visors extending across their eyes.
Phineas acted according to example. Apparently, ignoring the guards was the proper conduct. He followed Tsubar as the Seapony fell into line with the crowd of Equestrians walking across the silvery deck. While each level was very large, there was a hollow center to each one excluding the very top and very bottom, with chrome railing around the holes. The hollow center extended down from the glass dome at the very top level of the mega-ship so that it formed a pillar of empty space with each subsequent deck.
Opposite the pit were gigantic rooms the size of warehouses where countless merchant stalls had been set up, Equestrians and aliens alike all peddling their goods. They were all shady characters, all with some form of weaponry visibly holstered on their person. In spite of the intricacy of the ship the Equestrians called home, there was an undeniable lawlessness to it. Like a coiled spring, the latent tension was heavy in the air.
"I don't like it," Phineas thought as he walked past grizzled-looking ponies with plated barding covering their vital areas and weapons strapped to their sides. Their faces seemed to be perpetually locked in scowls, as if they were challenging the universe to stand against them. Gone was the warm comradery that once existed between the denizens of Equestria. Gone was the inherent spread of cheer and good will. It was if the magic of friendship did not exist at all; ponies coexisting on the ship but rarely acknowledging each other, and when they did they were unduly nasty in the encounters.
"I don't like it one bit."
Then it occurred to him that he -in his protective suit- fit right in. It did not help that he was armed as well, with his hover-platform rifles and energy blade. Tsubar had his laser weaponry integrated directly into his Arcane-Manipulators. In truth, while he was opposed to the power weaponry instilled in the average person, Tsubar and himself were no different than the great many that walked across the city's deck.
This in turn brought about an odd feeling in Phineas as he kept pace with Tsubar. It was a sinking feeling that accompanied the inward confession that he was an unintentional hypocrite -as if one could ever strive to contradict their self.
"I really, really don't like it one bit."
Some time passed where Tsubar seemed to be leading the silver stallion blindly without any actual destination, leaving Phineas to glance around at his shiny surroundings as he tread behind the Seapony. The walls of the ship still had their luster, shining in the bright clearness of the lights which offered ample illumination across the city. In spite of its great age and the caliber of its occupants, the ship stirred up the stallion's memories. For all intents and purposes, he was walking down the halls of a Federation ship, granted one many times larger and more advanced than any ship he knew of. With accomplishments such as this craft to claim, Phineas felt now more than ever that Equestria had been cut down in its prime.
"Aah, our pilgrimage will soon be at an end, Phineas!" Tsubar said to him finally after the prolonged silence between the two. Up until then, all Phineas heard was the muttering of nearby ponies and the frequent heated argument.
"You didn't say anything about any pilgrimage," Phineas replied.
"It's a figure of speech. There is hardly anything noble or exalted about the place I'm headed to," said the Seapony.
"There's hardly anything noble or exalted about this place in general, Tsubar."
"This is true. Puts it in context, doesn't it?" Tsubar responded with a dry chuckle.
"Puts what in context?" Phineas queried.
"You'll see."
"I'd rather be told," Phineas retorted, somewhat annoyed. He really was not in the mood for the Shu'badi's own foolishness.
"You'll only make dealing with all of this harder on yourself with that attitude. Lighten up and try to keep your head held high," Tsubar advised, "you'll only depress yourself if you take things for what they are."
Phineas growled irritably, but accepted this piece of wisdom. "Fine. I'll wait for your surprise, whatever it may be," he said.
"I don't think you'll be disappointed."
***
"By Celestia's mane, you have got to be kidding me," Phineas said flatly, staring at the entrance with a thousand things running through his mind. This place was indeed far less than noble and certainly no where near worthy of being revered in any way, shape or form. This was no place to make any sort of journey to!
"Is that how you react to entertainment? I think you've been staring at holograms for far too long, Phineas," Tsubar joked.
"I don't think I consider bars as... entertainment. There was once a time when they were a refuge for the likes of ponies like me... you can say I've developed a bit of an aversion to them since then."
Tsubar waved one of his graspers. "Eh, suit yourself. You can follow me in or wait for me outside and hope that you don't get shot at by some jackass who's in a bad mood. Choice is yours."
"It's not much of a choice," Phineas deadpanned.
"Indeed. So stop griping and follow me inside, a few drinks would do you good; I think."
Phineas sighed. "Fine. But as soon as my suit gives me a warning that something in there - be it the drinks or something else - is going to kill me, we're leaving. Deal?"
Tsubar tapped a claw to his chin in an exaggerated gesture of thought. "Eh, deal. Can't have the newest member of the crew dying; Romaz would never let me hear the end of it."
"Good to know you care," Phineas replied flatly.
Without another word, Tsubar floated up to the entrance of the tavern, the door's central piece turning clockwise, the ring around it turning the opposite direction and the whole thing dropping away before him. Tsubar floated into the pub with Phineas begrudgingly following suit. The stallion shot one last look at the holographic sign outside.
"Eztraal's Starblazer" flickered beside the doorway as a green hologram A subtitle in a deceptively elegant script read: "A place with a view!" A variety of scantily clad dancers were projected in miniature beneath the large and stylized font.
"It's one of those places. Some things truly transcend the test of time..."
To Phineas, his cynicism was well founded. The tavern was a very large chamber with many tables and counters located immediately after walking through the door, most of them occupied already. Large groups crowded the tavern, standing around the dimly lit room and conversing; music pulsating and throbbing in the air with flashes of light from glass fixtures where electricity danced wildly. The bar was further in, to the far left of the silver stallion. It was stocked with all kinds of strange beverages on cold metal shelves... some of which seemed to be glowing.
... And of course, there were the dancers the hologram promised on a stage dead in the middle of the tavern, mares and a few aliens that Phineas thought were female but dared not assume anything. A bunch of drunken equines -a few of them female- barked and hooted at the base of the stage while the dancers moved their bodies to entice their ravenous behavior. Phineas inwardly grimaced at the memories the sight brought up.
He did his best to zone it out as he he navigated his way to the bar, walking a meandering path through the arrangement of tables and avoiding the large groups that broke out into drunken laughter occasionally. He met up with Tsubar at the bar counter just as the Shu'badi was leaving it, all four of his graspers holding strangely shaped bottles of even stranger beverages.
"So do you normally drink this much, or...?" Phineas trailed off.
"Naaaaah... one of these is for you!" the mechanic countered.
"How... considerate of you."
Tsubar chuckled. "Well you know me-"
"Barely," Phineas interjected, but was ignored.
"- Kindness and generosity define me!"
"... Barely." Phineas stated again. The Seapony offered to help him come to terms with what Equestria had become, so he was dragged off to some lowly bar where the worst of people was usually laid to bare? How was that kind or generous?
"Wow you're a killjoy. I know how to fix that!" Tsubar replied, then sped off with his drinks held high. The glowing brews he held were a beacon for the stallion to follow, and follow he did.
"Like I'm some lost puppy," he thought bitterly, his mood souring further when he realized the figure of speech was far more accurate than he'd have liked it to be.
He met up with Tsubar in one of many rows of booths that lined the far side of the tavern. The seats were blue and black like the lunar princess. Her cutie mark was a decoration on the table itself. He was repulsed to find an association with the princess in a place like this. He was infuriated when he took notice of the moaning and grunting coming from other booths. His anger simmered underneath the plating of his suit.
Even when "sitting", the Seapony continued to bob up and down weightlessly. His mouthpiece retracted, allowing him to indulge in his drinking pleasure. Phineas laid across the booth in front of him, the silver glaring at the wall on the other side of the pub; expression hidden by his helmet.
Tsubar only stopped drinking when he felt it imperative to address the issue. "Oh, get over yourself!" he said to Phineas. "You act as if this never happened during your time, and considering this is par the course for most pubs across the galaxy, I'm going to have to disagree with that!"
"There is a reason why I have an aversion to places like this," Phineas replied, trying his utmost to stay leveled. "I don't like them and I am in one. It is only natural that I am going to have a problem, so I'm just going to sit here quietly until you've finished your business; then we go somewhere that I don't feel so... uncomfortable."
"Well you haven't even touched your drink! How are you going to have a good time if-?"
"I would rather not get drunk in order to enjoy myself, thank you very much. I have put those days far behind me."
"... Ah ha. You've got yourself some issues!" Tsubar replied. Phineas saw that he had a strangely broad smile on his face. If he wanted to shove his hoof into the Seapony's face before, then he wanted to utterly clobber him now for patronizing him.
Before he could indulge the thought however, Tsubar's smile disappeared completely. "Aw damn, they found me," he said flatly.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Phineas asked curtly.
"It's a story of the Megula-2 fringe world and a skilled young mechanic's bright idea of using magi-tech to rig a game of chance," Tsubar began to explain.
"You're like... centuries old," Phineas mumbled.
"Young by Shu'badi standards you jackass, but long story short: bunch of scary bastards got pissed and they have been trying to get me ever since. And now they found me."
"Because you're... I don't know... back in the same kind of shady place where your problems must've started?" Phineas asked sarcastically.
"Partly. Chances are they've been tailing us ever since we got off the Desolus and were just waiting for us - me - to get into a place where the law o' 'who has the bigger gun' is in full effect," Tsubar responded. His mouth piece slid back into place and he hadn't finished his drink. It was as if he were telling his pursuers "I know what's about to happen."
Phineas gritted his teeth. Just perfect! He was just at the end of his patience when the two newcomers appeared at the booth; two bat-winged pegasi. They wore blue and white plating with the crimson insignia of splayed gryphon claws emblazoned on their shoulders. They wore similar headsets to the ship-city's guards and they didn't waste time with small talk. They bucked their hind legs and from cases on their flanks, the barrels of two light energy rifles extended.
Tsubar's own guns were also trained on both his would-be killers, his four tentacles arcing around the booth to keep them locked down. "Hello girls," he said with mocking politeness. "I'm afraid you've come at a most inopportune time!" Then in a sudden shift of tone he added: "Do anything that isn't involved in turning around and getting the fuck out of here and I turn you both into slag."
The one nearest Phineas swiftly turned her guns towards him. She smiled wickedly, exposing abnormally large fangs, her yellow eyes staring maliciously at the stallion clad in plating. "Reconsider your offer, fish bait. Unless you want your friend here to get a magi-bolt through the head."
"Wha-" was all Tsubar had time to say before his arms flopped onto the table and floor, himself ceasing to float after the other stamped some kind of inhibitor onto him. It looked like a parasite, it sticking to the Shu'badi's suit with a rubbery application that looked like a suction cup and a elongated metal capsule that stabbed into Tsubar's attire with many tiny mechanical claws.
Phineas snapped then and there. He sprung up from his seat, twisting through the air and coming down onto the table with a loud thud; the bottles on it jumping up and clattering noisily and messily on the floor; his hover-platform rifles deployed, one trained on either pony.
"I'd recommend you listen to him. Do anything less than savory and I'll send a magi-bolt through both your heads," he snarled.
A single glance between them was all Phineas had as an indicator of what was going to happen next... and it was something he expected. One of them aimed their guns to fire while the other lunged at him with another inhibitor in their mouth. Acting on a razor's edge, Phineas fired once, both rifles going off with a bright flash of blue and white light and a short squealing noise.
Both ponies slumped over and fell. Phineas was breathing hard, staring at the bodies for quite some time afterwards. He was expecting an uproar. He was expecting to be arrested and punished. But no one even gave the booth a passing glance. It was madness for him. It was Tsubar who ungraciously brought him back to reality.
"Oi, you think you can get this thing off of me?"
Phineas' gaze snapped to Tsubar and the stallion gave him a sharp look underneath his helmet, but relented. He hopped off the table and with careful aiming of his gun, shot the inhibitor right off of Tsubar's suit. The Seapony flexed his arms experimentally then resumed floating when he was assured they worked correctly.
"Thanks for the-" was all Tsubar managed to say before Phineas' hoof collided forcefully with his face, sending him spinning end over end while he hovered in place.
"We're going back to the ship. I've seen enough of this place," he growled.
Phineas was the one in front this time around. If it weren't for his helmet, he would be the one with a glare glued onto his face for all approaching to see. If it weren't for the impassive yellow screens over them, his eyes would have beamed hatred and contempt for all those who called this place "home". He did not look at Tsubar at all ever since he hit the Seapony and left the bar, but he knew the mechanic was close behind. The Shu'badi was wise to stay silent, for Phineas was still in the clutches of his fury.
Rage, guilt and sadness mixed into a volatile trio of emotional distress which rendered Phineas a completely different pony than he normally was. He wanted to get away from this wrongness. He wanted his old Equestria back. He wanted to see those old faces he never truly appreciated. Some things were not better off left behind and forgotten.
"Murderer."
The voice was his own. A voice that was neutral in tone but still undeniably scolding.
"I am a murderer. Since when was I able to spill the blood of my own kind?"
"Since I found these weapons. Since I decided I was going to fight for my life. These ponies aren't my kind. I am as alien to these Equestrians as the Shu'badi are alien to me. And in the end we are all as monstrous as a fucking Iopteryx toward one another."
Phineas breezed past the many "guards" patrolling the deck while caught up in this mental debate, disgusted that they allowed rampant bloodshed take place in the city of their charge. He was disgusted with himself for being so quick to partake in it himself. He wished he had done something different. Maybe try to diffuse the situation, maybe talk his way out of it instead of simply shooting-
"One was going to disable me and the other was going to shoot me. I gave them a chance to walk away and they didn't take it. I refuse to lay down my life so meaninglessly."
"I am still a murderer though. How can I claim to be better than this new Equestria when I have blood on my hooves?"
He cringed at the voices he heard, the ones from his nightmare days before. The imagery of blood washing over his body in the decimated halls of the doomed starship came rushing from the depths of his mind. He stopped walking abruptly.
"Watch what you're doing, fuckface!"
"Get out of the way, retard!"
He stumbled and staggered as he was pushed and shoved from side to side, eventually being steadied and herded out of the crowd by Tsubar. The Shu'badi pulled him aside so that they were near all the stores. Phineas snarled and bucked the Seapony, knocking him into a wall and putting some distance between himself and the alien. He didn't know why he did it, Tsubar was only trying to help, but he did it and it felt good. It helped him deal with his renegade emotions.
"... And... here I was... thinking you wouldn't fit in!" Tsubar said in between gasps. Phineas must have hit him especially hard that time around.
The armored stallion whipped around to face the Seapony; Tsubar was unable to see just how angry Phineas was. His passion was boiling underneath that austere gray metal. "What... did you just say to me?" Phineas growled lowly. It wasn't so much as a question as it was his way of warning the alien.
But Tsubar had already proven himself to be the type to disregard clear and present danger with no regard for the repercussions. "Doing whatever it takes to stay alive? A penchant for violence? Were you always like this, or was Equestria always a shitho-"
Phineas reared up and sent a foreleg flying forward, cutting Tsubar off with another hoof to the face. The second hit was a sidelong swing which bashed his head into the wall he was knocked into the first time.
Tsubar bobbed about haphazardly afterwards, dazed. "You're... you're a lot stronger than you look. Around these parts, that'll do you well!"
"Are you a glutton for pain?" Phineas spat disdainfully.
"Do you enjoy causing it?" Tsubar shot back.
Phineas bared his teeth underneath the helmet, his body lowering as he prepared to pounce onto the Shu'badi and give him what he had coming towards him for what the silver stallion envisioned to be a very long time. He stopped though, when he saw that he had cracked the visor on the Shu'badi's own helmet. He saw droplets of red where the screen was broken.
The terrible realization that the Shu'badi were incredibly fragile creatures dawned on Phineas then. That, or he was incredibly brutish. Both made him feel like a monster.
"Tsubar..." he started to say, unable to bring himself to say more. "By Celestia's sun and Luna's moon, what is wrong with me!?" he cried in his mind.
"Save it," Tsubar replied. He said no more, floating on past the distraught pony.
Phineas looked down at his hooves then up at the others around him. A few looked away from him, as if to pretend they were focused on other things all along. For the most part though, what had just transpired had gone ignored. Guards looked the other way. The overwhelming majority of Equestrians carried on with their own business. The level of callousness and his own turn for the worst was starting to make him physically ill.
***
"Gaali, I think I need that mental evaluation after all," was the first thing Phineas said once he was back on the Desolus. He had sought out the Seapony across the ship before he finally found her...in her quarters. If he did not fear for his state of mind, he would have had more than a few qualms with the waste of time his search was.
Gaali's room was quite plain. That was because there was only one thing inside it aside from a few wall mounted computers: one large metal construct. It was roughly funnel shaped, larger at the base and narrower at the top but not quite tapered. Cables and tubes ran out from it into the ceiling and floors.
Like the doors of the Desolus, the construct's entrance was comprised of two sets of doors. The outer doors swung outwards, revealing an inner chamber with another door leading into the actual structure. The inner door had a window where refracted light shone through, running along the walls. Standing in front of it was Gaali in her suit.
"Did something happen?" she asked, floating out from her tank.
"... You can say that," Phineas replied.
He then proceeded to tell Gaali of what had happened. He told her about how he had to kill two ponies without hesitation and he described the things he had done to Tsubar. From his frequent pauses and tone of voice, Gaali could tell he felt awful about the whole thing.
"Phineas," she began to say once he was done with his story. ".... while I understand why you would be upset, you have to realize, these fringe worlds are nothing like the Equestria you knew-"
"Which is why I'm so worked up over this!" Phineas shouted, unable to contain himself anymore. He fell to the floor, weeping behind the yellow screens covering his eyes. "I've turned savage during my stasis somehow... I've- when I was awakened by you retrieving my shuttle, my first instinct was to fight. I did not understand my situation and I did not attempt to. I was just... ready. Ready to fight and... kill."
He felt himself become weightless, enveloped in a magical field. Gaali's four metal arms suspended him off of the floor, lifting him back to his hooves. "You are not a monster," she assured him. "You were doing what comes naturally, to keep yourself alive. That is called instinct, but you do not rely on it entirely. I know this because you did not attack us when you left your ship."
"But... I'm a murderer... and I've hurt Tsubar..." Phineas said, the incident still quite heavy on his conscience.
"You acted on your instinct when it was clear there would be no peaceful resolution. You were justified in doing so. Tsubar ...if he did say the things you said he did - and I have little reason to doubt you - should have known better than to agitate you further than you were already," Gaali responded with seemingly infinite patience.
Phineas sighed. "I shouldn't have lost control. I am better than this. I should be better than this. What I've done... it goes against the Federation's standards as well as my own."
He bowed his head in shame and added: "Have I lost my way? Have I lost my discipline?"
"You are a stranger in a strange time. You have lost your way... but not your merit," Gaali answered. "I know there is good in you. It is the good that cannot stand to see the wrong that exists across the galaxy."
"I don't feel good," Phineas said. "I don't feel like myself. I remember everything from before... I still know all I knew then - and more now - but I don't feel like Phineas Startrot. Could going into stasis have... altered me somehow?"
"I cannot say. I do not know any other Phineas Startrot; I only know the one who has fallen into a pit of self-doubt and uncertainty."
"And there lies your problem. You can't hope to accomplish something if you don't believe in yourself. I would have thought the academy taught you that!" Phineas heard the voice of the minotaur. A ghost of a ghost that memory was.
"After 378 years... I still haven't learned." Phineas muttered.
"What was that?" Gaali asked, cocking her head.
"Wise words from an old... friend." the silver stallion replied. "Wise words that I still remember after so many years... it was... just two weeks ago to me. Two weeks... not 378 years."
"I sense a deeper issue than the one we've covered..." Gaali said. "Do you wish to talk about it?"
"I don't think there's much to say, Gaali," Phineas stated. "I... miss them. If I knew I would have been where I am now... I would have lived my life differently. I would have been a better pony... not the best, but a better one. One who didn't push others away just because I was. I would have gotten to know them better. I would have tried to make friends..."
The sorrow he felt was so bad that it was actually starting to make him hurt. "Gaali... thanks for your time." he said, wanting to end this as quickly and politely as he could. "I really appreciate you talking with me and I'll think about what you said... but right now I think I need some time alone."
"Any time you are lost, I will do my best to guide you. Shoo bee doo, Phineas."
"Yeah... shoo bee doo..." he responded. He nodded his head respectfully to Gaali and then turned to leave. The door slid apart to let him out. Stepping into the hallway, he caught sight of Javic, the Seapony busying herself with a nearby terminal. Phineas did not think much of it; he walked right by her on his way down the cargo hold.
Javic stole a glance at him as he went.
***
Back in the shuttle, Phineas took off his space suit and put it away in the storage closet. Once free of his metal shell, he walked into his room and pulled out his cot; which he promptly flopped onto. The lights dimmed down and he stared up at the paneled ceiling. His mind was heavy -he would not be getting to sleep any time soon.
Though he was asleep for almost four hundred years, when Phineas was shaken from his eventual slumber he felt as if he had been asleep for an eternity. Fortunately, he did not have nightmares about specters of his past. Instead, he woke up to live one all its own. The rocking of the ship was what brought him back to wakefulness. He jolted and sat up on his cot, closing his eyes as the lights brightened thereafter.
"Iopteryx!?" he thought. He felt ill when the thought crossed his mind that he; like the pony from the escape pod, would be the undoing of the Desolus and those aboard.
"No, damn it!" he protested mentally. "Find out what the fuck is going on before you start freaking out!"
He might as well have had wings with how high he launched himself from the bed, not even folding it back up into the wall. He hit the floor with a metallic thump and sped through the door into the cockpit. He suited up with practiced speed and raised the shuttle's canopy. He did not bother using the ladder; instead opting for the jetpack alternative. He needed to fast and even his speedy hooves were too slow. The hold's door hadn't fully lowered when he bolted through the small space between it and the ceiling and went on to tear through the hallway, his boosters screeching all the way.
"Tsubar, what in the name of the Ghu'arat is going on!?" Romaz barked over the crew's comms.
"What makes you think I have anything to do with this!?" the mechanic shouted indignantly in response.
"Are you forgetting Magin-9 already!?" Uolix chimed in.
"That was an isolated incident!"
Phineas leaned his body to and fro, banking and swerving around corners with ruby light running across the black walls. At the back of his mind, he attempted to piece together what he could from their exchange. Otherwise, he was preoccupied navigating the Desolus.
"I never did get to show Tsubar I've beaten the challenge..."
The double doors parted seconds before Phineas roared into the ship's bridge. He reared in the air, sending a gust of heat frontwards and cancelling his momentum. His boosters cut out and he dropped onto the floor with them folding up and retracting back into their places.
Gaali and Javic were there on either side of him, their Arcane-Manipulators practically blurs as they tended to their controls. The floor angled downwards to Romaz in a hub of computers, holograms surrounding the semicircular array of screens. On the Desolus' main window was a projection of the attacker.
***
It was not an Iopteryx. In fact, it was not a Star Terror at all -or at least, not a Star Terror as Phineas knew them. What had the Desolus in its sights however, was terrifying in its own right.
It was not that it outclassed the freighter in size. If it was larger, then it was only a marginal difference. What made this thing so unsettling was the fact that it was a blend of metal and flesh. A vessel of war infused with the body of a fully grown dragon, its black scales lined with strips of light similar to the walls of the Desolus. The upper portion of its head had been made mechanical, a skull of black metal that clashed with the organic lower jaw. Its eyes were blood red and shone brightly underneath the artificial crests with ran on either side of its snout.
Armored plates ran down the back of its neck, its limbs were replaced in full by machinery. Its wings had been removed, with two large engines mounted to take their place. There was a superstructure on its shoulders, a metallic hump where the cyborg's masters controlled their weapon.
"... What the hell." Phineas deadpanned after his dramatic entrance.
"Javic, direct starboard lateral cannons on the Draconix! Scanners show a rise in energy level. It's charging a weapon!" Gaali said with urgency in her voice.
"Right!" Javic replied and her speeding arms became even faster.
The monstrous construct came around the Desolus, powering off to its right side. The dragon's maw opened, releasing a dark vapor into the vacuum. From its throat, a cannon extended. At the end of its barrel, four pointed pylons spun. Streaks of purple energies gathered in the weapon, which started to emit a powerful glowing as an orb took shape. The weapon was a Spell-core blaster...unleashing the forces that allowed interstellar travel in one powerful beam.
It was destruction in its purest and deadliest form.
Romaz clutched her controls in her claws, preparing to send the ship into a roll and tear away from the cyborg. With everyone at the bridge devoted to their tasks, Phineas was completely thrown for a loop as to what was going on. They were being attacked by a cyborg -a Draconix according to Gaali- for reasons he could only assume were related to Tsubar's less than ideal dealings. Because of this, Startrot inferred the Desolus had left Gallopso and was now in deep space. If Tsubar was indeed correct about his pursuers waiting for him since the freighter docked, then being attacked on departure should have been expected...even if the means in which the attack happened was far from predictable.
If being attacked by a cyborg really was a result of the mechanic's affairs, then the stallion was willing to forgive his earlier deviation from conduct. A broken visor and a few cuts were the least of the Seapony's problems.
Apertures on the Desolus' hull opened, its arsenal of guns sliding out and taking aim. One by one the cannons on its right side fired off energetic spheres of energy which exploded against the Draconix's body, searing the armor and blowing off chunks of scale.
In turn the Draconix deployed its own offense. From the hump on its shoulder, one large turret moved into position. It swung its long barrel around, the killing end locked onto the freighter. Electricity arced from the barrel, releasing a bright blue miasma as it readied its counterattack.
"Aw damn!" Romaz snarled when the warning flashed before her eyes. By her input, the Desolus angled itself to the side, moving downwards diagonally so that it was positioned underneath the cyborg dragon. The cannons on its left side aimed upwards and unleashed their barrage into the underside of the dragon.
In response, the cyborg rolled and angled itself down. Its thrusters flared and the dragon soared right past the Desolus, several of the cannons' shots missing their mark and soaring off into infinity. When it was below the freighter, the Draconix twirled about, aiming the Spell-core blaster at the bottom of the ship.
"Double damn!" she exclaimed.
Phineas bared his teeth, he couldn't stand just watching this happen. He turned and jetted from the bridge, seeing that there was no time to explain what was happening. He figured that he would help in the only way he could in such a dire circumstance.
***
"Open the cargo bay, Romaz!" the captain heard Phineas say several minutes later, or rather, demand.
"Startrot what are you-?!" she responded, only to hear the stallion's frantic words.
"There is no time to explain! You need to stay focused on flying this ship while I do what I can to keep that thing busy!"
"But wh-"
"Open the damn door!" Phineas barked. "And release the shuttle!"
"If you survive this I'm going to teach you a thing or two about respect!" Romaz hissed, but complied nonetheless.
The hold's outer door began to lower, red lights flashing inside the expansive chamber. Phineas was strapped into the shuttle, forelegs wrapped in the neuro-link sleeves. The small craft's engines fired up for the first time in 378 years and he took off, spinning the shuttle around and deftly speeding past the enormous crates the Desolus was loaded with from Gallopso.
He tore out into space and arced around the Desolus, the augmented dragon looming into his view. Phineas deployed the shuttle's phasers, sorely wishing he had gotten around to calibrating the guns. He buzzed by the dragon, the two guns mounted on the shuttle's lower hull peppering its hide with bright golden beams of magical energy before Phineas disengaged, twisting around and avoiding a swipe from the Draconix's glistening claws. They were surrounded by an intense magical field; like that of an energy blade. Such things were able to slice through even the strongest substances!
The shuttle came around for another pass, initially giving the cyborg a wide berth before closing in on one of its engines, beams scoring their hits and slicing across the hull plating. By time the dragon positioned itself to attack, the agile craft was already out of its strike range; its bulky heavy weaponry only fit for tracking large targets.
"Crafty one, aren't you?" Romaz mused once she caught on to the stallion's intentions. "Javic, hit that thing with all we've got!" she ordered the technician.
The Desolus dove, all of its guns bearing down on the Draconix. Explosions of light rippled out from where the blasts met their mark, stripping away at the dragon's body. Phineas frowned as he observed from afar. Cyborg or not, the dragon was still an Equestrian. For it to be used as a means to end in such a manner violated its rights to life itself!
"At least we could put it out of its misery..." Phineas thought, surprised that he was able to conceive of such a thing. If in destroying the machine, the creature would be killed, was it a matter of mercy or necessity?
He could not give it any more thought, for he was quickly losing synch with the shuttle. Refocusing his attention, he regained control of the craft and brought it around once again.
The dragon lashed out at the Desolus, the Spell-core blaster aimed right at the freighter's engine, threatening to fire right at that moment. The shuttle soared in, dual streams cutting across the dragon's neck and striking the weapon in its mouth. Sparks jumped as the beams ripped into the cannon, the precision weapons doing their damage swiftly. The shuttle was gone as quick as it came, leaving the dragon's energy-coated claws behind it.
The Draconix waved its head back and forth as the Spell-core cannon started to malfunction. The orb sustained by the pylons started to bulge and contract, destabilizing. The gathered energy was released gradually as a purple cloud which rolled out from the corners of the cyborg's jaws, rather than a spectacular explosion. Flashes of lightning went off within the mist that billowed out all around the Draconix, making approach via shuttle extremely perilous.
Where Phineas was unable to attack, the Desolus' cannons compensated, showering the cyborg with an explosive assault. Its engines went with a tremendous bang, its armor blown away and the Spell-cores ruptured. The explosion gouged a grievous injury into the sides of the Draconix, shredding its forelimbs apart. Phineas had to dodge the shard of metal that went flying, bringing back less than pleasant memories of the Iopteryx. He was never going to be free of them, he feared.
Charred flesh and machinery drifted once the explosion cleared, the electrical cloud dispersed by the spontaneous release of power. The guns of the freighter continued to hammer the remains of the cyborg, unrelenting. Before long, the enemy "ship" was torn apart entirely, reduced to bits of scale and metal to drift in space.
***
"Good going, Phineas!"
That was what he was greeted with when he returned to the Desolus. He landed the shuttle and the hold's door was closed behind him, with resounding praise from the Seaponies over his PDA. All of them except Tsubar. "Oh good," he thought bitterly as he undid the straps. "Did I get another rival?"
The canopy raised and he departed the shuttle with a short burn of his jetpack. Maybe in time he would be on better terms with the mechanic. Until then, his concern was learning the meaning of the attack. Just what was it that Tsubar did to warrant such... excessive force?
"... WHAT?!" Phineas blurted out in the bridge.
"Yep," Romaz said coolly. "It's about time you learned the galaxy's divided. Everyone wants a share bigger than everyone else's. When Earth fell and the Federation's turf was freed up? The story goes that everything was chaos. When things settled down, you had the fringe worlds... and the Hoof-Talons. Then you have those like us: Gaali, Javic, Uolix, Tsubar and I, who are trying to make our own living. Sometimes the things we have to do are... the things we have to do."
"So Tsubar's story-"
"A lie. You'll find that he's good at lying. Sometimes I think he wishes it were as simple as messing with a bunch of thugs, though."
"And Hoof-Talons is after you all..."
"When Gaali said your kind made themselves known the rest of the galaxy... boy did they do just that." Romaz said, then sighed deeply.
"Ponies and gryphons raiding ships and colonies... at first they were just pirates... then they evolved into something more. In a few years, they are an allegiance of scumbags and psychopaths," she explained, raising her Arcane-Manipulators to make a holographic representation of the galaxy; a complete version of the one Phineas had on the shuttle.
"You have the Yithith, Kilo, Ghanax, Shu'badi and so many others trying to put them down," said the Seapony, various parts of the map being highlighted as she named the other races of the galaxy. "But the Hoof-Talons went from a crime ring to a crime empire. They have been reigning terror across the stars no matter what has been done to stop them. You're lucky we found you instead of one of them."
"... And Tsubar did what he did to save you all? Even when he knew he'd be going against that?" Phineas inquired.
Romaz nodded. "Lost most of his body doing it, too. He's more machine than Seapony by now."
Phineas shifted his weight from side to side, apprehensive. He pawed at the floor, he stared up at the ceiling. He took deep breaths and exhaled loudly. He had even been pacing. He was trying to fortify himself for his next task; something that was monumentally important. Something he needed to do for the sake of all that was good in the galaxy...in the universe, at that. Something so incredibly great that he utterly feared the resentment that he was more than likely to receive.
He was going to have to apologize to Tsubar.
"Hindsight is such a bitch," Phineas thought as he continued mustering his resolve.
"I could always let him punch me in the face... but that might kill me."
He bared his teeth and stood rigid at the door to the mechanic's chamber, as if he were standing at attention after a drill at the academy. "Stop acting like a foal, damn it," he scolded himself.
He raised his PDA and opened communications with the mechanic.
"Tsubar?" he said, cautiously assessing his situation. Chances are Tsubar was going to tell him to go away... which meant he had to disobey his wishes in a way that didn't piss off the cyborg anymore than he would be already.
"What?" came the Seapony's reply. While he thought this might have been a sign of hostility, Phineas remembered that his earliest impression of Tsubar was his rudeness.
"You mind if I come in?" Phineas pressed on.
"Why the hell are you asking. No one else ever asks."
"Because I feel like a gigantic dick, that's why, you asshole." Phineas replied in his mind. He carried on wordlessly so as to not sour things before they began. He put in a command on his wrist device and opened the door to the engineering deck. The red lighting washed over Phineas' gray suit.
He stepped into the chamber and the door slid shut behind him. He walked the short distance into the room, coming up on Tsubar at his large work station before long. The mechanic was not wearing his helmet at the time, but was in the process of putting it back on. Phineas saw the back of the Shu'badi's head, catching the most fleeting of fleeting glimpses of what the alien truly looked like underneath his suit. He didn't see any obvious signs of mechanical repair...but Romaz didn't say Tsubar's head was affected by his sacrifice. There was another artifact of interest as well.
"A fin? Was that a fin? I totally saw a fin..."
Tsubar turned around, regarding Phineas through a mended visor. "So why are you here?" Tsubar asked abruptly, not straying too far from his table. Phineas frowned at the fact Tsubar made no effort to hide that he was trying to keep away from him. "Does the big, brave hero want to be thanked personally? If that is the case then allow me to-"
"I'm sorry," Phineas stated just as bluntly. "Well that was rather easy..."
Tsubar paused and cocked his head. "That it?" he inquired curiously after a few moments.
"Yes," Phineas responded.
"And what, pray tell, are you sorry for?" Tsubar said in a way that practically beamed the image of the wry, vindictive smile the Seapony had on his face.
"Romaz told me what you did," Phineas stated. The way Tsubar jumped slightly showed that wasn't the response he was expecting. Had things been different, the silver stallion would have enjoyed wrecking Tsubar's attempt to annoy him. But Tsubar wasn't Lightning Streak. He was an entirely different caliber of pony...Seapony...creature.
"I... have done many things," Tsubar said, attempting to redirect the conversation.
"You're a hero. I'm sorry that I ever said... and did those things. I was way out of line, no matter how upset a Federation operative gets they should never resort to violence. I have disappointed my... former superiors... and you, my crewmate."
"I don't need your Federation 'honor' bullshit, Phineas," Tsubar replied. He turned around and started to busy himself with the various bits of scrap and machinery he had lying on the table. Blue sparks started to fly when he got his laser tools out.
Phineas grunted in response. "Alright then. An apology from pony to Shu'badi, then."
"Get it over with," Tsubar said gruffly. Suddenly, he was not in the mood for games and banter.
"I understand that you were only trying to help me. You couldn't have possibly known we would've come across those ponies... and the Draconix..."
"You didn't even touch your drink," Tsubar said flatly.
"No. No I did not," Phineas replied. "And I regret nothing of the sort," he thought.
"Dick," Tsubar said offhoofedly.
"I was just so... angry. I couldn't have believed Equestria had changed so drastically and for the worse... then I started acting like those horrid ponies myself... I forgot something important, then."
"What was that?" Tsubar replied without looking up from his work.
Phineas walked around and took his usual place at the workstation. From his toolbox he pulled out his Harmonizer and gathered his own share of parts and components. He started to put the parts together as he continued speaking.
"I forgot that good still exists in this future. The majority of Equestrians may have been hardened and turned cynical by their surroundings, but good can still exist. Great minds keep the fringe worlds operating. Good souls find a wayward remnant from the past and take him in on their ship," Phineas said.
"... For some reason I doubt you're okay with that," Tsubar replied.
Phineas paused for a short while then nodded. "I'm not. If things were ideal for me, there would still be an Earth for me to go to, with an Equestria many times more grand than the one I knew 378 years ago. But the universe doesn't pander to my preferences and the reality of things is far from gemstones and picnics. If I am going to adapt to the present, I must accept this."
"Accept the shit with the Hoof-Talons?"
"Accept. Not like. Not tolerate, but accept," Phineas responded.
"Accept... but not tolerate..." Tsubar said, laying his arms down on the table to consider the stallion's words. "... Oh... wow. What? No. No, you get that out of your head right now."
"You are all being hunted by the Hoof-Talons for what you did. You saved your friends by giving your body up!"
"No. No. A thousand times, no, damn it!"
"They were all captured and were going to be experimented on! If you hadn't done what you did, they might not be the people they are today!"
"No one should have to endure that amount of suffering."
"We can keep on fighting them, together. We can make something better-!"
"For fuck's sake Startrot!" Tsubar snapped. "Hundreds of ponies and hundreds of non-ponies oppose the Hoof-Talons every minute that passes. Many of those people are dead by time I finish speaking, and they are the lucky ones. I don't even want to think about the ones they deem worthy enough to take alive. You don't just fight the Hoof-Talons. You strike out against them once or twice then you run and hide before they can close in. And let me tell you - in case you don't know - they are closing in on us."
He sighed loudly, whereas Phineas only sat down.
"So are we to keep running, then?" the silver stallion queried. "Because I've lived the life of a drifter. It's not a good life. I can't imagine that the life of fear is any better."
"You don't know what it is that you're standing against," Tsubar stated with a shake of his head.
"Then tell me! Show me, teach me, give every bit of knowledge that you know and I swear to you I will know the Hoof-Talons just as well as you do before long."
"That isn't saying much. I don't even know if you could handle this ship, much less go fighting the good fight-"
"I will make you eat those words like Uolix made them special!" Phineas said suddenly.
"Where the hell are you going!?" Tsubar shouted, floating after Phineas after he had gotten up from the table and went galloping further into the chamber.
"I'm gonna find something to calibrate, and you can't do anything to stop me!" Phineas yelled from deep within the Desolus.
***
"Something to calibrate" turned into reworking the ship's entire energy management mainframe. Phineas' Harmonizer hummed and crackled when he put the last terminal back together. He stepped back to admire his hoofwork. The hours had gotten away from him by time he was finished.
"...You're not a pony. You're some freakish...robotic pony," Tsubar said flatly.
"So, I see you've finished your meal. Do you want seconds? Just tell me I can't do something again. I dare you," Phineas said, feeling his pride well up within.
"Alright, alright. That's pretty amazing; you didn't electrocute yourself or anything. So you can mess around with the ship's systems without completely frying yourself or anyone else aboard," Tsubar said.
"Damn right!" Phineas replied.
"But Hoof-Talons aren't a Spell-core bypass or some mana-flux capacitor," the mechanic warned. "They are the closest things to monsters anyone can be, and I'm pretty sure its because they were born that way."
"I'm listening," Phineas said, eagerly awaiting an explanation.
"During that run-in our merry band had with them," Tsubar began to say; "I came across this place where they were holding others... in pods. It was like they were in stasis, but then I came across a terminal which described experiments with artificial birthing and... hybridization. It suggests that Hoof-Talons sustains itself through the fabrication of its own troops and laborers."
"... What in the actual fuck?" Phineas deadpanned. "They manufacture their workforce? How the hell does that even work!?"
"I didn't have time to snoop around to find out more; I had my friends to rescue... but I made sure to terminate the batch of test tube babies. I suppose that's just one of many things they want me dead for."
Phineas started to pace once more. "Hybrids... what kind of laborers were they trying to make...?"
"Better ones," Tsubar said matter of factly.
"Obviously, but from what?"
"Hoof-Talons," said Tsubar. "Ponies and gryphons. Super pegasi."
"... That is horrifying."
"Congrats. You've described Hoof-Talons as a whole with only three words!" Tsubar said with some biting humor in his words.
Phineas frowned. Hoof-Talons was sounding more and more like an example of science gone rampant. They had no reservations towards making fellow creatures their tools of destruction, the Draconix was proof of that. News that they were attempting to rewrite what it means to be a pony was even more disturbing. Super pegasi? A pony-gryphon crossbreed? How could any sort of Equestrian become so depraved?
"And this is the group of scumbags and psychopaths that have taken an interest in you and the others?" Phineas commented.
"I think you've finally grasped the severity of the situation," Tsubar replied.
***
Phineas sat before the table tapping a hoof against its surface, deep in thought. Tsubar worked in spite of this, the sounds of his arcane tools distant in Phineas's mind. Hoof-Talons was an abomination. A great blight on the name of Equestria, they were. His anger -while present- was something he made sure to keep in check. He could not allow passion to cloud his judgement. He needed to think this through to the end.
"They tried killing Tsubar in Starblazer."
Though the Seapony's explanation for why those pegasi threatened his life was a lie, his reasoning that they were following him since he left the Desolus could not be shaken. They definitely were not waiting in the bar...were they? Unless they were future seers, how would they have known Tsubar would have been there?
"Tsubar, you don't go to Eztraal's very often, do you?" he inquired.
"Nah. I frequent the bar scene but I wander in between them. They're a dime a dozen and help keep the stress of mostly-impending death away," the Seapony replied.
"Lovely," Phineas muttered, going back to his contemplation.
"They were following us, without a doubt." he confirmed. "The pegasi and the Draconix."
It occurred to him then that while he opposed Hoof-Talons on a moral standpoint, he had entered this so-called war with them far earlier. Earlier than when he knew there was a war to be fought. By killing those agents he had brought the conflict to himself; whether or not it was irony was something he could analyze at a later time and whether or not it justified taking lives was something he could not bother debating with himself.
It was going to happen. He was a space explorer turned impromptu soldier! Such a thing would have made him laugh and laugh hard 378 years ago, but here he was; aboard an alien vessel caught in a divide between Equestrians and the rest of the damn galaxy!
"You know, Tsubar. If I ever thought of the future becoming anything like it is right now, I would have totally guessed gryphons had something to do with it," Phineas said offhoofedly. His gravely serious thought had turned more jovial, as if he had discovered some greater comedy about the whole thing.
"And why's that? Gryphons were known for shit like this back in your time?" the mechanic queried without looking up from his work.
"They were known to be territorial, fiercely competitive, overwhelmingly critical and brash in practice. Which is why they made such damn good cadets," Phineas replied, recounting the days of the academy. "I had to go up against gryphons. Give me a donkey. Give me a buffalo. Hell, give me a minotaur any day of the week! I'd rather compete with them before having to best a gryphon!"
"Sounds like they gave you a hard time," Tsubar commented, grunting afterwards.
"Yes. Didn't stop me from kicking their feathered asses though," Phineas said, frowning seconds afterwards. "Say what you will about them... the gryphons were motivated and tactical. Hoof-Talons is just what happens when that drive is put to less than admirable use..."
Tsubar snorted. "Some drive," he started to say. "They terrorize the galaxy but no one knows if they have any sort of end goal. They slaughter, pillage, use their prisoners as test subjects, rape; their crimes are endless. They are monsters for the sake of being monsters."
Phineas shook his head. There was no such thing as "being a monster for the sake of being a monster". The monsters of the stars had their own natures and drives which no one could truly grasp, power which governed them that only the likes of the princesses could have understood -if they even knew about it. It was a dark, unknown phantom that had undeniable malevolence to it; but one that was ultimately a mystery.
A mystery that ran deep.
"There was once a time, in the far... far past of Equestria," Phineas began, "a being known as Discord ruled... a being of chaos that caused strife before the princesses Celestia and Luna imprisoned him."
"Thanks for the history lesson, friend." Tsubar chimed in.
"No one knows why he did the things he did... other than it was his nature to do so."
Tsubar looked up finally, beginning to see the vaguest of points the silver stallion was trying to make. "... Go on." he stated with some eagerness.
"I don't know if my logic holds any water... or air since we're in space and all, but I know that it is the nature of Equestria to do good. Hell, it's the nature of all the sentient races in this galaxy... in the universe even. It is hard to explain... but... there is a virtue within all of us. Something that makes us all good. We don't go out into the stars to wage war and spread misery," Phineas said, sharing his firm beliefs. "We can lose our way. We can falter and make mistakes, but in the end we are all alive, aren't we? We would help each other make something great before we tear each other apart to live in the ruins of the aftermath, right?"
"I think that's one huge-ass conjecture, but go on mister preacher-pony," Tsubar replied.
"But there are things greater than us, Equestrian, Shu'badi, Ghanax or otherwise. Things like Discord, which can disrupt reality itself. Things which can... negate virtue for the sake of causing havoc," Phineas continued.
Tsubar slammed a Manipulator down against the table. "Ah ha!" he exclaimed once things had become clear for him. "You think Hoof-Talons was created by one of those things turning a bunch of ponies and gryphons rogue?"
"It's more than likely. I've... lived... through such a thing," Phineas replied.
"Explain. Explain right now." Tsubar replied, echoing that conversation the stallion had with him that time ago.
Phineas looked down at the table and let out a heavy sigh. "My starship... the Iopteryx... it was destroyed by an actual Iopteryx after we rescued a pony from another Federation ship. I wasn't there to see it but I was told what it did. It was... disfigured and misshapen and spoke in some unknown language. I believe that pony was corrupted by something... made a pawn or something. I think it was what brought on the attack in the first place."
Tsubar was the one tapping on the table now. "... If a Star Terror could turn a pony into a puppet..."
"There's nothing stopping them from turning a whole legion into a force of destruction. A bunch of pirates suddenly becoming an empire all their own? One that strives to produce a new breed of super-pony? One that turns dragons and who knows what else into cyborgs?"
Phineas brought a hoof crashing down, making a few parts on the table jump.
"The worst part about it? Even if Hoof-Talons was a product of a Star Terror, it makes no difference. They still wouldn't have an end goal. Discord's only motivation was causing chaos. Nothing more, nothing less."
"You said your princesses defeated him," Tsubar stated quite plainly.
"Yeah?" Phineas replied.
"How?"
"... The Elements of Harmony. Friendship."
"Ah, the magic of friendship," the Seapony replied. Tsubar hummed thoughtfully and added a few minutes later: "On that count; I suppose we're fucked."
"Way to keep your spirits up, Tsubar," Phineas grumbled. He got up and started to make his way to the chamber's exit.
"And where are you going now?"
"I'm going to do some overdue calibration on my shuttle, it'll need them for the things yet to come," Phineas replied without stopping. "Maybe I could talk to Romaz for a bit and discuss ways we can keep ourselves away from Hoof-Talons afterwards. Like you said, they're closing in... and they're doing so startlingly fast."
The armored space suit was in a neat pile at the entrance to the bottom section of the shuttle, just in case there was another emergency. A few feet away, Phineas pried into the port side cannon storage unit, his Harmonizer's prongs crackling and flashing as the silver stallion tended to the weapon. Various panels were suspended in an orange levitation field sustained by the Harmonizer while Phineas rebuilt the phaser, his gaze hardened with his concentration.
"Now if Shu'badi spell converters work like so... I should be able to reconfigure this spell-matrix to a new focusing frequency..." he muttered to himself as he worked, combining the best of Equestrian and Seapony engineering to update his craft.
"Redirect mana flow to- oh geez!" Phineas said, pulling himself away as sporadic arcs of golden electricity jumped from the phaser cannon. Phineas quickly made adjustments, prodding at the machinery with the Harmonizer, which in turn ceased the spell reflux. "Right then," he noted. "Maintain mana flow exactly as it is right now."
The minutes passed him by as he toiled away with the complex assembly of magic and technology. He pulled up his PDA, using the diagrams of Shu'badi machinery to emulate their functionality with Federation equipment -in effect reverse engineering the Desolus on small scale.
The task was a daunting one, rife with mishaps and mistakes which Phineas had to correct as he went along. Many ponies of the past and many more from the future would have found it too much to bear with limited resources and preparation. Not all ponies were as astute as Phineas Startrot, however.
However, his mind was not completely focused on optimizing the shuttle for combat. Even as he upgraded the second cannon, improved Spell-core energy output and shield capacity, questions kept nagging him. Questions he brought up himself when he told Tsubar about Discord.
"Were the Elements used when Earth was being destroyed? Did they fail? Was a Star Terror too powerful for the magic of friendship to best? Are there Elements of Harmony on other worlds?"
When he went over Tsubar's reaction to their mentioning...he inferred the answer to the last inquiry. He imagined that they would be completely different than the ones he knew of on Earth, yet still carrying out the same function. Just like how Federation tech clashed with Shu'badi tech, yet both produced craft capable of spaceflight.
"On that count; I suppose we're fucked."
Tsubar's casual dismissal was notably unnerving. Either Tsubar had shown a new level of cynicism...or the elements had been used before and proved ineffectual against the Hoof-Talons. Worse still, perhaps disarray had clutched the galaxy to such an extent that the Elements were rendered inert across all worlds.
***
"Oh, I hate being right sometimes..." That was the stallion's reaction when he asked Romaz about it over his PDA. He was lying on his back upon his cot, spacesuit on the floor just underneath the bed.
"Are you certain? I mean, your kind can live for ages...!" Phineas argued.
"And we've lived many an age where the Elements on our homeworld have stopped working, Startrot," she replied, as if saying so was of little consequence, as if she were talking about the weather and not the most powerful form of magic Phineas knew of.
"But why have they stopped working? Why is it that all of the elements have failed? It makes no sense!" Phineas cried out. It astounded him thoroughly how grim the reality of this future really was. What was hope to a realm of savages?
"War, Phineas," Romaz said matter of factly. "This galaxy has been at war for centuries. The amount of hatred and bloodshed is like a poison. Such negativity can choke even the most pure and good things. Even the Elements of Harmony mean nothing if all that remain are havoc and animosity."
"But the Elements are supposed to be the opposite of that! When all six are together and their bearers are true-!"
"You've seen Gallopso. You've seen how the general populace is, correct?" Romaz stated.
"Y-yes" Phineas stammered, caught off guard by the gruff change of topic.
"How many Equestrians did you see there that could call themselves true Element bearers?" the Seapony inquired.
"I see your point," Phineas replied somewhat bitterly.
He heard Romaz sigh from her end of the comm-link.
"It's the same across all the worlds. There is no true harmony in this galaxy. Only war, fear, and everything everyone does to try to forget that. Tsubar has his booze, Gaali has her recreation chamber, Javic has Uolix."
"Javic and Uolix are a thing? I could have sworn Javic had some feelings for me... or am I projecting Prancer onto her...?" Phineas pondered.
"And myself... I have my ship. Staying in space most of the time, you only have to deal with enemy ships and debris. Everything else is the stars and planets to admire."
Phineas chuckled. "You know... at one point I would have agreed with you, that just admiring the beauty out there would have been enough to keep me happy... but now I'm not so sure. For most of my life, I've known struggle. For a time, I thought being the best of the best would be the end to it all. I thought that... if I could make myself into something better, all my problems would be gone."
Phineas drew a deep breath and continued: "Gaali said I act the way I do because the good in me cannot stand to see so much wrong. I am compelled... to fix things. I fix things to the best of my ability with tools and knowledge and that worked for me until I woke up nearly four centuries in the future. Now I want to make a difference but... it's clear to me now. I am just one pony in a very large galaxy with problems that dwarf me absolutely... to face them would be like standing in front of an Iopteryx and staring into the depths of all of its light."
"Are you... giving up hope?" Romaz asked tentatively. Though she did not know the silver stallion long, his boldness has always been what defined him. She did not expect him to ever resign from his zealous demeanor in such a way.
"Not giving up hope. I'm just... accepting my place. In the Federation, we were all encouraged to be heroes, examples of pride for our nation. But I'm no role model or example for anyone. I'm just a pony that wants to live decently for myself and for others. And though I am not perfect and I am nothing close to being the best of us, I pledge to lead a life of goodness and righteousness. At least the spirit of Equestria can last just a little bit longer... like a waning moon."
"So you've changed your mind about going after Hoof-Trots?" Romaz questioned.
"No. I plan on fighting them and any other injustice I may come across. I'm just going to accept that just a few good deeds will not be enough to undo hundreds of years of misery and pain. But I'm not planning on saving the galaxy. I'm planning to live as myself. And living as myself means fighting the shit that doesn't sit right with me."
"I have to say, our futures are-"
That was all Phineas heard from Romaz before the ship shook and the explosions drowned out her voice. Split-seconds later, there was nothing but dead air being transmitted over the comms.
***
The silver stallion's mouth gaped, his eyes were wide. He was locked into stunned silence, the Desolus continuing to be rocked by explosions against its hull. He was just speaking with her. He was just speaking with her! And just like that she was gone! It was an abrupt and brutal loss without any warning to betray it's occurrence until it was far too late.
"Act."
He looked to the PDA screen, bringing up the list of active communicators. Romaz's feed was missing. Gaali's was missing. Javic's was missing. The ship was without its captain, sensor analyst and defense technician. Phineas brought up the system list as a hologram. The projection of the Desolus had it's entire forward end colored a dark red hue. There was no readout available for that portion of the craft. It was gone -completely blown away.
He wondered what it was that could have been responsible. Spell-core blaster? A Star Terror? The persistent explosions pounding against the ship supported the former. The Desolus was found yet again, but this time Hoof-Talons was the one to hit first. And what a hit it was, for the ship was without guidance or defense.
"What in the name of Ghu'arat!?" Uolix shouted over the comms. "Forward blast doors just deployed! Power instability across all levels!"
"Escape pods! Now!" Tsubar ordered from the engineering deck. "Our ship has been critically damaged. There is nothing we can do for it now."
"But what about all that cargo...?" Uolix asked with a quivering voice.
"... Tanis won't be getting its shipment this time, Uolix. It's time to go."
"Romaz? Gaali?.... Javic? Oh please, for the great Ghu'arat not Javic!" the Seapony cried.
"Uolix, you need to be strong and keep your head now more than ever. If we are going to get out of this alive, I need you with me completely. This goes for you too, Phineas," Tsubar said, his voice calm and level in spite of the circumstances. "We'll all meet up at the port side escape pod, deal?"
"D-deal," Uolix replied, audibly fighting back her sadness.
Phineas bared his teeth. Could he really let this aggression go unpunished? Could he truly flee? Once again he was thrust to the Iopteryx, watching as its systems failed in droves on his PDA screen. He remembered that drive -a motivation unlike any he felt before. One that made him put himself aside for the good of others; the one that had him running through the darkening corridors to the emergency bay to save the souls trapped in the malfunctioning launch chute.
He helped his fellow crewmates escape doom in the past, for however fleeting a time it must have been in the grand scheme of things. He would be damned if he wasn't going to do something now: the only thing he could do.
"No can do," Phineas replied.
"Startrot, what the fuck!?" Tsubar snapped.
"I'm going out there. Be it Hoof-Talons or something else entirely, I'm going out there. I'll try to keep them occupied so you two can launch without pursuit."
"But-" he heard Uolix try to protest.
"Damn it, do we have the time to debate this!? We sure as fuck don't!" Phineas barked. He never did have the compassion or patience to lead. "Launch when I give you the all-clear," he ordered the two Seaponies.
"R-right..." Uolix said meekly.
"Phineas..." he heard Tsubar start to say. "...It's been too short, friend. Too short."
"So long. And good luck," the silver stallion said as he started to suit up. At least he was able to say goodbye this time around.
"And the same to you."
***
Once again he sat at the controls of the shuttle, strapped in save for his forelegs. "Time to put these guns to the test."
He put in a command on his PDA, releasing the cargo bay doors and deactivating the holding clamps on the small craft. The giant door retracted for what would be the very last time, the vast star-dotted blackness awaiting through a ring of flame and smoke which formed a choking screen. Phineas put his legs in the neuro-link sleeves.
The shuttle tore right through the smoky veil and out of the crippled freighter leaving dual streaks of purple from the wing mounted engines. He was greeted with a single ship; one that was slightly smaller than the cargo transport.
The cruiser class ship was an angular V shaped craft with curved, crescent-shaped wings that extended outwards from the side. The plating of the craft was a dark gray with sapphire highlights, the taloned insignia the pegasi had on their armor on either wing. Its cannons were mounted on the underside of its hull, following the sleek contours of its construction. Three exhaust chutes marked where its Spell-core shone with bright white radiance.
"What? No dragons!?" Phineas snarled, bringing the black and white shuttle around for a sweeping pass on the cruiser. The larger craft's engines fired up, a blinding flash of light marking when it sped off, swerving itself around in tandem with the silver stallion. The two vessels engaged in some strange twisting dance. This was not combat. The Hoof-Talons were showing off! They were toying with him!
"So I see you've learned that you need to keep up with me, huh?" growled Phineas, breaking off into a roll abruptly. The cruiser shot out ahead of him, allowing him to target its engines and fire.
Rather than a continuous beam of golden energy, the agile craft's phaser cannons fired alternating, high speed orbs, the explosive shots ringing out their hits against the enemy. While not as damaging as the blasters installed on larger craft, the guns were exceptionally powerful for things equipped to a Federation shuttle.
The cruiser tore off to the side as well, corkscrewing through the vacuum. It's cannon turrets swiveled around on their mounts when the craft was upside down and they fired their crimson volleys when it was righted again.
The shuttle dipped and and ascended spasmodically, Phineas' work on the engines enabling the shuttle to outpace the blasters. With smug satisfaction, he thought: "Even when you think you're ready for me, you aren't!"
He broke off again, soaring over the craft but not moving over to the other side. The cruiser attempted to roll several times as it hurtled through the void; the tenacious stallion fighting them all the while. He kept the shuttle centered relative to the cruiser, matching its every maneuver effortlessly. In doing so he was leading it farther and farther away from the wreck of the Desolus.
"Launch! Launch now!" Phineas barked to his Shu'badi comrades.
The pod's departure was the jettisoning of a section of hull plating, the whole thing being a large funnel shape. A seam spread across the midsection, the pieces separating with a puff of vapor. When they fell apart, the teardrop-shaped capsule shot out, the broad end being the front and the engine being the tapered one. Trailing out from behind the tiny pod were six Arcane-Manipulators, the mechanical tendrils being longer than the escape vehicle itself.
Phineas would not see this. His tears welled at the corners of his eyes, knowing he had sent them off and it was not probable that he was going to see them again.
"Alright you fuckers... time to give you a true blast from the Celestia-damned past!" Phineas bellowed. The exhaust of the twin engines flared up and the shuttle streaked on ahead, pulling in front of the cruiser. The scarlet tide came as expected, proximity alerts crowding Phineas' HUD.
The shuttle's magical shielding flickered into existence with each shot that hit, grazed or glanced off of it. Beneath his helmet, his lips were curled, his eyes fixed in a glare.
His engines cut out then, Phineas leaving himself to drift ahead of the cruiser at insane speed. For this to work, he had to be quicker than quick. One engine fired a pulse, spinning the shuttle around, the opposite side firing a pulse to negate the velocity. The result: Phineas facing the onslaught being pelted at him -looking dead ahead at the cockpit of the Hoof-Talon craft.
"Do you really want it!?" he roared. He unleashed the engines' full power then. The cruiser peeled away, rolling then banking, barely dodging the shuttle. The much more agile and speedy craft completed a pass before the maneuver was ever finished however. Phineas came up from its underside, his improved guns slamming the cruiser's turrets. One by one they exploded into a ball of flame and electricity, the shuttle screeching off of the cruiser's rear end less than a minute later.
"I don't give a damn if you don't want it! You're gonna fucking get it!"
The cruiser leveled out with Phineas coming back around again at speed.
"This is for Romaz. This is for Gaali. This is for Javic. And this is for everyone before me who never got the chance to do this!" the silver stallion roared, the two cannons drawing in yellow streaks of light as they channeled their energies.
For a split second, orbs appeared at the ends of the blasters which exploded forwards in the form of broad beams. They swept across the aft of the cruiser, slicing into the engines and setting them ablaze.
Phineas shot straight up as the explosions rippled down the length of the cruiser, expelling debris and fragments in all directions.
***
Awaken pilot upon detection of anomalies.
Seek energy signature HCG-87: "HOOF-TALONS"
The projection of the shuttle's autopilot directives flickered away. The spacesuit was stowed in the utility closet, as was Phineas' PDA. His toolboxes, containing the crowbar and Magi-flux Harmonizer also found their places in it once again. He closed the door on his things with a knowing expression on his face. There was no sense in despair, no sense in challenging it. There were only his last thoughts; his pledge. When he woke up again, he would be a soldier.
"And a tear shed for the things left behind. Lets hope I won't be away for long," Phineas thought as he lowered himself into the stasis pod. The screen closed over him. The light came and swept him away, blinding, all encompassing.
An urchin trudging down at the bottom Caught up in the tar Heart so bold Dreaming of the stars Knows he’s got a story to be told But doesn’t know where to start He only knows his name is Phineas Startrot.
And Phineas Startrot, The one Equestria forgot, Lived the life of a drifter Moving hither to thither Lost without direction No direction, no soul Caught up in everything with no sense of control This life had no meaning and he wanted more Intrepid Startrot just had to break the mold.
Enter the Federation The pride of the nation Join and do your part To one day stand with a hero's heart Surmount every trial With every trial comes strength No victory gained without going great lengths.
He pushed with a vigor; He promised himself. He stood out from the rest, Dedication and discipline Through study he passed every single test. In his blood is determination He had to be the best.
But he went too far. To pursue his quest Virtues he marred. Patience and understanding, Understanding and compassion Were things the pony never thought of having. Not fit to lead, Made him a Chief Engineer To learn the traits he would need.
But fate is so cruel! He never had the chance! Phineas was cast out into space A victim of circumstance. Few would fare well in his situation without falter; Not after seeing true horror. Haunted he will be on his journey so stellar. Time ticks away, stories written with no author.
All that he knew is dust in the void. A galaxy at war with virtues devoid. Out from the darkness an old enemy makes itself known. But there is a reckoning approaching, In time there only will When the one forgotten rises from his throne And as they are so willing to kill As their fury makes them blind So too will he pay them back in kind.
The shuttle was a distant shadow in the radiance of a blue star surrounded by many worlds. Somewhere among the millions of miles of the solar system, a battle was going to take place.
He felt the cool air rush into his lungs with his gasp before the white light subsided. He opened his eyes, the black expanding in the blue, his thoughts bursting forth as if they had been dammed. With awareness came revelation. "They have been reigning terror across the stars no matter what has been done to stop them. You're lucky we found you instead of one of them," Romaz once said.
"They found me? I found them."
His once inactive body burned with anticipation. He looked over to the pod's panel. Vitals were stellar. Time elapsed: five days.
"Not long. Not long at all, Startrot," Phineas muttered to himself. Immediately afterward, he pushed the screen up and vaulted out of the stasis pod, his stiff joints sounding off in unison. By time the room's lights brightened in full, the shuttle's pilot was gone, already passing through the doorway. There was no time wasted in getting to the cockpit, there he was rummaging in the locker, pulling out the gray plated armor and suiting up. Around his right wrist went his PDA. On his flanks went his toolboxes; after all, a good engineer always had their tools on them. Even if that engineer had the mindset of a warrior, mad like a bat out of hell.
Phineas then strapped himself into his seat, the shuttle's displays and readouts popping up and arranging themselves across its screen. His face beneath the expressionless helmet was tranquil and still, hiding the storm which brewed within him. A storm of thoughts thundering through his mind, contemplation of tactics, of fear, of retribution.
Target HCG-87: HOOF-TALONS discovered the ship reported with a projection. It was followed by a hologram of the Hoof-Talon vessel that it came across. Another Draconix; a large dragon enslaved and bound by the will of magi-tech. It looked like a crocodile moving through its aquatic domain as it powered through space, its body rigid like an arrow with its limbs held off to the side. Its claws did not give off their deadly glow. In fact, the "craft" seemed like it was simply going off on its routine rounds, whatever they may be. It and its controllers were oblivious to the pony hounding after them.
"That will change soon enough..."
It was no fault of the Hoof-Talons that they overlooked the ship. It had been coasting through space, occasionally adjusting its heading as per the instructions Phineas left it to carry out. As it closed in on the cyborg, the ship appeared no different from a piece of debris hurtling through deep space for its energy signature was so miniscule.
The same could not be said of the enemy "vessel", however. Its engines were burning bright, the Spell-cores making it all too easy to track the cyborg. To most, that would have been enough to warrant mass exodus. None wished to be in the path of the feared Hoof-Talons, the scourge of the galaxy! Why should they have to worry about such trivial things such as stealth? Surely their might meant they could annihilate any so foolish as to actually oppose them!
This day would be a day of reckoning. Not too long ago a cruiser class vessel was felled by a shuttle. Now, that very shuttle would slay a dragon.
"And all the evil in the galaxy will learn to fear Phineas Startrot..." thought the silver stallion bitterly. "And Luna was smiling down at me every time I pointed my telescope at the sky."
***
Explosions of purple light marked the activation of the shuttle in full, the black and white vessel tearing across the distance between it and its much larger enemy in minutes. Its approach was rife with phaser fire from its extended cannons, alternating orbs of gold smashing against the dark hide of the Draconix. The cyborg dragon turned itself over, seeing the trails left by the speedy ship. It turned its head toward where it had zipped off to, the thing a speck in the beast's red gaze.
A speck which was getting larger by the second -Phineas was coming in for another pass! The phasers battered the face of the cyborg, the blasts going off right before its eyes. The dragon shook its head and quickly oriented itself to return fire, its engines flaring up to turn it around to where the shuttle had gone off to.
It locked onto the small craft, a white triangular reticle hovering over Phineas' shuttle in the Draconix's vision. Alien symbols and numerals appeared on either side of it, complex calculations being computed in nanoseconds. With that, plating on the dragon's back lifted and retreated, openings from which turrets and light laser arrays rose into place.
The immediate darkness was lit up with a thrilling display of power, beams streaking toward the shuttle, Phineas deftly weaving through the brightly colored streams of energy and dodging the blazing spheres that made his phasers look downright paltry in comparison.
Things had heated up awfully fast! This Draconix was much better equipped than the one Phineas fought before. Was it a direct result of his actions then? Or was this "ship" just meant to counter agile enemies? The shuttle's magical shielding rippled with each hit. It was being depleted at an alarming rate, even with Phineas' upgrades. The silver stallion bared his teeth as he watched his readouts, warnings starting to appear. Had he been too impulsive? Had he picked a fight that was beyond his capability?
He grunted after an explosion of magical energy dispersed across the shuttle's shield and rocked the shuttle, the lights in the cockpit flickering. It soared out of a crackling expansion of sallow colored electricity, its dancing bolts reaching out in all directions. Just being near it was sapping the shuttle's Spell-core!
"Oh you clever bastards... what's that supposed to be? A Spell-core disruptor?" Phineas muttered angrily under his breath. "I'll admit you've got some fancy toys, but I don't think you know just what it is you're up against!"
The purple streams of the shuttle's engines jumped to a searing level of brightness, almost white with purple at their outer fringes. The shuttle roared out of the Draconix's line of fire, flying around the machine-animal in a wide arc. The cyborg's engines flared up again to match the smaller ship, the Draconix's bulk being turned about, its weapons unending with their assault.
It was a mistake Phineas relished greatly. He redirected the surplus power from his engines, the exhaust reverting back to the incandescent purple as he returned the aggression with a golden barrage. By time the Draconix cancelled its own momentum and repositioned itself to attack, the shuttle was out of its firing range. The cyborg had lost its hold on the agile craft.
Phineas had the advantage once again.
He wasted no time in his attack, twirling around the Draconix and lining himself for another pass. The turrets started to swivel around to face the shuttle, only to explode into magical flame, the charged phaser beams cutting across the dragon's back. One by one they burst into a shower of shrapnel and singed metal.
"And now for the engine- hey! What gives!?"
The Draconix's engines fired up, belching a plume of hot reds and oranges and twisting around so that it was facing away from the black and white ship. Phineas was stunned -so much so that he had desynchronized with the ship! The almighty Hoof-Talons, bane of all...was fleeing? Fleeing from him!? For some reason the thought ignited Phineas' blood and made him see red. How dare they try to run!? They were destroyers of lives and practitioners of atrocities! They did not deserve mercy and Phineas was not going to show them any! Though he might have started this particular battle, the Hoof-Talons started the galactic war centuries ago!
Did they only ride of the tide of victory? Did they never consider defeat, especially a defeat brought about by a lone combatant? Such arrogance surely deserved punishment!
Phineas wrangled the mental link between him and the shuttle and took off in hot pursuit of the departing Draconix. He closed in like a hunting hound, bearing down on his query, hammering it with phaser fire. This continued for the entirety of the escape attempt, the Draconix attempting to out maneuver the shuttle and Phineas blasting away at the dragon, causing further internal damage in the gun ports and whittling away at the engines.
In time, the Draconix was on a course for a nearby planet -a last ditch effort to evade the furious marauder. As it skimmed across the atmosphere, Phineas hit it with charged phaser blasts, rupturing one of its engines in a violent explosion. Smoke billowed out from the stricken cyborg as it streaked across the world's skies, rapidly heating up. Its dark hide started to glow like the exhaust from its rockets.
***
It was a frigid planet of rock, ice and snow. Dark gray clouds blotted out the sun and pelted the ground below with white frost, burying the alien planet with snow in a perpetual frozen storm. Glaciers dominated the landscape, as they were the only things not utterly buried by the frozen onslaught; them and mountains, the rock faces so covered in snow and ice that they were practically glaciers in their own right. The wind howled, whirlwinds swept the tundra's dunes. The surface of this world was dark.
Then came the falling dragon, which punched through the cloud cover as a plummeting star. Its body was alight, burning up through the sky. At its front was a compression cone, the dome accompanied by smoke and steam. Trailing it were these huge wisps where the moisture in the air around it was instantly vaporized. The shuttle came afterwards, flying through the ring left in the clouds before they went rolling back into place, engulfing the world and continuing their reign of the skies.
Phineas dove after the falling giant, the vertical stabilizer deployed at the aft of the shuttle. Even now he battered the Hoof-Talon construct as it hurtled towards its frozen demise.
"You don't get to run! You don't get to run!" Phineas kept snarling as he did what he did, teetering on the verge of madness.
After what he thought to be an eternity, the Draconix collided tremendously with the ground. It struck a glacier at a steep angle and the aftermath was nothing short of explosive, a massive shockwave which ripped across the tundra, ejecting boulders of ice into the freezing air, the sound like that of a behemoth's bellow. Frosty tendrils reached for the peaks of mountains before the snow settled out of the air, coming back down on the mangled cyborg at the bottom of the crater. It sizzled and smouldered there, steam rising from its burned hull. Its eyes were darkened. Its blackened scales were no longer lined by pulsating energies.
The shuttle swooped down low at the lip of the crater, slowing down and deploying its landing gear: two skids which folded out from the lower hull. The ship came to a hover at the edge of the giant dip in the ground before touching down, blowing away a layer of snow in the process.
The canopy disengaged with a hiss of air and swung upwards and the ladders lowered. Phineas undid his fastenings, got out of his seat and started to climb down the side facing the crater -after he had pulled the screen down to keep the snow out of the cockpit. Nearing the snow covered surface, he pushed off of the ladder and used his jetpack to descend to the Draconix. Wary of the machine despite its fall from heaven, he had his rifles hovering beside him, trained on the defeated cyborg.
***
His entry point was one of the gun ports, the surrounding plating as black as Phineas' mane and tail. He jetted into the port, his helmet adjusting his sights to the darkness. His jet exhaust reflected off of the desecrated walls where the explosive shots of the shuttle's phasers met their mark, eventually disappearing completely when the stallion had ventured deep into the cavernous compartment.
It was not his intent to explore the ship. While he was certain a comprehensive study of a Hoof-Talon vessel would have been invaluable, dissecting the workings of the Draconix was just too great a task for just one pony.
"Maybe if I had Tsubar with me..." he thought in jest as he surveyed the port.
While a full study was an unrealistic expectation to be had, Phineas did have something specific in mind in his exploration. The Spell-core disruptor would be an invaluable asset to him.
"A good engineer always has his tools," Phineas said to himself smugly when he found what he came for.
It took a lot of time and like before, his application was trial and error; and mostly error in that regard. However, patience and persistence won the day in the end.
Phineas closed the shuttle's phaser ports, having installed his own modified Spell-core disruptor into both cannons. It would be an alternate firing mode for the guns and one that packed a wallop of irony with each shot: Hoof-Talon technology being used against them.
Little by little, the stallion's ship grew more imposing for something so small...
"Phew!" Phineas breathed, allowing himself to sit and rest after his latest foray into alien technology. He rested his back against one of the containers' wall, his helmet lying on the floor a foot or so off to his side. Scattered around him were various bits of devices he salvaged from the Draconix, the metal littering the floor of the weapon maintenance hold. The bulk of the reclaimed Spell-core disruptor had been integrated with the phaser cannons, leaving only the scrap. Tsubar would have probably melted the refuse down.
Phineas frowned a bit when the mechanic crossed his mind. Him and the four others who accompanied him aboard the Desolus, three of which were now counted among the departed. Just when he was willing to change his ways -to allow himself to connect with those around him- he found himself thrown back into the pit of loneliness he had spent so many years in. Such was the cruel ways of fate!
"It really has been too short..." Phineas mumbled, his mood dour. His victory over the Draconix and his ever increasing efficiency at combat did little to numb the pain he felt for those he was so close to counting as his friends. No matter how hard he fought, he would never be able to get them back. No matter how hard he fought, he wouldn't be able to get any of them back, those he left behind centuries ago. He could only hope Tsubar and Uolix have fared well in their escape pod over the five days that passed. That was all he had left of his former companions.
Aside from that, he was left to his lonesome with his pledge. Live decently, fight for what he believed was right. And according to him, any and all under the Hoof-Talons banner had a target on their heads.
"It's good enough," he thought, clinging to his dedication to it. It would be his sole drive to continue living. To continue fighting, as daunting as the odds may be.
He was just about finished gathering the scrap from the floor when he heard a peculiar noise. He cocked his head, pulled his long mane from his ears and listened for it, mildly surprised when he did hear it again. It was like a cross between a chime and a ping. He looked around and spotted a terminal that had just folded out of the wall, its flat screen flashing with an alert. Phineas arched a brow and trotted over to it.
Proximity alert: Unknown entities approaching he read on the screen.
"Impossible... it's freezing outside. Did other Hoof-Talons find me? Did the ones controlling the Draconix survive the crash!?"
In an instant Phineas' austere condition changed to that of a hot blooded survivor. He took a quick moment to synch his PDA up with the shuttle so as to ensure he would get such warnings directly next time and then rushed back to retrieve his helmet. He slid it on, the HUD reappearing in his sights.
***
He raised his PDA to his face and looked at the projection of the offending characters. They were a short bunch, even by pony standards. They looked like small mounds because they wore such thick coats, puffy and rubbery. They were bipedal and in addition to their heavy coats, they appeared to have helmets on their heads, mostly covered by their hoods. On either side of the helmets were small lamps.
Phineas almost broke out into laughter. He was prepared to fight for his life! These things looked like...marshmallows! A small bunch of marshmallows fighting their way through a snowstorm on a planet of constant cold!
"Its like... if one of them fell they would keep on rolling until they became a giant snowball!" the silver stallion muttered to himself, stifling his laughter. "There you go again Phineas, always assuming the worst..."
It was not long before the canopy raised and lowered. Phineas dropped from the ladder and landed in the deep snow with a crunch. He was pretty sure he wasn't standing on the actual ground of the planet and that he was simply standing on harder-packed snow.
Less than a yard away were the three aliens that had come to see him. For a change, Phineas was the first to speak.
"What are you and... what are you doing out here? What are you doing on this planet?" Phineas inquired.
The lances of light from the helmet lamps swept across him as the small beings looked at each other, as if silently conversing amongst themselves. Phineas could see that their view screens were tinted a dark shade of green and that they had straps running diagonally over their chest where they had silvery pistols holstered. Their coats were all a silvery-gray color, glistening in the light of the lamps.
It was only a few seconds before the one at the middle replied with a startlingly deep and loud voice: "We are known as the Ghanax, pony-stranger. My fellows and I are taking refuge on this world, for Hoof-Talon forces have occupied this system. Or... we were; we came to investigate the light in the sky and the explosion hoping our fears would be for naught but it appears we were justified in our suspicions."
"Er... what?" Phineas queried.
"Yes, for now you have brought them here, pony-stranger."
"But I defeated them! You won't have to worry about the Draconix-" the stallion began to say, when the Ghanax off to the far right spoke.
"The Draconix does not encompass the entirety of the Hoof-Talon occupancy in this star system. There is a legion of ships monitoring this sector of space and you destroyed one of them here. The others are bound to investigate."
"But how would they know?" Phineas countered. "It appeared to be alone when I engaged it..."
"Did you battle it above this planet?" the Ghanax off to the far left asked.
"No. It was fleeing... here..." Phineas replied, his responses slowing down as he started to piece together what the trio was getting at. "... Aw damn. It called for help, didn't it?"
"More than likely," said the Ghanax in the middle.
Phineas cursed silently. He was so caught up in his rage that he did not consider such a thing at the time! And now these three were going to have to deal with the repercussions of his short sightedness-
"What are we to do? If Hoof-Talons is converging on this planet, then we cannot leave without running the risk of attack. If we stay, it is only a matter of time until we are discovered," the leftward Ghanax questioned.
"I do not know," the Ghanax at the right responded. "Even if we were to take the chance and retreated, they would still follow us to wherever we may hide next. I worry that the rest of the crew will not manage under such stress,"
"Wait... there are more of you here?" Phineas asked abruptly. The Ghanax merely nodded.
He cursed himself further. "Damn it all!" he thought, fighting the urge to kicking at the snow. In his mind, he already knew what he had to do. He could not allow the Ghanax to suffer for his mistake. "Go back to the others," Phineas said as he turned back to the shuttle. "I hope it's not too late..."
"Pony-stranger?" the figure at the middle asked, daring to step forward a few small paces.
"I refuse to let harm befall you and your peers for my actions!" Phineas proclaimed over his shoulder. He brought up his PDA and ordered the shuttle's screen to rise.
"You are-?"
"Going to lead them away from here. They would want me, after all. I was the one who did that." The stallion gestured to the crater with a hoof.
"But pony-stranger,!" the two others said as one, stepping forth as well. "They will kill you!"
"One pony is a lot better a price to pay than your entire group," Phineas thought. Without further delay, he jetted back into the cockpit and started to prepare for take off. A gust of howling wind sent flurries whipping across the icy surface.
"Pony-stranger, tell us your name, so that your selfless deed will be remembered and honored. We Ghanax do not take sacrifice lightly," said the alien at the center.
"My name is Phineas. Phineas Startrot," said the stallion in the gray armor. "Selfless? Maybe. Sacrifice? I don't count on dying any time soon!" he shouted.
The canopy came down thereafter. The engines started up, screaming and screeching. Another layer of snow was flung up into the air as the black and white shuttle started to ascend and its landing skids folded into its hull. It angled itself towards the ominous clouds above and with a flash of purple, the shuttle blasted off toward the blackness.
***
The shuttle sped across the outer limits of the world of cold, rays of blue-white light extending over the distant horizon. Its vertical stabilizer was stowed away. Inside, Phineas sat anxious, ready to react to everything and anything. He was expecting a blockade -an armada even- countess ships poised to strike him down at any moment like an insignificant gnat. He was ready to dodge beams and orbs and whatever else would be waiting for him.
The harsh reality was that he was not too far off. As abroad as they were, the tell tale signs of numerous ships of various sizes and classes were already being registered by the small vessel. Phineas' sensors picked up on enormous spikes of energy dead ahead of the agile craft. They all matched the Hoof-Talons signature, prominent and powerful. Boastful and terrifying. An allegiance of scumbags and psychopaths that held the galaxy in their claws.
For the briefest of moments, Phineas thought he saw the Iopteryx at the head of the coming wave of ships. It was mind bogglingly huge to have been visible from so far away, the fluttering of its incorporeal wings spanning hundreds of miles. Its tendrils writhed and undulated, reaching out for things unseen. The points of light amidst the deep blueness sparkled and twinkled in a hypnotic fashion.
But the phantom Star Terror was gone just as swiftly as it appeared and whether or not it was reality or a machination of a mind under duress was something the stallion could not be bothered with thinking about for the time being. He was looking at oncoming death. He had to throw off the legion, keeping them off his tail while leading them away from the Ghanax hiding away planetside.
"And hopefully, not endangering any more innocents."
He put full power to the engines, spectacular white trails left behind the shuttle as it banked around the cloud-choked world and shot off into oblivion. Even after the shuttle itself had faded from view, its exhaust shone like twin stars in the backdrop of space.
"There. That should be more than enough to grab your attention," Phineas thought, sitting back in his seat and releasing the breath he had been holding. He had come so close to being caught in a battle he had no hope of winning.
"You'd best enjoy it, Hoof-Trots. That's the only freebie you'll get from me. Maybe. Until I fuck up again."
As harrowing an experience as it could have been, this encounter was a learning experience at the very least. One thing was perfectly clear: restraint was paramount. He could not lose himself to his primal instincts while fighting the Hoof-Talons. Doing so left him blind to a clear and present danger and by extension, put the lives of others in peril. Phineas thought that was utterly unacceptable. How could he live with himself knowing his pursuits put others in harm's way? He couldn't. There was a certain line he tread upon, one so incredibly narrow; it was all too easy to cause catastrophe with good intentions.
Learning experiences are funny things. There are the things one knows implicitly will stay with them and there are also the things which only become apparent in hindsight; and hindsight was not something Phineas was fond of. More so now, zooming through the sparkling void in hostile territory: a sector of space completely locked down by the Hoof-Talons. But there was no turning back now. Phineas knew that he had to keep going. His enemies were mighty and numerous, but he was quick and smart. Those traits would do him well. They had to.
And though it was perilous, this sector was not without its sanctuaries. Meeting the Ghanax on the frozen planet proved there were other races that patrolled these star systems in addition to the Hoof-Talons. While the galactic scourge's hold on the territory was strong, it was not without resistance. Somewhere out there, others were waging their war on the pony-gryphon hybrids.
That meant Phineas was not alone. Not completely. It was just a matter of time until he found others like his Shu'badi companions. Romaz once told him that war had corrupted the spirit of harmony, that the elements of friendship were powerless in such bleakness. Perhaps she was right in a broad sense of things. That did not mean the elements had disappeared, however. That did not mean that the galaxy was completely devoid of goodness and decency. She and her crew were proof of that. They were flawed individuals, people with their own faults and desires; but good people nonetheless.
"We can lose our way. We can falter and make mistakes, but in the end we are all alive, aren't we? We would help each other make something great before we tear each other apart to live in the ruins of the aftermath, right?"
***
"I wonder what Gaali would have made of this..." Phineas said to himself. He panned his gaze over his terminals and displays, trying to make sense of the data his instruments provided him with. He had his worth when it came to ship-to-ship combat. As a navigator...he was much less gifted. He wasn't a Gaali or Lightning Streak, for better and worse. He had to learn though, he couldn't keep depending on his shuttle to make his voyages for him. If he was going to make any headway in this conflict, he had to be in control.
The shuttle's engines were inactive, the ship coasting along its course with its pursuers barely appearing on Phineas' readouts. While he was certain they were more than able to jump from star to star and alert other hunting groups, they didn't know he couldn't do just that. They could set up ambushes across dozens of systems, spanning across trillions of miles and then be left for days and weeks without a single sighting of the black and white craft. It was too fast to chase and too unpredictable to trap.
But in the time Phineas spent drifting from the clutches of the Hoof-Talons, so many others were being subjected to their aggression. The time he spent in stasis was time he could probably use crippling one of their warships or denying them supplies!
He needed something better. He needed to turn his shuttle craft into a space fighter.
Until then, he had his ship calculate the time it would take to reach the next star system then put himself in the pod for the duration of the journey. It was supposed to be only four Equestrian days.
He wouldn't reach his destination.
***
His hoof pressed against the screen after the first quarter of the trip, still clad in his space suit. That was another one of his new protocols; in the case of a threat critically damaging or incapacitating the shuttle, he would be already prepared to respond to the emergency.
He strapped into his seat, linked up with the ship and started to bring himself to speed on the situation. He didn't find one Hoof-Talon ship this time. He came across a whole squadron, one cruiser that had four lighter escort craft accompanying it. And this squadron was already in pitch combat with another group of ships.
The largest one was slightly larger than the cruiser, its dark red hull sleek with rows of bright blue lights decorating it. It was longer than it was wide, its forward end recurved like the blade of a scythe while it's engine was the bulkiest part of it. The rest of the craft's structure tapered out from the gigantic propulsion system which comprised of six thrusters, each spewing blue flame from their exhausts. It had a super structure rising at a gradual slope at its rear with many pylons extending out from the sides. The extensions were swept forward and had spheres attached to their ends, entropic energy dancing around in the magical balls. From them, bolts of lightning were pelted at the Hoof-Talon cruiser, crackling across a magical barrier which surrounded it.
A duo of smaller craft -around the same size as the shuttle- were flying evasive maneuvers, corkscrewing, diving and banking with the Hoof-Talon escorts moving accordingly, unable to be shaken.
***
"Am I intruding on this party!?" Phineas shouted as he brought the shuttle into the commotion on trails of ivory, pulling up on one of the escorts. Diverting power from the engines, Startrot opened fire, golden spheres exploding against the escort's shield and forcing the fighter to break formation, lest it be overpowered and destroyed.
The other three followed suit, peeling away and arching around so that all four of the fighters were evenly spaced out from each other with the black and white shuttle in the center of their formation.
"Uh oh. Not good," the silver stallion said flatly, having the shuttle do a wide bank split seconds later as the fighters concentrated their fire on him, red and green pulses buzzing by the agile craft.
One of the fighters broke apart into flames, the two ships hounded by them pummeling it with coordinated strikes, overtaking the craft's shield and promptly tearing it asunder with their weapons.
"Three against three seems much more fair!"
Phineas swerved and powered upwards underneath one of the three fighters, golden light funneling into his phasers and then blasting out, the dual beams punching right through its shield and ripping through the hull. The ship proceeded to explode, the shuttle bowling through the flaming cloud of debris, its red barrier rippling over the hull.
"Three versus two, however... is considerably less so!"
The Hoof-Talon fighters were the ones flying evasively now. They dipped, banked, rolled and swerved, the two other fighters matching their dance beat for beat, chasing them down with their own blasters. Phineas assisted them in ending the skirmish, flying overhead and firing phaser shot down, swiftly depleting the shields of the remaining escorts and leaving them to the whims of the fighters.
***
Now the tide of battle had turned in the favor of the resistance forces, but the cruiser was still too strong an enemy for the main vessel to finish. The mystical lightning collided against the vessel's shield and dispersed with little effect on it, forming webs of light which faded away moments after.
In retaliation, the cruiser's turrets aimed and fired, broad crimson beams slamming against its opponent's hull causing sparks to jump and flames to take hold.
Seeing this, Phineas snarled: "How about a special kind of lightning?"
He switched firing modes and the phasers started to channel their blasts. Flying in an arch, the stallion got himself into firing position, closing in on the cruiser from its left side. Rather than golden light, that same sickly glow of the disruptor shot swirled into the cannons, particles suspended at the end of the barrels, spinning around and around until yellowish bolts danced haphazardly around the end of the guns. A yellow-green glow emanated from within the phasers and after a few moments more of charging, the disruptor beams shot out, crashing against the cruiser's magical barrier.
The energies spilled out across the shield, corroding it to the point of nonexistence before coating the hull itself. The craft's plating gave off a neon glow with the malignant energies which drained its Spell-core. The shuttle barrel rolled, Phineas getting ready to go for another attack.
Startrot lined up his next pass and was making his approach when the brilliant light cut across his view. The curved portion of the red vessel's front end had slid downwards, revealing an especially large cannon: a Spell-core blaster.
The two halves of the cruiser fell apart from each other, small pieces of debris floating in between the severed portions of the Hoof-Talon vessel. For a few moments, the wreck remained as such before explosions broke out from either piece in rapid succession.
***
Static filled the cockpit with the odd burst in audio that was mostly gibberish anyway. Phineas grunted and attempted to hail the ship again, getting the same response. He growled irritably and laid his head on his instrumentation panel. Another issue he needed to rectify: being able to communicate properly. His PDA couldn't work with the Desolus and the shuttle's comm systems couldn't contact the larger craft. The technology was just too incompatible. He sighed, abandoning the effort. There was no getting around it.
"So think!" Phineas scolded himself. "How the hell can I-?" His head jerked up without warning and he pulled his forelegs from the neuro-link sleeves. "... Duh." he thought, looking at his PDA. He took it off of its band and then reached into a toolbox, pulling out his Magi-flux Harmonizer.
Shortly after, the silver stallion had created an adapter for the shuttle's communication systems. Amplifying the PDA's own signal, he tried to hail the vessel once more.
"Unknown craft, identify yourself." said a gruff voice, presumably from the red ship.
"Phineas Startrot," said the stallion. "No affiliation, currently..."
He heard booming laughter from the other end of the transmission.
"Did I say something... funny?" Phineas queried.
"Do you not know yourself? You have a slight reputation in this sector, Federation pony," the voice replied. "A Ghanax transport has been spreading the message to lend you aid should you be discovered, for single... hoofedly... destroying a Draconix class warship with a shuttle, then proceeding to draw the attention of Hoof-Talon legionaries away from the refugees. They called you a ghost of the past; I assume it is because of your most ...dated vessel."
"Wow." Phineas replied simply, somewhat overwhelmed. "They weren't kidding when they said they didn't take sacrifice lightly."
"Indeed. And just as you have assisted the Ghanax, you have lent aid to us in a time of need. Is there anything that can be done to reward your bravery and courage?"
Phineas grinned widely underneath his helmet. He paused for a moment to compose himself then asked: "If you have the resources to spare, I would like to make some adjustments to my ship. I find that it... leaves much to be desired for my intents and purposes."
The person at the other end laughed heartily again. Phineas frowned, was that to mean no? Pulling up beside him was one of the fighter ships, the craft being roughly triangular in shape, blue with white stripes across the wings.
"Follow me. I'll lead you to our storage hold!" the pilot said before twisting their ship around, flying to the carrier ship.
***
The two fighters and Phineas' shuttle flew into a docking bay located near the engine section of the carrier. Its entrance was directly on the ship's underside, so when the three ships ascended into it, the large door slid shut underneath them and they were caught in an energy field. It was the same kind of magic that drew Phineas into the Desolus.
He opened the canopy to see an assembly of the ship's crew members. Numbering six in all, they were a group of extremely thin beings that stood on a ring-platform which spanned from the bay's walls inward to the field emitters where the ships were held. They wore dark blue suits that had a metallic sheen to them and their skin was an oddly translucent green color. Their faces were devoid of actual features, their "flesh" unnaturally smooth and uniform with their brain being visible. They walked on four legs, had two arms and had a set of eight tentacles on each hand.
The stallion was both amazed... and horrified. It made him wonder how the Ghanax looked underneath their bulky coats. He shuddered within his armor.
"We recognize that you are unfamiliar with our kind. We are of the Yithith race," said the apparent leader of the group. They raised a hand, the tips of the tentacles beginning to glow as they did so. The other five mirrored the action. Lowering from the ceiling and stretching out from the walls were a multitude of mechanical arms which ended with a myriad of tools and utensils.
"And we have been informed that you are in need of an... upgrade."
***
When Phineas departed hours later, he left with a completely different spacecraft. In addition to an improved Spell-core engine that was even capable of interstellar warping, he was given an expanded weapon hold: two hardpoints beneath both wings where sustained laser cannons were mounted; the same guns employed by the Yithith fighters.
The shuttle had become a formidable vehicle of battle. A true space fighter.
It was simple in thought. It was difficult in practice. All in all, it wasn't something new to the extraordinary silver stallion. Take them by surprise, hinder their ability to fight back then finish them off. He had the know-how and he had an arsenal to do just that. It was beginning to become a science to him.
And that was when everything changed.
"What the hell!?" Phineas exclaimed as his screen started to flash red.
INTRUDER ALERT: UNIDENTIFIED ENTITIES LOCATED - WEAPON BAY
The holographic text overtook everything else that was on display on his terminals.
***
Up until that point, he had been in pitch combat with a Hoof-Talon cargo ship, a ship that looked like the head of a shovel. It was broad and rounded at the front with various mechanical hubs dotting various points on its hull, along with glowing nodes. Just looking at the asymmetrical design conveyed a sense of organized chaos.
The Equestrian fighter weaved in between the maelstrom of firing weapons; scorching rays and explosive orbs avoided in an intricate dance. To make things interesting, this Hoof-Talon ship had missiles! The arcane projectiles were bulky things that were nearly half the size of the shuttle. The cylindrical bombs had three radial engines belching green and yellow fire and a section of the explosive spun like a tunnel bore. The metal teeth at the front of the missiles made it clear that being hit by those things would ruin anyone's day. They would burrow into a ship and detonate their diabolical payload!
Phineas was being chased by no less than six of these missiles, relying on the maneuverability of his shuttle now more than ever. It ran the gauntlet of beams and spheres, rolling from side to side and navigating a treacherous three-dimensional maze. Flying near to the hull of the transport, whenever a wayward shot struck a missile, the ensuing blast rocked the Hoof-Talon ship and caused a respectable amount of damage, eating away at the hull and causing flames to billow out into space.
***
This method of offensive defensiveness had rendered the transport without most of its guns, the sight of rising smoke and cannons laced with sparks being familiar to Phineas Startrot. He readied himself to go in for the kill when the alarms started to flash before his eyes.
Intruders on his ship.
Hoof-Talons on his ship!
Thinking at the speed of light, Phineas had the shuttle's automation take control and he unstrapped himself from his seat. He turned away from his screen decorated by icons and fluctuating multicolored bars and raced through the small ship. He sped from the cockpit to his personal quarters and down the short hatch to the lower portion of the shuttle, to the weapons maintenance hold.
"Bastards want to take away my fire power, huh?!" he boomed as he went, heralded by the roaring red of his thruster pack. Immediately after the entrance parted, Phineas soared out with his hover-platform rifles deployed. He expected a team of artificial Unicorn soldiers to be tearing into his phaser cannons. After all, only Unicorns had the ability to teleport, right?
Wrong, evidently.
***
There they were, four of them in the relatively cramped space of the maintenance hold. Phineas dropped onto his hooves and struck a low combat stance, his legs spread out underneath his body which he held low. The blank yellow eyes of his helmet bore into the single circular red visor that the Hoof-Talon armored helms sported. Of the four he saw, one Hoof-Talon soldier had a helmet which dipped down sharply at the front, the perfect shape to fit a gryphon's beak.
Their armor was onyx with a red and gold trim. Like him, they had a utility pack on their backs, though more rounded and smaller, blending seamlessly into the rest of their armor. Their suits were sleek as opposed to Phineas' bulkier appearance. At the back of his mind, the silver stallion wondered if this was what Federation equipment would have evolved into if fate had taken a different path.
All four of them had wings, covered up completely by their suits and all of them had claws. Even the ones that were clearly equine in figure.
"Super pegasi..."
The standoff did not last for long. Popping up from their utility packs, held up on a small metal base were the Hoof-Talon blasters, jet black weapons that had a row of red bulbs which contained volatile magic. The Hoof-Talons fired and Phineas was quick to react, his jets lifting him from the floor.
Not quick enough. He couldn't have hoped to be quick enough. A burning stream of concentrated heat sliced over one of his forelegs split seconds after his hooves had risen, the armor plating deformed and glowing on either side of the incision. Phineas cried out in pain but could not spare the time to inspect the injury. He started shooting as well, his rifles sounding like screeching firecrackers with each magical bolt volley sent at the Hoof-Talons.
***
He didn't know how long the whole thing lasted. A minute? Maybe two? All he knew was the lights and sounds. The muzzle flash in the corners of his vision as his hovering rifles retorted to the buzzing and droning of the blasters with pops and squeals happened in slow motion, as if time had become molasses. He saw the light flicker across the black figures as his shots collided with their shields, dispersing at first then punching through when their barriers had weakened.
His body started to move on its own when one of them lunged at him and he reared up, directing his fire onto the soldier. He saw the magical bolts tear right through them, vapor exiting out from the holes made in their back. In spite of the wounds, the soldier was unstoppable in their approach. In no time at all, they were like a lion, pouncing onto their prey, claws extended.
Phineas sent a left hook into the Hoof-Talon's lower torso. The blow threw off their form, making them contort around the forceful impact. Phineas recoiled away from the soldier and sent himself into a spin as his tail blade extended.
The hybrid hadn't even touched the floor again when it was cleaved in two right across the midsection, the two halves tumbling through the air and coming down with a thud.
Facing the other three, he cycled through them while firing bursts of magic bolts until they had stopped moving.
***
He hurt. He had been shot several times, he was certain of it. When he lowered himself to the ground, he shouted in agony. He looked down to see several glowing incisions in his armor, some that went through him entirely. They weren't small and surgical like what his guns did to their targets. They were large and gruesome injuries that allowed him to see into himself.
"By Luna's fucking mane!" he rasped.
He was going to be sick. He was going to die. This was the end. He heard the voice of the enigma. The voice he heard in his nightmare. A voice beckoning his demise. "You will be mine... as is your destiny."
"No damn it... no!" he thought defiantly. Activating his jetpack, Phineas flew himself to his only chance of survival. He flew himself to the pod.
"Get me the hell out of here!" he muttered through labored breaths after he laid himself down. His hooves tapped the internal panel, ordering the shuttle to disengage and retreat from the battered transport ship.
He then turned his gaze upward, staring into the ceiling beyond the window of the stasis pod. He winced, his body in sweltering agony, as if he had been laying in a fire. He might as well have been doing so, his flesh either inflamed or blackened and charred.
He doubted that he would make it out of this predicament. He was convinced he had fought his last fight, knowing first hoof how so many others sharing his beliefs met their painful ends. But there was a slight chance this would work. The slight chance that the enchantment which preserved his life for almost four hundred years did not simply freeze his body... but healed it. When he woke from his slumber the first time, his life signs were healthier than when he entered the pod.
Now... now it was time to discover whether or not that result was a fluke. He let the blinding light take him. The anguish faded away... to nothingness. To numbness.
If his mind hadn't stopped working, Phineas might have thought it to be bliss.
***
When he returned to lucidity, he was ecstatic.
"I was right!" said Phineas in awe. Tears blurred his sight, running down his cheeks and welling up underneath his helmet. He didn't care. He was alive. He had a foreleg raised, finding that the healing magic did not just repair his body, but also restored his armor!
He looked to the panel, finding that he had been out of commission for another four days. Four days was the price he had to pay for his life. He had no complaints.
Phineas raised the screen and sat up, quivering when it occurred to him just how close he was to dying... again.
His quivering transitioned to nigh uncontrollable shuddering when he realized he still had the bodies on board. For four days...
"Oh sweet Celestia, no..."
It a long time for him to muster up the courage to go down to the hold and deal with the issue.
"I won't smell anything, I won't run the risk of getting diseased. The suit will protect me and I'll have the shuttle run sanitation protocols. I can space the refuse," he told himself as he went down the shaft.
Referring to the soldiers as refuse made disposing of their bodies somewhat easier for the pony. It made the Hoof-Talon operatives objects instead of formerly living things. It made dealing with the fact that he killed them easier to cope with as well.
He was starting to fear that his penchant for murder was inherent, whereas others would have hesitated, he did not. He had no qualms destroying entire vessels and taking the lives of their crews... but actually seeing his enemy and slaying them in quick succession? Did that make him a monster? Was the only thing fit enough to fight the despicable something even worse than they?
It was a disturbing thought that Phineas tried not to think about.
***
Their innards had become discolored. That was the first thing the silver stallion noticed as he steeled himself for his morbid task. As he gathered the bodies for jettison, a dark thought crossed his mind.
"It could happen again... the next time I might not be so fortunate."
Now he was looking at the bodies in an all new light. The technology in their armor... his ship was well equipped in waging war on the legion of hybrids, but his spacesuit was not. It only provided basic protection from the harsh elements of space and had little worth in an actual fire fight.
"Am I really willing... to loot corpses...?" Phineas asked himself.
Once again, he found himself at an impasse with himself for the longest time. When he finally came to a decision, he had four sets of advanced armor to study and adapt to his own purposes.
The wearers were floating in the void, their hides a blend of feather and fur, a seamless combination of pony and gryphon. In spite of the fact they were derived from things that were anything but to him; he couldn't help feeling they were alien and wrong and that handling them like that was something he should never have done.
Another span of time later, he was lying on his cot, the space suit in a neat pile on the floor underneath the bed. He stared up at the ceiling blankly, a foreleg draped across his midsection, around the same area where the soldier was cut in two. His suit had been incorporated with Hoof-Talon shielding technology and his hover-platform rifles upgraded with parts from the blasters.
"Damn it, NO!" Phineas yelled as he shot upright on his bed, panting, teary eyed. More nightmares. His heart pounded and his breathing was loud and uneven.
Fire. He dreamt of fire and blood. He was in the fire writhing, his expression that of pure terror, his fur blackening and floating away in the smoke, the air making his lungs sizzle and shrivel away inside of him. Blood coated his body, hardening into a vile, dark casing in the flames of torment, covering up the welts where his flesh began to boil away.
Was it even his blood, or the blood of others? The blood of the innumerable victims of the Hoof-Talons? The blood of the ponies who died aboard the Iopteryx? The blood of all those he had slain himself?
He wanted to cry out but his voice was robbed from him. His attempts to voice his pain and despair only made the fire growl and burn more intensely. He reached out with a hoof into the black nothingness where he burned alive, alone in anguish. Alone to be scorched by the weight of his sins.
"I just wanted to do good!"
The embers rushed past his face along with his ashes.
"Why then, must I burn!?"
His eyelids shut tightly and he lowered his head, feeling the inferno blister his face. When he opened them again, his body had become blue, points of light dotting his body, glowing brightly, looking like extra eyes. Tendrils extended from his body, moving on their own in a serpentine manner. Ethereal wings wrapped around him, spreading out majestically. Phineas would have found them beautiful if he didn't associate them with the hallmarks of a monster.
A monster that he had become.
The fire was gone abruptly, and Phineas found himself soaring at the starship, closing in on it, four gigantic claws held at attention, pincers splayed. He dwarfed the vessel and the claws ripped into its aft without resistance. The thrusters ballooned into a blue and pink eruption, the heat spreading out around him and into the vastness. He peered into the shredded section of the Iopteryx and saw himself staring back with the panicked Unicorn mare close by.
An instant later, the Iopteryx had become several ships, a whole Hoof-Talon fleet. He had become impossibly enormous, each tendril wrapping around many ships, constricting them, crushing them, killing so many with the greatest of ease and littlest of care.
He spun an occult web of power which left the most heavily armed warship at his bidding and broke them all like a careless foal playing roughly with their toys.
And that was when he woke up.
***
He sat on his bed with his back braced against the wall of the room, hugging his bent knees. His glistening eyes were set in a blank stare at the stasis pod, the rest of his body trembling. He was afraid. Afraid of sleeping, afraid of what was outside of his ship's walls and afraid of what he was turning into.
"I'm not a monster. I'm not," Phineas muttered to himself. "I don't kill innocents without rhyme or reason. I don't rape and pillage and... experiment on people."
He spat the word hatefully, thinking of Tsubar and what had happened to him to make him mostly machine. His blood boiled and he felt the fire again -the fire which burned within him. The one which started his personal war in the first place.
"But I don't want to keep killing... I don't want to shed blood just so I can keep my own life and I don't want to shed blood just because others are killed unjustly..."
He buried his face into this forelegs. It was an unending cycle of murder and strife. How could one claim to be good when their hooves were stained with blood?
They don't, Phineas decided as he overcame his stupor.
"I am not Equestria. I am not virtuous. I would never represent an element of harmony. And there is nothing more to this 'war' other than kill or be killed. The Hoof-Talons won't stop, so I can't either."
He got off of the cot and kicked it back into the wall. He put on his armor and returned to his place at the helm of his ship. As he charged the Spell-core and prepped for interstellar jump, he thought grimly: "No wonder the elements of harmony don't work anymore. If it isn't the Hoof-Talons, it's something else causing havoc among the stars."
***
A spectral collection of energy swirled into a bubble that distorted the space and time around it. The coalescence cascaded in all directions, marking the arrival of the shuttle in a system in orbit of a celestial mammoth of a star. It was red and active, geysers of plasma shooting off from its surface.This region of space had nebulous clouds of many shades of color drifting amidst the planets, some of the gas clouds forming rings around them, partially obscuring the moons and other small bodies caught in orbit. The clouds -in spite of their beauty- were more than likely to be toxic, meaning it was not very probable that Phineas was going to find a habitable world in this system.
He activated the shuttle's thrusters and was off, paying close attention to his scanners for threats or any other points of interest. After a long time of scouting, Phineas came across something worthy of notice: a space station. It was in orbit around one of the rocky giants that was devoured by the gas cloud, its energy signal scrambled as a result. It made finding it difficult...
"A rebel base?" Phineas thought aloud. Brilliant! This sector was a territory contended for, but the Hoof-Talons were not as infallible as they appeared to be. Be it on harsh planets or in barren systems, rebel forces were establishing their hold.
The station was a large hemisphere of hull plating with a thin spire extending out from underneath it. Connected to the spire via struts were a series of rings that had small windows lining their circumferences. Circling the base were heavy laser arrays, tethered by some invisible force.
***
"Halt. Identify yourself," Phineas heard a gruff voice say over his communication system as he directed his craft toward the station with caution.
"Phineas Startrot, no affiliation," he replied, wondering just how far his reputation extended in this sector.
"That is a strange name for a spacecraft."
"Righto," Phineas commented mentally. "Not very far at all..."
"It's not the name of the ship. It's the name of its pilot," he explained.
"Your craft is Federation in origin, is it not?"
"I was under the impression the Federation wasn't around anymore," Phineas replied flatly. Did everyone and their mother know about Equestria's antiquated spaceships?
"Precisely. Which is why the appearance of a new model of ship bearing the Federation symbol is strange indeed."
"It isn't a new model. In fact it is quite old. Almost four centuries," Phineas said.
There was a brief moment of silence where the person at the other end of the transmission realized the implications of Phineas' words.
"You are from the before time?" they asked.
"Before Earth fell? Yeah," Phineas answered.
"Then you have my condolences, Federation-pony. The journey which brought you here and now must have been difficult."
"Understatement of the... millennium."
"Requesting permission to dock. I've been through a lot recently. I need a place to stay for a short while."
"Permission granted, Phineas Startrot."
The shuttle flew around the dome and aligned itself with one of the four available docking bays, a huge opening in the side of the structure that was protected by shielding to keep the surrounding gas cloud out of it. Phineas found a port to enter and brought the ship in, pulling up over the platform and then landing on it. Magnetic clamps came up on either side of the shuttle and locked it in place.
***
Like on Gallopso, the station's dock tended to many other ships, a variety of alien races interacting. They were all in spacesuits that varied greatly, but they worked as one repairing battle scarred vessels and installing new parts to others. Mostly weaponry.
Phineas embarked from the shuttle and walked along the length of the platform, taking in the sights around him. The dock was just as busy as any other spaceport. The size of vessels present ranged from massive capital ships to the smaller craft the stallion was used to seeing, such as dreadnaughts and cruisers with crews of no more than ten or so.
Entering the station proper, Phineas found a terminal and was pleasantly surprised when he was able to download a directory from it onto his PDA. He traversed the halls with tens of others, the majority being races he hadn't even seen before. Bizarre aliens: big, small, scaly, furry; wearing full body suits, wearing more conventional armor, some wearing no armor; some being made of their armor...
"It's been some time since I've seen one of your kind here!" the silver stallion heard someone hiss.
Phineas looked up from his PDA to the burly being standing in front of him. They were easily more than eight feet tall, possessed reptilian features in their face -including a short snout where two fangs on either side gave them an under bite- and were more buff than Amadeus, with long muscular arms that ended in three clawed fingers. Their legs were shorter and their stance was somewhat hunched, almost like a gorilla. The alien was a light gray in color with speckles of black and a dark green shell on their upper back.
"Pardon?" Phineas replied, assuming from the tone the alien was being aggressive toward him.
"Not much ponies on this station at any given time," the alien explained with a raspy voice that made everything they said sound like they were in an irritable mood.
"I see..." Phineas replied, taken aback by the randomness of the encounter. The burly alien did not reply, nor did it continue on its way. Was it waiting for him to say something else?
"... Well I'll be seeing you... maybe," he said somewhat uncomfortably, wondering if he had insulted the alien. Did they come from a race with some custom to ending a conversation that he was ignorant to?
The alien only continued to look down at him.
"... Goodbye?" Phineas said with uncertainty.
"Goodbye!" the alien hissed with lips curved into a small smile. They then proceeded to thud along the hallway past the silver stallion, who was trying to make heads and tails out of what happened. Shrugging, he raised his PDA and went on his own way down the corridor.
***
Some time later, Phineas found himself at a cafeteria. Dispensers mounted on the far wall provided food to the rebels who lined up to use them. Rows and rows of tables took up most of the space in the large room. Since Phineas hadn't eaten in days -weeks counting the time he spent in stasis- he welcomed the opportunity to nourish himself. It was only when he came across the cafeteria and saw everyone eating and conversing amongst themselves did he realize how hungry he really was.
Hungry and lonely. All of a sudden he wanted to go find the shelled alien and have a long winded discussion with them about anything he could think of. With a sigh, Phineas took off his helmet and rested it on his utility pack. At least he could tend to one of his problems immediately.
After getting on line, taking a tray and being given gelatinous foodstuffs, Phineas found a fairly vacant table to sit at. He retrieved his Harmonizer from his tool kit and started using its magical field as a spoon, like he had done on the Desolus. If Gaali had been talking to him now, he would have paid her more attention for sure. Hindsight was only a slap in the face.
"So uh... I see you've got an interesting way to... eat." a deep rumbling voice said to him.
Phineas rolled his eyes up to look at the speaker across the table from him. A dragon! One that was even bigger than the shelled alien Phineas met in the hallway. His scales were midnight blue, two large crests ran on top of his head and his eyes were icy in color. He didn't have wings, but that appeared natural for them as there weren't signs of amputations or anything of the sort.
"Better than using my hoof, right?" Phineas responded.
The dragon raised a scaly brow and started eating his goop without another word. He was using an actual spoon.
"I used to know another dragon," Phineas said to the dark scaled stranger.
The dragon looked up from their tray. Phineas had his gaze pointed down, prodding at his own with the magi-tech device.
"Did you really?" the dragon replied with a perplexed expression on his face.
"I wonder if they are still around. Dragons tend to be very long lived, so..." Phineas continued to say absentmindedly.
The blue dragon started to chuckle, finding the stallion's word novel. "Are you insinuating that you have outlived a dragon, pony?"
"I've outlived a lot of things," Phineas said flatly. "How old are you?"
"146 years old!" the dragon replied proudly, turning their saurian mug upwards regally.
"I'm technically twenty. Been around for 378 years," Phineas stated, making the dragon give him a wide-eyed stare.
"How?"
"Stasis."
Phineas then started to laugh softly. He started to shake his head with the realization.
"Are you... alright?" the dragon asked concernedly.
"Probably not, since I find it funny you are the first Equestrian I've met that hasn't been a complete shit to me," Phineas answered.
"I am not Equestrian. I hatched on the Pullox fringe world in the Rerora star system..." the dragon said, hopelessly confused by the silver stallion's rambling.
This only seemed to amuse Phineas further.
"Back in my day, there were two types of dragon. There were the dragons that lived their lives training themselves to keep their instincts in check and the dragons which generally didn't give a shit about anything other than their hoard," Phineas started to explain to the blue scaled stranger. "The former were generally pretty small, even by as far as pony standards go. The latter... well... Draconixes come to mind."
The dragon's lips curled and their gaze hardened into a glare. Phineas continued unfazed.
"You aren't either of them. Your size shows you don't give a damn about inhibiting your nature but you don't have the attitude of a giant."
"What are you getting at?" the dragon snarled angrily, not appreciating the generalization of somepony's outdated views.
"I don't know," Phineas replied, much to the drake's annoyance. "I guess what I'm trying to say is: I find it really funny that a dragon of all things would actually spare the time to talk to me instead of just giving me another hard face."
The dragon's expression softened slightly. Not a lot, there was still an intensity in his piercing eyes, but he was no longer flashing his teeth at the stallion.
"You don't make it easy to hold a conversation," the dragon growled.
"I guess I'm out of practice. Recently, all I've been doing is fighting and going into stasis. Friendly faces are few and far between and the Hoof-Talons aren't the most chatty bunch you can meet..." said Phineas.
"They consider all the other races in the galaxy to be lesser than they are, so naturally they would ignore any attempts at communication."
"Hey, you think you can answer a question?" Phineas inquired.
"Depends on the question," the dragon replied simply.
"Why are the Hoof-Talons so arrogant? They aren't unbeatable. I've been picking off stragglers and helping out a few ships I've found fighting them with a shuttle!"
"It isn't that they are unbeatable. It's that their numbers are so... great. There have been numerous victories made against them, this station is testament to that... but the fact they replenish their losses dampens any progress in our fight against them," the dragon replied.
Phineas rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He considered everything he had learned thus far about galactic enemy number one. He had worked with their technology and converted it for his own use. He knew what Tsubar and Romaz told him. It wasn't enough, the Hoof-Talons were as enigmatic as a Star Terror. There was no hope of beating an enemy that was unknown.
Then it hit him.
"Of course!"
***
The five Shu'badi were besieged by a gigantic Hoof-Talon Marauder, a class of ship feared throughout the galaxy. It was the only instance within the Hoof-Talon fleet where a vessel was built around appearance rather than functionality. At its front end was an ornate gryphon's beak and two broad wings stretched out from either side of the machine, the trailing edges notched and rounded to give them a feathered impression.
The ship was, for all intents and purposes, a space faring bird of prey; a symbol of Hoof-Talon domination of the cosmos. Their encounter was a stroke of misfortune, the ship slipping from the shadows of space and sweeping them into its clutches. In no time at all they were captured and taken aboard, where they were to become victims of whatever dastardly study the hybrid race had planned for them and the rest of the abductees.
It was Tsubar who fought his way through the craft, disregarding the toll it was taking on his body. He fought through the fire and returned it in kind, crippling key systems as he went from the inside out. He freed the captives and exterminated a whole supply of the artificial beings.
In the end, he relied on his knowledge of machines and engineering to save his life.
That was the story Phineas was told. It was an incredible tale of one's determination, undying loyalty and sacrifice. It was also a key in ridding the galaxy of the Hoof-Talon menace, for from it the stallion constructed his theory.
Why else would a spacecraft be carrying the future progeny of a race which did not reproduce naturally, instead needing to manufacture the future generations of their cancerous kind? Why didn't they conduct such tasks on a planet or moon under constant watch of the legionaries? It did not make any sense that the Hoof-Talons controlled so much of the galaxy but depended on their most infamous ships to safeguard their future!
"The Hoof-Talons operate solely in space," Phineas deduced. "They might have come a long way since they were simple pirates, but in spite of that they are still the same band of roving maniacs causing grief for everyone else."
"To get rid of the Hoof-Talons, you need to stop them from replenishing their resources. You need to destroy the Marauders. Every single one."
***
It was a sound theory. How would he go about testing it?
By taking one of the most ill advised courses of actions that he could ever possibly make in his life. He had another modification done to his shuttle: the addition of his own arcane missiles. When the silo installation and his store of missiles were on board, he left the rebel base on his lonesome, backtracking across several star systems to where the game of cat and mouse began. He made no attempt to hide himself this time, warping into the system and purposely bleeding off energy from the shuttle. He was practically broadcasting: "I am here. Come and get me!"
And they did just that. The legion of ships appeared in droves, their energy signatures becoming indiscernible from one another as they went to meet the intruder, their formations forming a cage. They were coming in from all angles...and Phineas simply stayed put, allowing them to spring their "trap".
Was it really trapping if the target wanted to be caught?
They circled him like sharks before a frenzy. Hoof-Talon fighters buzzed by at distances too close for comfort. Larger ships loomed further out, cruisers and destroyers that varied drastically amongst themselves. Some were simple machines. Some, like the Draconixes, were actual creatures assimilated through the use of cybernetics. Alien beasts which defied sight and reason, bound by metal restraints and control structures. Pylons crackling with energies ran along their backs like a mockery of a spinal column.
Phineas wanted to shrink into his seat. At any moment they could end him, all they had to do was aim their guns and fire at the stationary target. Even if he were to overcharge his engines and make a break for it, by ways of odds he would be killed. There was no way in hell that he was going to dodge all of those weapons. He had the chance to warp out of danger, but then he would be back at square one, only with the Hoof-Talons hot on his trail; and as Tsubar once said: "You don't just fight the Hoof-Talons. You strike out against them once or twice then you run and hide before they can close in."
So there he was, waiting for something to happen while the lion prowled around him in its den, licking its fangs hungrily. They hadn't opened fire yet, which Phineas found odd. In fact, he found so many ships circling him an oddity. After all, it was only a shuttle they were dealing with...granted one that was far from the average run-of-the-mill exploration craft. Furthermore, the ship was Federation issue...an extremely old one at that.
"Oh good. They remember me. I feel so fucking fuzzy inside..." Phineas snarked.
Now it was a question of what they were going to do with him. That became apparent when the tangle of Hoof-Talon ships dispersed, clearing out little by little like scavengers scared off from a carcass as an even larger shape made its way closer.
***
The Marauder's stature was like an Iopteryx, massive and commanding of respect and fear. The sculpted beak was golden upon a black and gray ship, gleaming in the light of thrusters and the blue sun eclipsed by its hulking mass. The hull was irregular, abundant with angular structures and cylinders with small lights blinking in no clear pattern.
The beak opened with vapor billowing out from the creases in the corners and seams. Staring down the metal gullet, Phineas saw something that made the docking bays of the Gallopso fringe world and the rebel base seem like utter foal's play.
Phineas saw a bay full of the Marauder's horrific arsenal. Laser cannons the size of entire ships. Missile racks with warheads that could crack a planet's crust and spill its molten core. The stallion's blood ran cold, a shiver ran down his spine and his pupils expanded underneath the yellow screens over his eyes. The realization of what he was truly up against was a dreadful one indeed.
"Tsubar... how in the fuck did you do this...?" Startrot found himself asking. Shaking the trepidation and fear, he snarled "I'm going to make you choke!"
The shuttle's engines flashed to life and the craft went careening into the mouth of the ship, weapons hot. Phineas banked, rolled and arched around, all of his experience culminating in this one last battle inside of the Marauder. Phaser fire countered the plethora of light turrets which had deployed from the ship's walls, filling the bay with magical energy blasts. Wing mounted lasers cut across the massive laser cannons. An aperture in between the two phaser cannons opened, missiles roaring out into the fray, the inside of the Marauder's beak alight with mystical flame and gas.
A disruptor beam shot out from an especially large cannon further into the Marauder's "throat", the sallow stream of corrosive energy ripping through the formation of smaller ships several kilometers away. To make matters worse, a squadron of fighters inserted themselves into the fight, engaging with sustained rays and explosive orbs.
It was mayhem. Between the hundreds of automated guns remaining inside the gullet of the Marauder and the fighters, Phineas was locked in a constant dance of evasive maneuvers and keeping his shields from falling.
"You can do this, Startrot. You've done so much already. You can do anything!"
***
Flashing alerts and projections surrounded him, but Phineas kept looking straight out of his screen, observing what he could as his shuttle rocketed to and fro, rolling and banking, pitching down then swerving around in a dizzying display that would have left even a pegasus crosseyed trying to follow.
He spotted a bulkhead door on the far side of the gullet, underneath the disruptor cannon which crackled with malignant power as it charged up for another blast. Thinking fast, Phineas sent a missile its way.
The explosion of scarlet arcane energies was mixed with the chaotic discharge of the disruptor cannon. Shards of metal charged with the yellow-green energy peppered the shuttle's shields and that small exposure to it began to wreak havoc on the magical barrier.
But the blast door had been forced open in the explosion! Seizing his chance, Phineas rushed through, the squadron of fighters giving chase without fail. Phineas' guns unleashed hell as he rushed through the innards of the ship, tearing through the hallways and passing from level to level by making his own shuttle-sized tunnels. Alarms were blaring all the while, sparks and electricity going wild in his passing.
It was like a scene aboard the Iopteryx in its final moments.
It was like a scene aboard any Hoof-Talon ship before Phineas delivered the killing blow.
Bulkheads groaned into position, only to be decimated by a colliding missile. Through the mangled doorway the shuttle roared through, the fighters remaining on his rear all the way through.
"Oh would you just fuck off!?" Phineas growled as their shots pestered his shielding, fragments of metal fizzling away after they fell into it.
***
The exterior hull burst outwards, chunks of plating expunged into space, glowing white hot. The black and while shuttle took its improvised exit, tearing out on vectors of purple. All around the Marauder, there was pandemonium. Just as Phineas was hoping would occur.
Just as Tsubar freed his friends by causing a whole mess of chaos, Phineas freed those aboard the Hoof-Talon ship by causing a storm of disarray that they never expected to come from a single space shuttle. When the captured got back to their ships and fought their way out of the enormous ship, the only thing left to do was give them a taste of their own medicine. Flaming wreckage of Hoof-Talon vessels formed a graveyard, an entire fleet of rebel and civilian craft acting as one to annihilate the legionaries.
"Unity at last...!" Phineas thought, panting. He had done the most improbable. He, by himself, stood against the odds and-
The shuttle rocked with two tremendous impacts, the shield finally faltering. Wrapping around the shuttle without anything to protect it, the disruptor shot resulted in the cockpit being flooded with red light.
SPELL-CORE CRITICAL
"I can tell just fine by the alarms and lights, thank you very much!" Phineas grumbled, using his rapidly depleting energy reserves to pull out of the sapping cloud of electricity.
He came around the Marauder at a speed much slower than he was accustomed. Trailing his movement was the single fighter that followed him out of the gigantic warship. Its disruptor cannon glowed bright with the shot to end all others.
The blast that was finally going to end the story of Phineas Startrot. His heart lurched as he faced his own demise in all of its frightening glory.
Or rather, he would have stared down his death if it didn't explode into glimmering shrapnel as nearby ships picked it off like any other hostile craft.
Panting and somewhat in disbelief. Phineas said flatly: "Well then... looks like Luna really did smile on me after all."
Putting the close call behind him, he directed the the front of the shuttle at the Marauder's still-open beak and let loose one last arcane missile. The projectile flew in an arc into the ship's weapon bay, colliding with one of the warheads.
The ensuing release of power was like watching a star die, a supernova encapsulated in a shell then given the freedom to expand and destroy.
The Marauder, one of the Hoof-Talons' most feared ships, had died in the in the cleansing heat of stellar fire.
***
When all was said and done, Phineas had a ship critically damaged in the debris field of a monumentous battle. In time, there would be many more like it, for the purpose of reclaiming the galaxy. Defeating the Hoof-Talons would not be the end of the troubles, however. Far from it.
But the freedom to travel in between stars without being subjected to the fear and oppression that defined the Hoof-Talon legion was a good start to a new age. That made the struggle thus far worth it.
As for Phineas, he undid his straps and made his way to the shuttle's Spell-core reactor. On his flanks were his toolboxes, where he had a crowbar, a Magi-Flux Harmonizer and a whole load of scrap to use patching his ship up. Some things never changed.
And a good engineer always had their tools on them.
"Am I good?"
Blue sparks leaped from the inactive pylon he was working on, the prongs of the Harmonizer coated in a humming electrical field.
"Sometimes horrible things have to be done for the greater good."
The pylons started to spin, manifesting the pink sphere of energy, bolts of power jutting out to meet the tips of metal speeding around the orb.
"But that does not make me a monster. If a dragon can live a proper life without being made to change their nature, then I could live a proper life being myself... and living with my deeds. I've done some good and I've done some evil. But most importantly, I've done all I possibly could. Quite honestly, all I possibly could is pretty damn impressive."
"To all receiving ships, I am Phineas Startrot; no affiliation. Please respond."
The stallion waited for a reply from the assembly of the Resistance. A bounty of voices reported in, chiming over his comms one after the other. Deep voices. Gravelly voices. A few musical ones and a few not so musical ones. Ships crewed by peoples of all walks of life, all for one goal, gathered in one place. Phineas couldn't help but feel empowered by being in their presence. As far as he was concerned, this day belonged to them. He was only the means in which they seized the moment to retaliate against their captors.
"You have my condolences for any hardships you might have experienced aboard that accursed ship," Phineas began to transmit. "and I understand what I am going to ask of you will be... sudden. But for too long you have struggled underneath Hoof-Talon dominion."
He paused, gathering his thoughts. He had to word his next statements carefully.
"I suspect that I know how to end the war against them."
Uproar blasted over Phineas' comms, many incredulous and dismissive. He couldn't blame them, he would probably doubt himself if he were in their place. A single pony from a time forgotten claiming to know how to end a war that has lasted centuries across the stellar clusters?
But the story of Tsubar was a tale incredible in its own right, and Phineas felt that in time the extraordinary was going to become the norm. A time of heroes and legends rising from the depths of desperation and despair. A time of hope.
"Listen to me, please!" he implored. He repeated variations of this, fighting back the opposing voices until he was finally given the right of way to speak.
"Thank you! Now, I believe the key to true victory is to hunt down the Marauders. They are the seat from which the Hoof-Talons rule!"
"How absurd!" someone said, their voice punctuated by cricket-like chittering and chirping.
"It is true! The Hoof-Talons reproduce artificially! They grow their... offspring ...on the Marauders. I would not be surprised if that was part of the reason they collected you all in the first place. To better develop their procedure," Phineas replied. This time there was no counterargument, just stunned silence across the board.
He was sure most of them had seen the crimes committed in the name of "science". Now they knew the reason why they were done, and they were horrified. Rightfully so.
"Spread the word. There is power in unity. We can take back what they have stolen but we have to strike as one, or they'll just keep replicating and rebuilding. We need to find the Marauders and put. Them. Down."
A voice sounding like quaking earth said: "Well that was a fine speech and all, but how exactly are we going to find every Marauder the Hoof-Talons have? And how are we supposed to destroy them all in any reasonable time? The Hoof-Talons will have adapted their tactics before too long. They always do."
"Damn..." Phineas thought. He hadn't put nearly enough thought into that. He was betting on odds this whole time. The odds that would be in his favor if he were to free forces of the Resistance from a Marauder, the odds that would shift with the tide of fighters that would have swept the galaxy should his message be heeded. But how long would that take?
Worse still; what if his message was ignored?
He wanted to kick himself. "Startrot, you idiot!"
"I may have a solution," an entirely different voice replied.
***
The one who spoke had a deep, calm voice that had a strangely otherworldly echo to it. "Perhaps if we were to board a Hoof-Talon vessel and... procure some of their telemetry equipment..."
"Then we could locate Hoof-Talon ships!" a buzzing voice exclaimed.
"We would need a lot of equipment."
"We can have our best builders emulate their technology."
"It will be risky."
"A lot of these things are."
And just like that, Phineas' comms were overtaken by the strategic chattering. This was happening! The days of the Hoof-Talon legion were numbered.
"I will be willing to aid in retrieving this equipment," Phineas said.
"I will take a division of ships to relay this information to other rebellion hubs." said the being with the rumbling baritone. "The faster we get word out, the better."
***
And so the pieces were falling into place. By Spell-core warping, the news of the new offensive was on its way to reaching the other rebel fleets scattered across the stars, to bring them into harmony as one united force. The only thing that was needed now was the Hoof-Talon technology -intact. That meant the bombed out, simmering debris littering the star system would not suffice.
Another band of legionaries had to be found. Phineas was not alone on the hunt, however. A small party accompanied the shuttle, flying side by side a few hundred meters apart.
A Heavy Ballistics craft was the hardest hitter in the group, a craft slender at the front where it had a Spell-core blaster and heftier near the aft. It wasn't because its engine added to his mass -it only had one large propulsion drive- but because of the great deal of launchers and salvos that were mounted on its hull and installed directly into the beast of a spacecraft.
Six lighter support ships rounded out the group. While not offensively inclined, the blocky spaceships had the ability to link up their shield projectors, forming a more formidable bubble around their formation. Each one had a single burst laser turret attached to the lower hull. They flew as escorts to the Ballistics craft.
Phineas' shuttle was easily the most combat capable for its size as the party moved en route to another Hoof-Talon occupied system. Sporting phasers that supported sustained firing abilities and disruptor beams, four sustained laser canons and a missile silo, the term "shuttle" didn't quite apply anymore.
***
Eight warp signatures shot out across a binary star system that had one large white-hot star and a smaller, orange one locked together in an eternal dance. Around them were a bunch of space rocks, absolutely crowding the space in the solar system.
Like birds on perches, Draconixes stood, silent guards keeping watch. At the signs of intruders, their rockets fired up and they moved in to intercept. Taking off from the rocks were the hordes of other Hoof-Talon warships.
"Decisions decisions..." Phineas thought, watching the oncoming wall of metal amidst the meteors. Which ship was he going to focus his attention on?
The Heavy Ballistics vessel sent forth a flurry of missiles. They left a dark vapor trail behind them as they curved in between space rocks and detonated in the heart of the advancing units. The paneling covering the Spell-core blaster floated with beams of magical energy binding the plates in rotation, charging up a blast while the escort ships strengthened the shielding around the weapon specifically, to prevent it from being interrupted.
The lethal glowing storm stretched out from the Hoof-Talon ships, the Draconixes channeling magic into their palms, compressed collections of energy manifesting in between their glowing claws and then being projected into a scattering blast of orbs and beams.
Rays speared through the empty space and blew through the space litter indiscriminately. The ones that met their mark were directed on the heavy weapons platform, which held out despite the focused punishment. That was not going to remain true for long, though. The fight here wasn't meant to be an uncontested victory, laying waste to the legionaries. It was a time sensitive endeavor.
Get in, retrieve the vital tech and get the hell back out again.
***
"He'shus Ch'rast, we're going in hard!" Phineas heard one of the aliens in an escort ship shout over his comms.
"Strap in!" another replied. There was an audio artifact that sounded like a pop, followed by strange exclamations and the high pitched sound of laser cannon fire.
The escorts sent their tiny blasts into the chaos as the Heavy Ballistics vessel pounded enemy ships into dust. With the Marauder pulling up from behind the immediate line of enemies, it adjusted its inclination to aim the powerful energy cannon at the gigantic ship and sent the magical plume across the plane of battle.
Ships that weren't even hit by it -those that happened to be in the general vicinity of the spiraling blue beam- paused in mid flight then promptly exploded. Shredded hull floated away from the Marauder, part of the golden beak deformed and stripped away. It prevented its weapon bay from opening and thus limited the excessive firepower which would have cut the fight short.
"It's now or never, Startrot!"
Phineas pulled ahead, bobbing in between the exchange. Gunning the engines, he came up around a cruiser, pummeling its shield with sustained laser beams until it was depleted then hit it with twin disruptor beams in the cockpit and engines, rendering it unable to adjust its heading at all.
Phineas knew he just made the ship he was going to EVA over to coast through a labyrinth of jagged space rocks without any means of control, be it directional or in terms of acceleration. He was aware of this fact, but far from happy about it. He had his shuttle's automation take control, matching relative speeds with the cruiser. He took the PDA and put it back around his wrist, activated his suit's life support system, unstrapped from his seat and controls then drained the cockpit of air.
The screen went up and he flew out with short bursts of his jetpack. "Been a while since I've done this," he thought as he came down onto the hull, magnetic hoof-clamps anchoring him to it. "Though if I recall correctly, I wasn't in immediate danger of dying then..."
He deactivated the clamps and pulsed forward, searching for an entryway. Coming across a hatch, Phineas reached into his tool kit and pulled out his Harmonizer, cranking its power output to high and then proceeding to carve a groove into the edge of the normally airtight door, the prongs of the tool bright like a welder's torch.
***
When he was finished with that, Phineas swapped out the Harmonizer with his crowbar and pried the hatch open effortlessly with his Earth pony strength.
He entered the airlock and repeated the process with the internal sluice, a short hiss of air marking the decompression of the room beyond when he forced the internal door open. Two Hoof-Talon soldiers had rushed to investigate the breach, finding the compartment's atmospheric pressure to be nonexistent. As they tapped in a command on a keypad strapped to their chests, Phineas charged at them, hover-platform rifles firing. He gunned one of them down and was already in melee range by time the other deployed their blaster from their pack.
Phineas reared; two jabs -one for each side of their head- leaving the Hoof-Talon dazed. It fired wildly, their shot turning a small part of the opposite wall into glowing slag which splattered onto the floor. The silver stallion fired his thrusters and swung his hind legs out, smashing the Hoof-Talon's head into the wall and making it drop to the floor.
Two quick shots from the rifles made sure it stayed down.
By taking the device one of them wore on their chest, Phineas was able to open subsequent doors without having to cut his way through them first. It made his progress through the cruiser easier: firstly, he had a map which he used to find the most direct route to the cockpit. Secondly, his appearances always took the Hoof-Talons he came across by surprise. Before they were able to raise their shield, Phineas sent magi-bolts through their heads.
***
He made it to the cockpit after sneaking through the hallways, any confrontation over and dealt with swiftly enough. He found it weird how much the cruiser reminded him of the Desolus, with the strips of light running along the walls and the terminals with a full keyboard angled out from underneath the monitors, but that was no longer a concern when he opened those last doors. The door was split into two parts at a diagonal and they pulled away with a mechanical hum.
The Hoof-Talons inside were busy tapping away at buttons and monitoring scrambled screens to acknowledge the sound of the doors parting. They did not even get the chance to look at the armor clad stallion, who jetted into the room, his energy blade extended. He could not have risked damaging the equipment he was supposed to retrieve by firing his guns.
Of the six hybrids that were desperately trying to restore control over their ship, none were standing. Limbs were scattered, wounds cauterized. The bodies laid in heaps of singed fur and feathers. Only one of them still lived, twitching and jerking. An arm had been sliced off, along with a leg. It reached out with their remaining forelimb, the arm trembling, talons twitching. With labored breaths, the Hoof-Talon rasped: "Filth..." then let their self fall limp.
Phineas stared down at the dead Hoof-Talon with the impassive gaze of his helmet.
"Well... at least at the end you weren't so high and mighty, were you? You spoke to me... that has to mean something..."
Sighing, Phineas pulled out his Harmonizer and began to dissect the cruiser's navigation computer, taking advantage of the lack of power to disassemble the device and put its components in his toolboxes.
"Stage one complete. Time to get moving-"
He raised his PDA to see an alert from his shuttle. A proximity warning: the cruiser -and by extension, the shuttle- was on a direct course with an asteroid, unsurprisingly enough.
"Could've come up at a worse time," the stallion thought with a shrug, then activated his thruster pack, shooting out of the cockpit then down his route in reverse.
***
Startrot flew out from the external hatch and got back into his shuttle, swiveling his boosters to get him into his seat. He strapped in, brought the canopy down and repressurised the cockpit. He tore away from the cruiser thereafter, which collided against the hunk of rock and metal moments later, leaving its mark with a crater in an expanding surge of flame.
"Mission accomplished. I got the parts. Lets go put them to work!" Phineas reported to the others, which were still battling the swarms of other ships, bombarded by the Hoof-Talon assault.
Some invisible cosmic clock was ticking down the final moments of the Hoof-Talon legion somewhere out in the vast reaches of space. Phineas returned to the rebel outpost hidden by the space clouds, shocking the Resistance with genuine Hoof-Talon technology taken straight from one of their ships.
"How did you acquire these parts?" he was asked more than once when he presented the technology to rebel members in the station's manufacturing level. There, weapons were already being constructed, muscular aliens hauling hulking pieces of metal and armaments around while others worked machinery and used magic to assemble things. There was a constant din of noise in the background as the rebels worked on producing and stockpiling their arsenal.
"Very carefully," Phineas replied, not too eager to delve into the specifics of infiltrating a cruiser and systematically exterminating the crew. Instead, he explained to them what he concluded about the galactic plague: telling them the story of the special Shu'badi who spearheaded a movement aboard a Marauder and the things he learned about the hybrids as a result.
"This equipment," Phineas stated, gesturing to the various bits and pieces of electronics laid out on the table, some having wires and couplings sprawled out on the table they rested on, others having cores which changed colors in a prismatic fashion. "Should it be integrated into ships across the galaxy, will allow us to track down the Hoof-Talon ships even out in deep space. It will allow us to find every single Marauder in this galaxy and make it possible to eliminate the Hoof-Talons once and for all."
"Fight the most powerful of the Hoof-Talon's ships?" he was asked. "Surely you know how daunting a task this is!"
"It isn't if we work together!" Phineas responded zealously. "It has already been done, a Marauder and the legionaries under it defeated in full!"
He panned his blue eyes across the crowd of disbelieving aliens, beings who have known nothing but strife and the intensity of battle since their very first days. Many of them have been alive for hundreds of years, knowing only of the sorrow and anger bred by the galactic war.
"Believe me, as we speak many who took part in the battle are spreading the word across the stars. All across the planets you may have settled on, your homeworlds, the fringe worlds where my kind have retreated to, the final call to battle is upon us all! Don't let it pass you by or who knows how bad the Hoof-Talons will get in the future!" Phineas said, putting all of his hope into his words. If he failed now, all was lost.
Failure meant the Hoof-Talons would reevaluate their weaknesses, adapting and evolving into even worse threat. It meant even more death and destruction. Seeing that the crowd gathered around him was hard pressed to jump at a few inspirational words, the silver stallion's expression darkened and his mood soured. He bared his teeth and exclaimed: "Don't you all understand, damn it!?"
He flashed each individual face he could make out in the rows and rows of rebels standing in front of him in a roughly semicircular formation a furious flare.
"First they take entire solar systems for their own. Then they move onto controlling all shipping lanes across the galaxy. Then they move into the regions of space that they don't control. I have seen what a single Marauder has the capability to do, it is only a matter of time until they start moving in on your worlds... and if you think you'll go down fighting then, they will annihilate you and the worlds you are trying to protect!"
"You speak words of fear and paranoia, pony!" Phineas heard someone shout from the back of the crowd. "The Hoof-Talons do not destroy planets! What makes you think-"
"Are you fucking kidding me!?" Phineas bellowed, shooting into the air with his jetpack to scowl down at the group. Others who were busy with their jobs paused to look at the fuming stallion.
"Ignoring that fact that I have seen what they have at their disposal with my own Celestia-damned eyes," Phineas snarled, pointing to them with his hooves, "do you think it's an impossibility? That our weapons fueled by magic and technology would not one day be used to destroy entire planets!? Newsflash, and this is coming from a pony who has been in stasis for almost four-hundred-fucking-years- it's already happening!"
Phineas's thrusters cut out and he let himself drop back to the metal floor of the construction deck, panting out of exasperation. He could have sworn for just a few moments, the deck had become silent, the noises of building and machinery ceasing in the wake of his outburst.
"Look, all I'm saying is: if we wait any longer then we'll just end up with more misery. The Hoof-Talons have had this coming to them for the longest while. Together, as one, we can drive them back and finish them off. All we have to do is act."
Phineas sat on his haunches as the murmuring and debate broke out between the gathered rebels. He was exhausted after tempting fate by going up against a legion of enemy ships without support, launching an offensive against a Hoof-Talon capital ship from the inside and then going on an infiltration mission to retrieve the vital technology that would give the Resistance the advantage they needed to win the war.
That short episode took the rest that he had to offer. He spent so much energy fighting the Hoof-Talons, he did not expect to have to end up fighting the Resistance as well!
***
The first priority of the Resistance endgame was not launching the all out attack against the Hoof-Talons. Rather, it was the distribution of the most recent innovation to aid the war effort. Freighters were loaded up with the modified telemetry devices, now converted into Hoof-Talon tracking devices. They jumped the distances in between stars, escorted by warships, delivering the equipment to rebel bases and outposts. They were as readily installed onto combat issue ships as the weapons which they depended on to butcher their foes.
It was not long at all before production of the tracking devices branched out across the rebel territories. Ships were being equipped to handle Hoof-Talon opposition exponentially, and the fabled shift in the tide of war was not too far behind. No longer was fighting the hybrid forces a gamble of insane risk.
The various factions of the galaxy joined as one, sweeping across the sectors and hunting down the enemies which lurked in the shadows. The wreckage of Hoof-Talon legionaries was strewn across many a star system, perhaps one day fated to eventually form their own celestial bodies. Asteroids and dwarf planets, spawned from the metal used in the construction of their spacecraft.
The Marauders were imposing and struck fear into the hearts of many, but in spite of their size and fearsome power, they were no match against the unified forces of the rebellion. The searingly bright explosions which marked their deaths were seen in the hundreds across the galaxy, the diminishing might of the Hoof-Talons incinerated with each consecutive blast.
***
And what of Phineas Startrot, the prideful pony who fought through his struggles to make a name for himself? The one who survived the onslaught of his starship and was thrusted into the future so grim and bleak? His time of fighting had come to an end...for now at least. He rocketed through the changing gulf, exploring the galaxy as per his life's dream, cataloging the sights and wonders that he would observe from his telescope back on Earth, upon that grassy hill on the outskirts of Ponyville.
He was a pony who finally understood the importance of comradery and friendship...a lesson which the Equestrian council sought to teach him before the vanguard of tragedy struck. Nearly four hundred years later, he grasped the message...but he was just as alone now as he was before, except whereas he was blind to his desire for friendship then, he was more than aware of it now.
But he was still a stranger in a strange time...one that was admittedly on its way to getting better, but one where he felt like an outsider all the same. Even his own kind were alien to him and Equestria was all but a faded memory, a waning moon to be forgotten by the start of the next lunar cycle.
At one time in his life, he wanted to be known as Phineas Startrot: Elite Star Commander, first class. It was a position inherently demanding of respect and admiration, a position held by legends and heroes for whatever deeds they may have done in the name of furthering the advancement of Equestria's expansion into space. Had any Star Commander done the things he had done? Could any one of them claim they had defeated a cybernetically enhanced dragon with the use of a space shuttle? Could any of them claim to be part of the catalyst which spurred on the reclaiming of the galaxy? Could any of them claim to be ruthless murderers, who struck first, swift and true?
Because of this, Phineas did not want recognition for his actions. He was sure his cause was noble and that there were no other alternatives he could have gone for, but that did not change the fact he had spilled blood. He was not going to accept praise and notoriety for his merit as a warrior.
So he was off alone, heading deep into the far reaches of the galactic arms and star clusters, the shuttle leaving streaks of vibrant purple in its passing in the darkness of space.
Likewise, an ethereal trail glowed in the darkness, tiny wispy limbs branching off from it, drifting apart in space like the contrails of a jet. The light was a cyan color with hints of deeper turquoise and emerald.
The trail was identical to the trail left by the Iopteryx as it left the starship of the same name ruined in the infinite immensity.
The Federation shuttle was currently on an intercept course with a populated "hive" world: a place where many of the galaxy's space faring races congregated in gigantic metropolises. These grand cities sprawled outwards for tens of miles, ripe with jobs and opportunities for those they may concern. Like most things, the good came with the bad; unity was not uniform in the wake of the Hoof-Talon threat. While alliances and extended republics were forming across the stars, others with more personal motives saw an opportunity to reap the niche left by the legionaries.
Some hive worlds were taken under the charge of the assembled forces responsible for the extermination of the Hoof-Talons when they liberated the star systems claimed by the hybrids; others became bastions of lawlessness. The Hoof-Talons were a threat to all, and now that they were gone a power vacuum was created -it was only a matter of time before something else grew strong enough to plunge the galaxy back into turmoil on the scale of the Hoof-Talon menace if left unabated.
But from now on, there would be heavy contest for anything of the sort. Whereas the lawless worlds were a constant forge of the hardened, the ones under the protection of the Harmony were stellar sanctums. The Harmony was a stretch of territory spanning many galactic sectors and this space was heavily patrolled and enforced strict neutrality. Any ships found antagonizing any region within the territory were justly dealt with by those which had become paragons of justice...or machines.
While the Hoof-Talons gained their vast superiority in technology through atrocious crimes of science and nature, it did not change the fact that their advanced knowledge had great potential for use for more benign purposes than mindless war and bloodshed. One such development to arise from hybrid technology was completely automated spacecrafts. These law enforcing drones were the key in safe guarding the many territories held by the Harmony. It was rumored that the guild of do-gooders was instituted by a Seapony of notable mechanical inclination, giving rise to its defining asset.
While it was unlikely that he would ever cross paths with the Shu'badi again, Phineas was glad to have picked up some possible news about what his short time companion was up to in these changing times. It was better than assuming he and Uolix never got far beyond their escape pod -better than assuming they had died a long time ago and were not around to see revolution in action.
***
The black and white craft came down through clear, noon skies in a gentle descent, swooping across a hilly savannah with yellow grass blowing in a gentle breeze. In the distance on the plains was the titanic city that put the Equestrian launch hubs to shame. A huge wall stood at the city's outskirts and from above, the roads meandering out into the untamed wilds of the alien world were visible. Monolithic structures rose thousands of feet into the air, with several levels of the city branching out from them, suspended in the air in some magnificent and stomach churning way. The city of Cloudsdale was an example of a floating settlement, but it was completely made of clouds and only the winged races of Earth could have set hoof/claw/paw onto it.
This place was a place of heavy industrialization. Metal and smoke defined the skyline for miles upon miles. This was a place where all races could go anywhere. The ship-city of Gallopso wasn't anything like this!
Phineas brought the shuttle to one of many spaceports, one more oriented for civilian use. It wasn't a gigantic bay where freighters and other similarly sized ships were being tended to. It was morel like a hangar for jets and shuttles, fittingly enough. With the exception of a few space ships -one of which was Phineas'- the hangar was filled mostly with strictly air transports: small speeders which constantly zipped through the skylines on routes designated by beams of bright blue light and holographic signs.
"Wahey! Welcome to Xan'tu!" a voice greeted Phineas after he had started to climb from the shuttle's ladder to the platform it docked with. The sound was like that of a squeaker... passed through a grater.
The armor clad stallion dropped the rest of the way onto the platform the last few rungs of the ladder and looked to the speaker. It was an especially small alien, pinkish flesh with large black eyes. Its head was small in comparison to the rest of its chubby body and its arms were constantly arranging collections of flesh. It was in a white suit which accentuated the alien's round form with blocky compartments and pockets.
"Thank you," Phineas replied, inwardly preparing himself. Xan'tu was one of the hive worlds that suffered from a bad reputation. A reputation that was not unwarranted, however, and caution was always advised. This little unseemly alien could full well be a psychopath!
"What is your business here?" said the little thing with a wide grin on its face.
"A bit over excited, aren't you?" Phineas replied, circumventing the question. The alien's behavior made him uncomfortable and a quick glance over to his HUD displays showed that he was all alone in the parking hangar. Alone except for this tiny alien.
"That's a nice ship!" said the alien with a glimmer in its eye. "Runs like a dream, rare too! That armor you have on looks pretty unique too!"
"I see where this is going," Phineas thought, feeling a surge of anger. All he wanted was to get something to eat and go through the information he stored on his PDA, all the holographic data and images he had collected over the course of his trip across the stars!
"Yeah, and my ship and armor are my property. You'd best fuck off before you start something you will regret," snarled the stallion.
"But why so rude!?" the alien exclaimed playfully, tauntingly at that. "I'm not the one who will give you trouble!" it added, flailing its gelatin arms.
"You're not the-" Phineas muttered, only to have the alien fish out what looked like a communicator out from a compartment from its suit.
"Flood in and kick his shit!" the alien roared into the device, their voice deepening in tone by many multitudes.
"You son of a bitch!" Phineas snarled.
"I'm a woman!" the alien replied, causing Phineas to cock his head in confusion for a short moment. As the pink being reached for something else their pockets, the stallion sprung into action.
His jets deployed and he was back on the ladder in a heart beat, the canopy raising up to allow him access back into the shuttle. If he could avoid unnecessary violence, he would. He strapped in with well practiced speed and method and was seconds away from launching out of the hangar when he heard the muffled thudding against the windshield. Turning his head, Phineas saw that the small alien had grabbed onto the ladder just before it had retracted and was now... hitting the screen.
"... Really?" thought the silver stallion. It would have been comical if it wasn't so bizarre. He didn't get to laugh though, as he saw several doors sliding up on the far wall of the hangar, the light beyond them letting distorted shadows creep into the chamber. Many of them, at that.
"Federation protocol strictly states that operators of a vehicle have to be inside and strapped in at all times, damn it! What happens to you is your own damn fault!"
Phineas powered up the shuttle and shot out of the exit, the alien thrown prone by the sudden acceleration and their flesh-arms flopping about in the wind, desperately trying to keep a grip on the sleek shuttle. At first it was doing a good job, its arms spreading and acting like some kind of glue which kept the alien attached to the windshield, but over the course of the high speed flight several hundred meters in the air, the alien's hold failed. Its fleshy arms peeled from the glass and took to the wind, the alien then shooting off from the shuttle to plummet the long distance to the ground.
"You crazy fucker!" Phineas snarled. How could anyone die for such stupid and trivial reasons?
***
Before long, the shuttle had integrated with the lines of aerial speeders that tore through the skies in between the giant buildings, following the defined paths laid out by the ghostly lights winding above the expansive city. Its pilot wondered about that small alien which had undoubtedly become a smear on the ground. Would the occurrence have scarred anyone? Would it have taken someone by surprise and cause some chain reaction of devastating proportions? Or would it be like Gallopso, where no one paid the body any thought, didn't spare a passing glance?
The Hoof-Talons might be gone but their defeat definitely did not fix every problem. In fact, it might have created a few more problems in the long run, but those things were irrelevant given the nature of the hybrid threat. Recovering though the galaxy may be, in the space between stars, scenes of hostility and brutality were still playing out and they it was unlikely that they would ever end. It was a harsh and undesirable truth, but it only strengthened the resolve the pony had to live by his pledge.
So the Hoof-Talons might be gone, but that didn't mean there weren't others willing to fill the void left by their fall. If one sought evil, they would surely find it. That was especially true of Xan'tu and the other hive worlds like it. While he knew he would never be able to rid the galaxy off its undesirable aspects and he would never be able to save everyone, Phineas did promise to take a stand when he was able to.
So in the age that he helped usher in, Phineas would continue to live decently and lend aid to those who need it. Things were getting better, and there will be a few breaks in between... but in the end, the fight will never be over until his eyes closed for good...
One last panel was put back into its place, then bathed in a magical glow that made it light up hotly. After a few applications of the Magi-Flux Harmonizer, the silver stallion smiled and pulled himself away from the instrumentation panel of his shuttle. His helmet was resting on an especially bulky terminal while he wore the rest of the gray spacesuit.
"Well that should take care of that," Phineas muttered to himself as he inspected his latest modification to the spaceship. In addition to solving the problem of his craft lacking a proper communication device, he added something more... pressing concerning the matter of his continued survival in space.
He put the Harmonizer back in his toolbox and then climbed into his seat, leaning back into it and sighing contently. Phineas tapped a button on his PDA and a soft whir of machines hidden behind the cockpit's walls became audible. Shortly after a tray slid out from his array of consoles in front of him and from a slot in the machinery came a white tube. It plopped onto the tray softly and in a most unimpressive manner, but Phineas' smile broadened.
He took the tube, popped open the cap and began to squeeze its contents into his mouth: the nutritional gel that he had come to take a liking to. Having a supply on board his ship meant he didn't have to make pit stops on every planet that may have had some wayward, backwater settlement on it whenever he grew hungry and the best part was that he didn't even need a spoon!
When he was finished with his meal, Phineas pressed another button and a small aperture opened off to his left. He tossed the empty tube into the chute and let the recycling system tend to it. He put his forelegs behind his head and grinned. He couldn't have remembered a time when he was so... relaxed. He hadn't needed to fight for his life in recent days. In fact, acquiring the parts and food stores to make his little delivery system had been surprisingly simple.
"Just goes to show that a few repair jobs on a fringe world goes a long way, huh Phin?" the stallion said to himself with a certain smugness in his tone, looking out at the multitude of lights dotting the darkness outside of his view screen. The star map projected onto it showed that the shuttle was coasting away from that sector of space, leaving a network of trade routes and a web of drone-ships patrolling the area for unlawful activity.
This time of reprieve from his many struggles would soon prove itself to be transient, as is the way most things are. The fight Phineas swore to fight was not one that ended with any victory. Rather, it only extended further with every new enemy that appeared as many close encounters on various hive worlds would stand as testament to. However, not every one of his victories were certain... and old foes hungry for revenge promised to be his most harrowing opponents to date.
***
Phineas woke up to the chiming of his PDA, sitting up in his cot and bracing for the sudden brightening of the lights. He brought the device up to his face and looked at the alert his ship was informing him about.
"Distress signal...?" Phineas asked himself groggily, rubbing his eyes with his other hoof.
He brought up the holographic display, the sphere of light punctuated with representation of the stars and territories in the galaxy. One star a several parsecs away from his current position had a red pulsating triangle marking the general origin of the beacon. The fact it was on the very edge of Harmony controlled space made Phineas assume it was the work of pirates acting on the outer limits of authority, striking while there was still a chance of escaping the automated enforcers.
"We'll see about that!" he growled, a flash of determination in his eyes. With rehearsed swiftness he suited up and sped to the cockpit. He strapped himself into his seat, linked up to the ship's controls and prepped his warp drivers for jump. Phineas was certain he'd be able to catch the perpetrators and put an end to their nefarious deed, but just as he was about to enter the fray, the signal disappeared.
He wasted no time in committing to warp, the bubble of energies surrounding the ship before it shot off into the void of space. He had to act quickly, for he feared the craft being assaulted was crippled or already destroyed.
***
Phineas' arrival at the star system was marked by a burst of light exploding in all directions, the black and white ship hurtling out of the prismatic blast toward the first energy signatures he detected. One of them alarmed him greatly, for it was one he recognized. It was a large Hoof-Talon vessel, perhaps a carrier or something of the sort; and with its presence came a slew of unfortunate implications.
"The plan failed. There are still Hoof-Talons out there," was the thought that disturbed Phineas the most, resonating in his mind and quite near petrifying him. He sat at his controls, frozen, almost desynchronizing with the ship as he rocketed toward the scene.
A warning of critical synch-levels was what roped Phineas' focus back to the matter at hoof. "Right then," he told himself. "how they escaped the telemetry-honing is something you'll sort out later. Right now, you've got something more urgent to deal with!"
As Phineas drew closer to the conflict, he saw two ships looming over a lush planet that seemed almost uniformly jungle based across the landmasses on one hemisphere. The planet was blocking its star, so its light were spires towering from a bright crescent which gave way to shadows.
Of the two vessels, one was a burning husk. Phineas could see from its punished exterior that it had been subjected to all kinds of weaponry, from focused energy projection to ballistics and high ordnance explosives. In a maintained state, the craft would have been a long and roughly egg-shaped; with a smooth hull, rounded bumps and hubs providing mounts for its turrets and other offensive weapons. As it was now, however, it was blackened and torn. Its hull was shredded and perforated and in some parts, the bare supports of its internal structure was exposed. Spans of girders were bent and seared but had yet to fail entirely, keeping the decimated bulk together; though barely at that.
The other ship on the other hoof -the one that was supposedly under attack if the distress signal was to be believed- was in perfect condition. Its forward end was like an arrowhead, sporting a pointed tip which broadened out at the rear and transitioned to a narrower portion the rest of the way to the ship's main thruster. Extending from its starboard and port sides was an array of solar panels directed towards the sun, creating magnificent shades and sunbeams behind and around them. It seemed to be more of a scientifically inclined ship, with no visible weapons to speak of.
Needless to say, Phineas found it all to be a confounding juxtaposition.
***
He approached the situation as sensibly as he could, first by opening communications with the surviving ship.
"What is the meaning of your distress beacon?" he asked. No response. He elaborated with his next message about a bit more than half a minute later: "You appear to have destroyed an upper scale Hoof-Talon vessel in a matter of minutes... it's just a bit strange you would request assistance if your ship has that capability..."
No response. Phineas' confusion quickly turned into safe cautiousness. Something wasn't right here, that was obvious. But what was-
"You."
The stallion's breath caught in his throat at the voice. There was a grating, raspy quality to it that Phineas recognized. It was the voice of a hybrid... something he thought he would never hear again. He was already piecing the scenario together in his head: a Hoof-Talon ship bombarded by raids, escaping the collective wrath of the many races in the galaxy. While managing to avoid outright destruction, the ship was no longer able to sustain its crew and thus they went after another, one that would not raise the hostilities of those that now outnumbered them exponentially.
"As the sole remaining force of our once-great kind... we vowed to find and reap vengeance from the instrument of our ruin... but it turns out you came to us..."
In the way of this, Phineas came to recognize a set of truths. The Hoof-Talons were on board the science vessel, having teleported onto it and seized it as their own; its original crew was probably dead... or kept alive for the explicit purpose of experimentation and torture; and to top it all off they recognized the pony that proved integral in the collapse of their empire of terror.
"... Aw fuck..." he thought.
"You have a penchant for defying the odds, federation pony..."
"I see my reputation has spread a bit more than I expected, eh?" Phineas replied, attempting to hide his growing anxiety. He did not like where this was going.
Without acknowledging the quip, the Hoof-Talon continued: "... then come here and finish the war that you started. We will be waiting... as well as the vermin we have taken as our spoils. But hurry... I do not think they will last too long..."
When the transmission was cut, all that was left in the cockpit was dead air. Lives were at stake... and Phineas was being challenged personally!
"Fine. If you want me, then fine. Just know what it is you're messing with when you take on a stallion named Startrot," Phineas growled beneath his breath as he brought the shuttle in for approach.
He couldn't risk engaging with his cannons and missiles, but as an entrance on the underside of the scientific vessel began to open, Phineas blasted the ship with twin disruptor beams, causing the door to cease function just when it was almost finished moving. He flew into the holding bay, knowing that he would not be trapped inside the ship with the band of hybrids.
It was very dark in the holding bay. Silhouettes of large metal crates were visible amidst the shadows, highlighted by the emergency lights which cast a faint red glow from ports in the ceiling. Platforms and walkways were suspended over the bay and at the corners of the roughly cubic chamber were large rounded pillars. These pillars had circular plates with three light ports, but they too were dim and offered little illumination at all. With its entrance hanging open still, this part of the Hoof-Talon occupied ship was subjected to the absolute silence of the vacuum.
After depressurizing the cockpit, Phineas raised the shuttle's screen and set off into the bay, jetting over to the floor and securing himself with the magnetic grip. His boosters folded away into his suit and he floated out the hover-platform rifles, the soft blue light they shed reflecting off of his armor. He saw the dull silvery tint of the chamber's walls and the bolts in the steel boxes which towered over him thanks to his visors, which filtered in and amplified the low lighting. The darkness would not be a hindrance, but it would not work in his favor either. If the Hoof-Talons didn't have equipment for dealing with the darkness, then his own weapons would give away his position.
Phineas peeked out from behind the crates at one out of three large doorways leading into the rest of the ship. It looked secure enough, with three large metal latches that looked like they were firmly in locking position. He wouldn't be able to get them open with any small effort, whether the ship's systems were all active or not.
He poked his head out from the other side of the crate to the entrance opposite the last. It looked very much the same way; secure and impassible without some serious work, work which he didn't have the time to do. As he turned to look at the central doorway, he saw that the problem of infiltrating the ship had become moot. Sparks started to leap from the door, rising up following the bulwark's seal and then reaching the latches. The white hot line continued uninterrupted for the rest of the door's height, where the sparks then stopped and a smoky vapor wafted away from the cut.
The halves were pried apart with enough force to overpower the machines keeping them in place, the bisected latches coming out of their locks gradually. Though there was no sound hear, the resistance was evident by the next shower of sparks from the top and bottom of the door's parts as they slowly moved apart. A bright whitish-blue flash of light went off and there was no more struggle. The two heavy slabs rolled into the bay walls until they had nowhere else to go, coming to a quaking halt that reverberated through the chamber and caused the hanging platforms overhead to sway. The emergency lights flickered.
Phineas ducked down, bracing his back against the container as he saw the first of the group of hybrids pour into the holding bay. "I don't think they appreciated my little trick..."
***
Phineas inched towards the edge to look past the corner of the crate, spotting two Hoof-Talons combing the aisle it created with another one positioned five feet away. He could only assume that there was a similar sight waiting for him if he were to look on the other side of the crate, and that they were all a few moments away from converging on him. The last time he was caught in a situation like that, he barely got away with his life. He wouldn't go through that again if he could help it.
Acting in kind, Phineas retracted his rifles and turned to face the crate. With extreme care, he began to climb up its surface, regulating the pull his hooves had to make sure he wouldn't just find himself falling back into heap at their talons. He stopped just before the top of the metal box, just in case there were units keeping watch from above and eyed the floor. Sure enough, from either side of the crate two Hoof-Talon soldiers appeared. The four looked to each other and shook their heads before going on to patrol the rest of the holding bay.
It was then the thought occurred to Phineas: if the soldiers didn't find him, they would destroy his shuttle to make sure he couldn't escape, period.
"Can't allow that to happen!"
Now his mind was racing, formulating a plan with only one broad goal being the driving force: keeping their damn talons off of his ship. He activated his jetpack and deactivated the clamps simultaneously, shooting off away from the shuttle, counting on the light and energy spike to bait the soldiers. He came down on the other side of the holding bay and darted into cover, keeping tabs on his surroundings. His suit's readouts showed him the effects the suspense was having on his body, from his pounding heart to his rapid breathing. Another game of cat and mouse.
***
It wasn't long at all before he saw the first of the soldiers pursuing him. The Hoof-Talon's movements were as methodical and cautious as his own; something Phineas found a little humorous, in spite of the circumstances. These Hoof-Talons had apparently learned not to underestimate their opponent. Nevertheless, Phineas did not lose focus on the matter at hoof. He couldn't afford to, lest he find himself surrounded on all sides with weapons primed to tear him apart.
He slunk around the crate as the soldier approached from one side and then proceeded to climb. He wanted to get a visual on all of his enemies before he acted. He peeked over the crate and scanned the upper walkways for the black-suited Hoof-Talons. He saw two on a walkway and he braced himself for what he was about to do.
The hover platforms came out again and the rifles deployed. The aiming guide appeared in Phineas' vision, centered on one of the platform supports. He opened fire, the guns going off with their popping and screeching, magical bolts making quick work of a whole row of supports as Phineas panned them down the length of the scaffold. The walkway swung away from underneath the hybrids, the soldiers tumbling down it. Phineas was able to dispatch one of them -a single shot rupturing their suit and exposing them to the vacuum being enough without considering the damage the bolt did to their body- but couldn't get the other before the soldier activated their own boosters and leveled out over the bay.
The soldier returned fire with their droning blasters and Phineas kicked off of the crate. He took flight on his booster pack, hovering little over a foot away from where he was previously, which had been turned to molten slag in split seconds. Liquified metal dribbled into the crate and fell to the floor, vapor rising from the sludge. Appearing from over the crates on their own packs were the rest of the soldiers, numbering ten in all.
"At least they aren't screwing around with the shuttle!"
***
Phineas threw himself into a dive as the incinerating hail was sent his way. He saw his shielding materialize on more than one occasion before he was behind the crate and well after still, glowing holes left in the container. He hit the ground hard and tumbled behind another, bracing against it. By now all he could hear was the sound of his own heavy panting echoing within his helmet. Then he saw it land in front of him: an obsidian orb with two sallow rings wrapping around the center, pointy protrusions crackling with destabilizing magical energy. He immediately reached into his toolkit.
"I think one of you dropped this!" Phineas shouted as he rocketed up over the crate, the grenade suspended in a field generated by the Harmonizer. The energy surrounding it had been suppressed by the device, delaying the inevitable explosion substantially. Phineas pointed the Harmonizer toward a cluster of soldiers and with a strong pulse, sent the grenade soaring at them. They scattered before it was near enough to cause lethal damage, but it was enough to gain a moment of reprieve in the tense battle. The explosion of a vile green collection of flame and electricity didn't kill any, but the damage done to their suits was a major cause for concern that decommissioned a good chunk of the assault force.
Startrot took the opportunity to get on the offensive. He flew erratically through the storm of blaster fire, though a storm that had lost most of its drive. He had many ways to avoid harm: jetting upwards, diving, rolling from side to side. It was no different from piloting his shuttle through a barrage of enemy ships. He got into a close range confrontation with the four soldiers unaffected by the blast, and they were doing all they could to keep away from the silver stallion. Now they were the ones diving behind containers to avoid rifle shots, which only proved to be to their detriment as Phineas scooped up molten metal with his Harmonizer and chucked it at them. When one of them slammed down on a crate and prepared to return fire, they were met with a coating of slag to the face and upper chest. Though he could not hear their howl of anguish, the way they reared and grasped at the fluid torture was enough indication of their suffering. A single shot to the head ended it.
Once the favor of battle had shifted, the assault force did not have much longer to live. Their enemy had proven time and time again that he was a formidable -if not unlikely- warrior.
***
Eleven soldiers waited in ambush at the holding bay. In a matter of minutes, eleven soldiers were dead, strewn about the chamber, some sprawled out on the floors, others braced against crates, heads hanging limply. "One would think that the end of the line would be where you'd be most willing to change your tune," Phineas muttered as he searched the body of a soldier, finding another supply of grenades. Four more to add to the six he had taken already, he put them all in a toolbox. Unused, the grenades all had a casing covering their spines and when thrown, the casing ejected and armed the explosive.
"I suppose if there's anything good to say about you monsters, it's that you stick to your guns. No pun intended..."
Before departing the holding bay, Phineas took a Hoof-Talon helmet and filled it with six of his arcane grenades. After a quick and relatively simple application of the Magi-Flux Harmonizer, he had improvised what was essentially a selective proximity mine: using the suit's own sensors to detect other Hoof-Talons and arming the grenades when they were near enough. He moved the body he took the helmet from to the entrance of the holding bay and laid the trap down on the corpse to make it inconspicuous.
"Just stay away from the spaceship and no one gets hurt... simple enough," the stallion mumbled to himself as headed into the bay's airlock chamber.
The soldiers were waiting for him there, but did not count on the disruptor blast. Upon reaching the pressurized door, Phineas pulled out the Harmonizer and began to slice into its locking mechanism. With this crisis on their... talons, there was one place one the ship where the hybrids would be most concentrated around, and that place was the Spell-core engine room. He had to make sure they couldn't bring back the ship's power and he had to clear out the threat. Going after the Spell-core took care of both problems...
There was a puff of vapor from the sides of the door followed by a sharp hiss. It took only seconds before the sound gave way to silence, the air vacating the next section completely. Phineas put the Harmonizer back in its usual place and then moved the door aside just a bit, looking around it and making sure there wasn't another ambush waiting for him on the other side. He only saw an empty spherical room that had the same dim red lights shining like in the holding bay, however, and entered without further delay. There were several large computer screens and keyboards which contoured to the curves of the room, and Phineas inspected the darkened screens, curious as to what useful information he could have gotten from them. He approached one and sat on his haunches, resting his front hooves on the keyboard as if he were about to start punching in a command.
"I could really use a map or something to help me out here..." Phineas thought. Knocking the ship's systems offline gave him a tactical edge, but at the same time created a mounting list of disadvantages as well! With mechanically locked doors needing to be cut into and valuable information being inaccessible, this supposed "last fight" with the Hoof-Talons was going to be a difficult one indeed. Startrot was going to need to be especially cunning and resourceful for this undertaking.
And resourceful, he was.
"Wait a minute..." he said to himself, pulling out his Harmonizer and giving it a ponderous look underneath his helmet. The tool was able to generate and manipulate fields of magical energy, as shown by its effect on the arcane grenades. Perhaps it would be able to reactivate a terminal? Even temporarily? The prospect was one worth exploring, especially if it meant being able to restore power to key systems Phineas might need in order to proceed. And so, he wasted no time in taking the computer's outer paneling apart, delving into its assembly like the engineer he was, applying all his expertise with working with alien technology in the hopes of gaining even more knowledge; insight that would be invaluable in defeating the Hoof-Talon scourge once and for all.
***
"Just a little bit... here and..." Phineas murmured as he tilted the Harmonizer slightly, an energetic stream of voltage snapping and crackling within the terminal assembly. It flowed from the head of the Magi-Flux Harmonizer and ran through a myriad of coils and strange crystals. The light pulsated, a light purplish color as Phineas experimented with varying intensities and mana frequencies, attempting to jump start the terminal and maintain the charge long enough to use the thing.
"C'mon... there it is!"
The energy started flowing through the components and the screen flickered back to life. Alien symbols ran across the screen as it rebooted, Phineas could only guess it was some kind of crash report. At the sound of a beep, the terminal access prompt appeared and Phineas linked it up to his PDA, translating the display. In a matter of minutes he had a schematic of the scientific vessel at his disposal, and an incident log from one of the crewmembers who was on the lower level of the ship when the Hoof-Talons first mounted their attack. It was extremely brief, the PDA marking its run-time at just over forty seconds. Phineas decided to give it a listen as he made his away out of the formerly-pressurized room. Instead of cutting through the locking mechanism of the next door he came across, he found a maintenance panel similar to those he was already used to working with and started to bring about a temporary charge.
"Detected a large warp signature. Got a contact- a Hoof-Talon ship!? It's barely holding itself together, but we don't have any guns to finish it off! Captain's ordering a stellar jump-!"
That part of the recording was only thirteen seconds long. The rest of it had strange warbling sounds which seemed to distort the quality of the log, making it crackle with static and change pitch at random. Fragmented screams of the crewmember had a strange tinny echo to it, rapid clanging on the metal was evident of them fleeing. The start of a blaster's drone was audible for an instant before the sound cut out and when it picked up again an instant later, there was the trailing end of a loud metallic thud. The audio log ended with a click and a beep.
The door opened just then without any noise, the room ahead having been vacuumed out in advance. Phineas shook his head and put the Harmonizer back in his toolbox. The recording confirmed the scenario he had inferred earlier, with the added detail that the Hoof-Talons had started killing off the crew as soon as they came aboard. Though he wondered if there was anyone left to save on his ship, his resolve had been made stronger still to expunge the monstrous hybrids and finally put an end to their crimes.
***
Phineas walked through the doorway and it closed behind him. Grates on top of the walls and ceiling opened and started to flood the room with air again. As the stallion walked through he started to hear his hoofsteps against the floor paneling again. Being in absolute silence for so long, it came as a mild surprise that there was more to be heard on this ship other than the sound of rushing air!
He raised his PDA and started plotting his route to the Spell-core from the holographic map, trailing many twisting and winding hallways with his eyes. There was no straightforward way to reach it from where he was, but if he took an access lift up three levels then it would be an almost direct walk to the engine room. Of course, both phases of his travel would be handled with his jetpack.
"Now we're getting somewhere," Phineas thought. He trotted through the room and into a hallway that was badly damaged, blackened and melted panels galore. At the end of the hallway was a body inside of a deep orange spacesuit lying front-side-down. Upon closer inspection, the silver stallion found that the alien was a four legged being that stood upright, most likely a Yithith. The middle of their back had been thoroughly burned through and a hole in the wall just a few feet in front of the body showed at which height the Yithith had been shot. It didn't take much of Phineas' skills in deduction to figure out that this was the unfortunate crewmember from the log.
"Bastards... gunned him down when he was unarmed and his back was turned..."
Phineas did his best to shift his attention back to his attack on the Spell-core. He looked away from the body to the service lift entrance a distance of a few strides away. The Yithith was so close to escape... but what would have happened if it had made it onto the lift? Would the Yithith have just been killed when they got off?
Such questions did not help Phineas in any way, so he tried not to think about them. Instead, he pulled out his crowbar, forced the door open and then deployed his boosters. He shot off into the chute, a thick cable dangling in its center and lines of red lights illuminating it at bare levels.
***
Three decks up, Phineas slowed his ascent until he came across the elevator door marked by a large alien glyph off to the right followed by a dash and numeral. He jabbed the crowbar into the side of the door and cautiously pried it open, peeking through the small slit it created. He saw nothing but an empty hallway-
Two volatile crimson blasts tore through the door, catching Phineas off guard. The first of the blind shots severed the cable dangling behind him and sent it sprawling about as the two pieces flew apart, but the other one smashed into his magical shielding and shattered it in one hit. He cut power to his jets and let himself drop a short distance, grabbing onto the side of the shaft with his magnetic grip -crowbar still in hoof- and kicking a rear hoof into the wall to make it sound as if he had fallen all the way down, the bang resonating through the chute. He then waited, firmly planted on the wall, his rifles hovering on either side of him, their aim set upwards.
Sure enough, when the Hoof-Talon pushed the door open the rest of the way and looked down to confirm the kill, magical bolts assaulted its helmet, depleting its shields and then shredding its face. It fell forwards into the chute and Phineas ducked as it hurtled past. Several seconds later, the distant thud reached his ears.
"So that's how long it would have really taken to fall from this height. Huh, go figure..."
Phineas put the crowbar back in the toolbox and started to scale the wall, managing how much strength his clamps held on to the wall, so that the sound of his hooves making contact with the metal wasn't so loud as to draw more attention than what the sound of his rifles going off would have gathered. Sure enough, when he reached the door and poked his head up over the floor, he saw that a band of four had appeared, no doubt to investigate the disappearance of the now-deceased soldier. Phineas retrieved a grenade and lobbed it out into the open, the metal orb rolling across the way into the midst of the four before jettisoning its casing. Its spikes planted it down in front of them and just as they started to spread out, the grenade exploded, a rush of green washing through the hallway. Phineas ducked down as the emerald flames erupted through the doorway, licking inches above him before receding back.
When Phineas looked up again, the corridor was singed and the air was charged, arcs of electricity jumping from the walls and floor and even rising through the air itself...
The charred remains of the soldiers plastered the ashen walls energized in the wake of the explosion, as Phineas soon found after climbing out of the chute. A pile of deformed plates and shredded coupling created a short barrier a small distance down the corridor, the walls themselves bending outward, wrinkles spreading out from the dents. In a confined space, arcane explosives were a nightmare to behold!
But there was no time to marvel at the carnage. Though out of sight, the sound of a large group of enemies making their approach was unmistakable. Rapid thumping against a metal floor growing increasingly louder by the second. The whine of hover-platform rifles and the bellow of explosives did not fall upon deaf ears.
Phineas brought up the ship's layout, seeking refuge in its design. According to the projection, there was a maintenance entrance in front of him, buried by the rubble. "Of course!" he snarled. Would he have enough time to uncover the door? Would he even be able to open it, on the account of the whole hallway being warped?
He didn't leave finding out to chance. The pony charged forwards and threw himself down, taking cover behind the barricade of debris. The yellow eyes of his helmet peered over the blackened pile of metal, the ends of his rifles aimed down the length of the hallway. He pulled out his Harmonizer and a grenade and braced himself for what was sure to be a trial unlike any other.
***
The intersection at the end of the corridor formed a T. From either corner, pouring into the straight, came a flurry of inhibitors. They flew like darts down the hall and Phineas ducked down behind his cover, hearing them tink against the metal as they stuck on. Many more shot overhead, sinking into the far end of the elevator shaft.
"Didn't anyone tell you that it isn't polite to shoot blind!?" Phineas yelled to his assailants, chucking the grenade over the barricade of rubble. Its casing thumped against the rounded walls and the spiked orb embedded itself into the floor when it landed just short of the corners.
A flash of emerald washed over the scorched plating, the electricity racing outwards, ripping apart all that was in its way. The walls at the end of the passage way stood no longer, a jagged tear left where the entropic magics consumed them. Phineas screamed as he felt the fires himself; the electricity downing his shields without opposition and the concussive force of the blast throwing him and the pile backwards.
With his free hoof, Phineas held onto the edge of the shaft once again, dangling over the three-deck drop, bits of metal raining down beside and behind him. The front of his armor had been scorched by the arcane flames and a sickly vapor wafted off of him. His suit reported his life signs as erratic, his heart rate and breathing spiking and remaining as such as his body was racked with pain.
Trembling, he hauled himself back over the threshold, where he promptly fell onto his stomach and found himself in a coughing fit. "What kind of horrible magic is this...!?" He thought as he started willing himself to stand. It was as if his short exposure to the heat had sapped his energy, making it nearly impossible for him to carry on.
Through blurred vision, Phineas could see the survivors stalking towards him. This was it, he had evaded it time and time again; but now this was it, the final moments of his life. He was exhausted, in agony and on the floor, struggling despite his best efforts to stand up and meet his foes. The thought of his end being so... undignified made Phineas bare his teeth underneath his helm.
"To hell with that!" he snarled. His health monitors jumped a whole level. "A day will come when I close my eyes for good, but it won't be until long after you lot have been wiped clean from this galaxy!"
He started firing his rifles, the aiming reticle drifting about his dazed vision. The screaming of the guns was distant, a familiar sensation he felt before on the brink of death. "Not... until they have been wiped..."
All of his defiance came to bear on the Hoof-Talons closing in on him. He took sharpened rods and other bits of damaged plating and hurled them with the Harmonizer, missing outright or scoring the occasional glancing blow; though a few shrieks of pain at the peripherals of Phineas' consciousness told him he had done more critical damage by stroke of luck.
Like a wild animal backed into a corner, the stallion lashed out and triumphed. Yet more bodies lay strewn about the floor, stricken and slain. Their blood flowed into puddles creeping along grooves in the floor paneling like gutters of red. He continued to thrash for a while after the last soldier fell, striking out at enemies which were not there and enemies which were not even hybrids. Hallucinations of impossibly skinny ponies lingered in his muddled sights, twisted versions of ancient memories playing out all around him: his time at the academy and his eventual departure from Earth.
Familiar faces were distorted and horrendous to look at. His nightmares crawled up from the depths of his mind, dragging him back to rest with claws so sharp. Phineas tore his helmet off of his head and vomited, heaving violently and spewing bile onto the singed metal. Promptly after, everything slowed down for him. The pain faded away with the color... everything fading to an immaculate blackness.
***
He groaned loudly and his eyes flickered open, though he winced immediately because of a bright light shining directly on to him.
Bright light.
"Damn... I failed..." Phineas thought with the cold sting of defeat being a new pain to add to the dull aches he felt all over his body. In the time he was unconscious the Spell-core must have been reactivated; the Hoof-Talons had their ship back and-
Phineas tried moving but quickly realized he had been restrained. His forelegs were bound together, chains of blue energy circulating around his wrists. His upper and mid-torso were also tied up in the ethereal binding, forcing him to sit upright in a seat not designed with equines in mind. He was sitting with his tail sheath sticking in between his rear legs and his back uncomfortably rigid against the cushiony material the brace was made of, ironically enough. After a moment, Phineas' eyes adapted to the light and he saw that he was in what he assumed to be the ship's bridge. It was a quite spacious room with all sorts of intricate devices and machinery integrated with the walls, though such details were overshadowed by what was immediately in front of him.
Several bodies of the ship's original crew -ranging from Yithith, Ghanax and even a few Shu'badi- were stacked in front of him, bloodied corpses slashed and desecrated, their wounds so deep that Phineas could see into their bodies. On the back of the poor individual topping off the stack of bodies was his helmet, its impassive yellow eyes staring into Phineas' blue ones. It was a sight which twisted him up inside and that was reflected on his face, a disgusted scowl; his brows contorted in an expression of utter anger.
At the base of the morbid display was his utility pack and toolboxes, meaning he didn't have his hover rifles -as if he could have used them without his helmet- or his Magi-Flux Harmonizer. "Took away my tools? Fine, then. I'll just find another way to make you pay for this!"
Phineas felt a strong shove from behind. The seat he was in swiveled around and sure enough, he went from facing the back of the bridge to facing the front, the large angular viewing screen surrounded by all manner of displays and computers.
There was a gentle slope leading down from the command terminal and at the bottom, staring up and out of the viewing screen was a single being unlike any other Hoof-Talon. For one, it stood on two burly, saurian legs. It had a long reptilian tail that ended with a tuft of hair at the end, like a minotaur's. Their body was visibly muscular in spite of the chitinous armor it wore, with two large arms on broad shoulders, clawed hands, leathery wings and a head situated on a serpentine neck... the head that belonged to an ancient enemy of Celestia's Equestria. A jagged-horned changeling...
***
"... Ah...ha... ha ha!"
Phineas narrowed his eyes.
The figure turned around, first its neck then the rest of its body. "You're awake. Good," he said.
The stallion did not reply; what could he have said? He knew the voice but... it did not match this chimera's form. He expected a hybrid... but he got much more than he bargained for in meeting the Hoof-Talon leader. Hearing a hiss to his right, Phineas turned his head to look at a Hoof-Talon with heavily damaged armor. He heard another hiss to his left and as he turned to face the sound, another Hoof-Talon stepped forward from behind the seat. It brandished a set of claws, holding them high above the pony's head so that they were silhouetted by the white light shining down on him and then brought them to bear on his neck.
The silver stallion spat onto the Hoof-Talon's visor defiantly, glaring at it all the while as he felt its claws dig into his throat, its grip strangling. He was blacking out again when the chimera's voice echoed: "Cease."
Phineas pulled in deep breaths when he was released, tears flowing from his eyes as he stared hatefully at the Hoof-Talon.
"... We would not want him to die so soon. That would be a mercy, would it not? Especially after all of the crimes this one has committed against the Polymerization."
"So... is that... what you call yourself?" Phineas snarled in between breaths. "Because I've come to know you all as Hoof-Talons... just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?"
"I suppose, it is only logical that the lessers devise a simpler name in order to comprehend the presence of their superiors."
"Not so superior, now are you?"
For a moment, the chimera had no response to that. He only looked up at Phineas with an even, calculating stare. "Quite. You've done well to reduce my followers to just these two. Excellent work, I must say," he said.
"I've had lots of practice."
"I do not doubt it," said the chimera. "Being almost four hundred years old, I would expect your prowess in combat to be derived from much experience. It is a shame that the Federation did not breed more warriors the likes of you."
It was Phineas' turn to be quiet this time. He said nothing to the chimera and he could have sworn he saw the Hoof-Talon leader smile, revealing glistening fangs and a glint in his sapphire eyes. The chimera started walking up the incline, a slow leisurely approach. When he neared, he arced his neck over so that his face was leveled with Phineas over the ship's controls.
"Indeed... this is the warrior who has rallied the galaxy against us and has depleted our once great number... to three..."
"And you without any test tubes to grow your young!" Phineas said spitefully.
"Oh, I am sure this vessel will have more than enough resources to rebuild the collective. It will be most... humble beginnings, though, using such an inferior vessel. But I am confident that the Polymerization will rise again... but you needn't worry about that, pony. It will be after your time... but fear not. Your deeds won't... go to waste." The chimera's smile shrunk somewhat and their gaze turned malicious.
"What you should be concerned with is your... retribution. After all, your attempted genocide of the galaxy's rightful heirs cannot be forgiven!"
"Genocide?" Phineas spat indignantly. "And what do you call the mass murdering your kind did on a regular basis? The abductions... experiments... rape and torture!?"
"A means to an end."
"You horrid bastard."
"I would not expect you to understand. You would not know the implications... the responsibility that comes with my position. My kind were... chosen to be great... to dominate all others... by powers you could not dream of, pony."
Phineas snorted. "Who the fuck chose you to be anything!?"
"A creature the lessers call a Star Terror... but the Polymerization only knows it as God."
"... Are you kidding me?" Phineas deadpanned.
The chimera sighed. "The greatest warrior I have ever known... with a less than stellar intellect."
Phineas was now fuming. A Star Terror destroyed Earth... and the Hoof-Talons believed they were entitled to the galaxy because of one? It was just another case where it did not take brilliant deduction skills to grasp what he was just told. And it was something that made the stallion's blood boil.
"You listen here; you abomination of all that Celestia's sun ever shone upon," Phineas growled, "you were not chosen by any fucking god when your planet was obliterated! If anything, you and your kind were nothing more than a cruel joke, the punchline of which being so cosmic in scale and so sick in execution that I dare not think about it for too long!"
His head jerked to the side, the stinging backhand sending his vision spinning.
"Before we kill you, I think we will teach you humility, pony."
"Fat-fucking-chance!"
***
His mind was racing, an insatiable drive to act overtaking him. Almost instinctually, he activated the tail-blade because it was the only weapon he still had on him, the manifestation of energy taking the chimera and his Hoof-Talon subordinates by surprise. The chimera raised an arm to shield his eyes from it as he backed off, while the others lunged to pacify Phineas.
He bashed his bound forelimbs into the closest of the two, his formidable strength stopping the hybrid dead in its attack. He used it to swivel the seat around, running the blade across the other Hoof-Talon and taking off their front limbs in the process. They tumbled to the floor and came to a stop a few feet away, flailing its stubs in a panic. Phineas swiveled around again, slicing the first one in two right across the belly, warranting a disgusting gurgling squawk as it died then and there.
Phineas then put his wrists to the blade, overpowering the energy which restrained his forelimbs "Ha, that worked!"
"Detestable whelp!" the chimera roared. He beat his wings powerfully, launching himself up and over the terminals.
"Oh shit!" Phineas blurted out. He was able to undo the binding which kept his forelegs together, but there was still the matter of the energy which kept him glued to the seat! He pulled his tail blade up, hoping that it'd be a deterrent to the chimera and the proximity of the energy would weaken the remaining restraints.
It did one of those things.
The bindings which kept his torso locked in place shattered with a burst of light but not before the chimera came down on top of Phineas, snapping the seat from its base and sending the stallion tumbling towards the bodies of the crew. He hit the pile and sent it toppling over with many fleshy thuds and metallic bangs being audible thereafter.
The chimera rose from a crouched position in front of the silver stallion, splaying his claws threateningly. In response, Phineas reached behind him, grabbed his helmet, put it on and then assumed a combat stance, flicking his tail and making the blade buzz threateningly...
"And then there was one," Phineas snarled, his head held below his shoulders, hooves spread wide. The energy blade hummed and droned as the stallion whipped his tail about.
The chimera's lips curled, its pupil-less cobalt eyes seeming to stare past the pony with obvious fury. "As long as you still stand, there will always be two," he growled, his voice rattling and abrasive. The advanced hybrid stood to full height, towering over the armored stallion.
Phineas was wired, his body a coiled spring ready to spring at the most opportune moment. His eyes were glued on his opponent all the while beneath the yellow screens. "The hell are you going on about?" he spat at the chimera.
The Hoof-Talon leader crossed his arms. "Hmmph," was the hybrid's response. The anger that was once etched onto the chimera's face faded away, replaced by a bored visage.
Phineas raised a brow underneath his helmet. Just what was going on? What was with the Hoof-Talon's shift in expression? And how was it related to what he said-
"Duh."
The chimera nodded and almost immediately after, Phineas dropped to the floor. The drawl of blasters gave way to a screech and pop, the two crimson shots soaring over the stallion and smashing into the ceiling a few feet behind the chimera. The plating there exploded and for a short moment, the chimera was silhouetted again amidst a shower of light and sparks.
Phineas shot a look at the still-living Hoof-Talon. It had rolled itself over and was now sitting on its haunches, its rifles deployed and its stumps held to its sides.
"I do not know what to make of it," said the chimera. "Either you have delayed brilliance, or my last minion is incredibly sub par."
"It's no fault of their own," Phineas growled. "I'm sure the rest of their friends would agree I'm hard as hell to hit!"
The Hoof-Talon let out what sounded startlingly similar to a howl as it flapped its wings, taking to the air with a powerful thumping beat. "I will take out your tongue for that remark!" it roared as it dove abruptly.
Phineas threw himself to the side, landing with a grunt and a thud when his armor came down on the floor. He rolled over and spun around to face the remaining Hoof-Talon soldier. It was staring him down, its wing beats loud, the shadows of which ran across the stallion's body. "Take my tongue!?" Phineas yelled, "take my tongue with what!? Your beak!?"
He jumped back, a flurry of sparks erupting where he once stood, molten metal and scorch marks marking the spot. "What!? It's a legitimate question!"
The blaster fire smashed against the ground, Phineas racing ahead of the explosions of searing magic like he was back on the academy's racetrack. "Why. Don't. You. DIE!?" the Hoof-Talon bellowed. Whenever it changed tactics -firing where Phineas would be instead of where he was, for example- the pony would leap or slide across the floor to avoid the damage and continue dashing across the ship's command room. The chimera only continued to watch as if the confrontation was a spectacle, cold eyes locked on Phineas all the while.
"I refuse to die!" Phineas shouted. He sped across the room and hopped, letting his lower body swing forward. His tail blade retracted by time he hit the floor once more, with him sliding towards his utility pack. He grabbed onto it, flipped himself over and slipped it back on. It fastened itself into place on his back, a loud click and whir sounding off right after.
"Not while I still have business to tend to in this life!"
His boosters flipped out and Phineas roared off of the floor, arcing through the room, trailed by thundering blasts and sparks. He rolled and spun as he closed in on the Hoof-Talon, shot after shot narrowly passing him by. The stallion flipped end over end just a few feet away from the hybrid, bucking his rear legs into its midsection and casting it to the metal ground. It came down on a line of terminals, the screens all cracking, the consoles contorting around the point of impact, smashed and broken. There the Hoof-Talon lay, its body just as twisted upon its bed of demolished devices.
Phineas hovered, panting as he continued to eye the body, making sure the solider was truly dead.
"Even with the element of surprise, they failed." The chimera shook his head. "For shame."
"N-... Not over... yet."
The Hoof-Talon sat up on the jagged spread of simmering scrap, bones cracking. By time it pointed the killing end of its blasters at the gray-armored stallion, however, Phineas was in front of it, landing hard on his hooves. He stood in a low crouch, tail blade energies dissipating behind him. A simple front flip as he let himself fall had been turned lethal.
"I'm sorry... but it pretty much is."
The stallion looked away as the hybrid's halves started to peel apart into fleshy slices on the computers. He walked away from the grisly scene to where his toolboxes were resting side by side, surrounded by all the slaughter. He put them back on his flanks and then turned his sights on the chimera.
He was being watched still by the horrendous creature.
***
"I am compelled to congratulate you, Federation pony."
"Save the praise. I don't want it. Certainly not from you."
The chimera chuckled. "You are not gracious in your victory."
Phineas snorted. "Haven't won yet. Not while this ugly son of a bitch I'm looking at is still standing."
The chuckling continued. "I suppose you're talking to me, pony?" the chimera asked, arms spread.
"You're the only other one alive on this damn spaceship."
The advanced hybrid's chuckling escalated into dark, condescending laughter. Its eye flashed green, the jagged black horn on its head glowing. "Remember when I said as long as you are still standing, there will always be two?"
"It wasn't that long ago... and you were wrong, by the way," Phineas replied.
"Such ignorance... is so painful." The chimera donned a malevolent grin. "I can only strive to make sure your spawn do not share the shortcomings you have when it comes to your mental capacity."
"... What?" Phineas said flatly.
The chimera only proceeded to laugh even more, a strangely refined though deeply unsettling sound to behold.
"You wiped the slate clean and have allowed me the chance to improve the universe's chosen... surely my God works in mysterious ways..."
"But I suppose there is no point in delaying this any longer. Not when it will be over so quickly regardless." The chimera took on a more stout pose, somewhat hunched over, his shoulders seeming to bulge underneath his armor. His tail lashed the floor, the sound of the whipping echoing in the room caught in disarray, overtaking the eerie rattling hiss that escaped his umbra maw.
"I want answers," Phineas said as he readied himself for this confrontation: the definitive end to the Hoof-Talon war on the galaxy. It would be all too easy to rush into the battle, giving it his all -no, not even that- more than his all to bring this abomination down to its knees, but what he wanted to know while he still had the ability to find out was: what the hell this thing was planning. Why was it so damn smug, even now? Even after seeing him fight up close and personal?
"We all want answers, pony," the hybrid snarled. He started sidestepping to his left. Phineas did the same and in no time the two were circling each other, just over ten feet in between them. "ironically, the matter of getting them comes down to a question all its own."
"And what's that?" Phineas asked, keeping his guard up. No matter how eloquent this monster spoke, no matter how roundabout he replied, no matter how enticing his words were; Phineas would not be taken by surprise. Either he would be the one to strike first or the one to turn his enemy's attack against them.
"How far are you willing to go to know?"
Phineas' back was to the ship's viewing screen when the chimera's horn flashed. Without warning, Phineas found himself hurtling through the air, tossed effortlessly over the central control terminals, the floor sloping downwards and increasing the distance of his drop. He twisted around in the air as his jetpack engaged, coming to a hover over the incline. The Hoof-Talon started to laugh again, voice deepening more and more with each chortle.
"Earn your answers, Federation pony!" the chimera boomed, his voice matching the draconic attributes of his blended body.
"Magic," Phineas thought. "Of course the fucker has magic!"
"No retort? What is the matter? Not so witty when facing a true opponent?"
"Sorry, I'm easily distracted by shiny objects! Keep waving your horn around!" Phineas yelled. In response, the bodies and debris littering the room was sent flying at him, even the corpses of the chimera's minions. One by one, shards and bodies missed him by margins of feet and inches, the pony jinking around in the air, thrusters constantly swiveling.
"Dance! Dance! It pleases me greatly!"
"I'm not even gonna crack a joke about that shit!"
"Fair enough!" The chimera held out a clawed hand and the glowing of his horn intensified greatly. Phineas found himself frozen in the air caught in a jade aura, his forelegs forced to his sides. Two bodies smashed into him and he was held in place, left with no option but to take the pain that came with the impacts. "You might as well not waste your breath speaking, anyway. With the pain I will bring you..."
The chimera's chilling laughter returned. "With the pain... you will only be able to scream until you can't scream anymore."
"I'll have you know... I was part of the Royal Canterlot Opera. I could hold one hell of a high note-"
The chimera swung his arm to the side and Phineas was thrown with the motion, smashing into a computer screen and held there to feel the electrical jolt as sparks leaped before being driven into the floor.
"Tsk, tsk. What did I just tell you, pony? Do not waste your breath."
"Lesson... learned..." Phineas staggered to his feet, his HUD flickering in his view. When he looked to where the chimera was, he saw only empty space and a shadow looming over him. He didn't even get a chance to look up before the chimera's fist hammered down onto his back, flooring him without any resistance.
His clawed feet came down, shaking the floor beneath him with a heart-shuddering thud. Phineas felt a pressure around his head and found himself lifted by it, the chimera's face centimeters away from his own, the hybrid's neck coiled around itself like a snake waiting to strike.
"Do you not want your answers, Federation pony? Too bad... I was almost looking forward to this from how you-"
"Do not fucking patronize me!" Phineas roared, nailing the chimera twice with a right and left hook. The hybrid screeched, not expecting such strength from something so small. He released Phineas and before he fell, his boosters flared up again. Hit after hit thudded against the chimera's snout and the sides of his head. Punches, kicks, Phineas unleashed his pent up anger in the most primal of ways. The grief he had for the destruction of his homeworld... the ire which burned for the Hoof-Talons' retribution... they all blended together in that one moment.
"ENOUGH!" The chimera boomed, grabbing Phineas' rear leg as it shot out towards the chimera's neck. With a vicious swing, the stallion was tossed to the ground and stomped on. A scowl was on the hybrid's face and his eyes were ablaze... but then he calmed again, chuckling.
"It appears you have earned your first answer." The chimera raised its foot and kicked Phineas away with it. The silver pony rolled over a few times before stopping on his hooves. He shakily stood up, the Hoof-Talon unaware of the rage marring his expression underneath the helmet.
"Where do I begin? I suppose... after the Great Ascension," the hybrid started to say, tapping a claw against its chin thoughtfully. "our God gave me greatness and with it I led my chosen into the stars. There, they evolved into their true forms by the blessing of the God and we went on to claim what was ours. At the beginning, we indulged in the powers and pleasures of the lessers... but then we wanted them for ourselves. We advanced further, our fleets becoming stronger. We took the weak and rebuilt them as our warships. We went on to conquer many, driving the pitiful to extinction and the pathetic to banding together to stave off the inevitable."
"But it wasn't inevitable," Phineas spat. "not by a long shot."
"Your vision is too short sighted. What is time to us, beings centuries old? The Polymerization might have fallen this time, but it will return stronger than ever... because of you."
"What the fuck do you mean by that!?"
"Ah ah ah." The Hoof-Talon wagged a finger chidingly at Phineas. "Must I remind you of the rules already?"
His horn brightened, a bright circle appearing underneath the stallion's hooves. Phineas dashed to the side aided by his boosters, a plume of terrible green fire spiraling up split-seconds later. The scorching flames were uncanny. It was the chimera's power encapsulated inside of the arcane grenades!
The columns of fire sprouted up from all around Phineas. He took to the air, strafing and diving to dodge the grid of burning emerald, only to be caught once again in a telekinetic vice. "Think quickly!" the chimera boomed.
And Phineas did. His hover platform rifles deployed, the guns going off with their firecracker display. The hybrid bared his teeth, releasing Phineas in favor of manifesting a magical shield in front of him, the bolts deflecting into the floor, walls and ceiling.
"Block this!" Phineas called out as he rushed forward, busting through the shield and wailing on the chimera with renewed fury. "You fucking horrible, greedy, murderous piece of ever-loving shit!" he shouted with each swing and kick.
The chimera snarled, returning the sentiment. He slashed his claws through the air and lashed out with his neck, the agile pony winding in between his blows and striking with devastating precision. One misplaced lunge had the chimera's head rocketing toward Phineas and he was strafing to the side, the hybrid's eye caught in the exhaust of the booster.
The chimera bellowed in pain and outrage, throwing his burly arms up and knocking Phineas away. His neck stretched and contracted, winded in on itself and looped around with the advanced hybrid's throes of anguish. He fell into a half-crouch, knuckles bracing against the floor, head drooping. He was panting after his mournful scream had ended, but not for long.
"... Very well then," he rasped, looking up at where Phineas had landed, the pony standing in his combat stance, rifles aimed at the chimera, jetpack primed for action.
A large area at the side of the chimera's face had been turned from stark obsidian to a pasty reddish color, lopsided and deformed like clay allowed to melt but then cooled before it became nothing but a puddle. Barely visible in this was the striking blue eye, now milky white and all but consumed in the dead flesh.
Coupled with this visual, the chimera's chuckling that ensued was very disturbing to the silver stallion.
"Another answer for you, Federation pony." The hybrid stood up. "With every victory, the Polymerization grew stronger... but we were not content with what the lessers had to offer us. So we built our own ships with our own technologies... some of which were derived from the Old Equestria..."
Phineas bristled, but said nothing. He only braced himself for what the Hoof-Talon might throw at him next as punishment for taking out his eye.
"Our reach across the stars grew exponentially then... it was clear that we were a kind meant to dominate... though we were finite. It became apparent that we needed the lessers, if only to carry on our legacy of conquest! So we took them... experimented... reaped their greatest attributes like we did with their technology before and made them us, as we learned how to perfect the mixing of species..."
"As you killed and violated millions, you mean," Phineas deadpanned.
"They were fodder. They should have simply accepted their fates, perhaps they would have fared better."
"No, they wouldn't have. Now what does this have to do with me?"
The chimera's reply was a horrendous roar, a deep otherworldly howl with hints of all sorts of things which made Phineas' blood curdle. Green fire collected like spittle at the corners of the Hoof-Talon's maw, its claws splayed, tail thumping the floor, its toes boring into the floor plating.
"Aw FUCK!" Phineas opened fire while the chimera belched literal flames, washing everything in front of him away in a funnel of green heat. With the the fires blanketing the ground below him, the silver stallion kept firing his searing bolts of magic. Several shots landed and passed through the chimera to no visible effect until the magical barrier appeared again, repelling the shots.
"Brace yourself for the suffering, pony. There will be much of it in your future."
Phineas knew he was moments away from being caught in another mental net cast by the chimera and he had a gut feeling this one would be the worst. Due justice, an eye for an eye; or him getting a limb torn off, slowly while he was still fully conscious to feel each agonizing rip of flesh and break of bone. He retreated into his mind.
"Think! Think! Thin-... DUH!"
The hybrid's horn flared. Phineas pulled out his Magi-Flux Harmonizer in a quickdraw, generating a magical field. The chimera's own magic was entangled within this field, which shifted from simple telekinesis into observable energy, rolling and undulating where two beams met, one projected from the Harmonizer, the other from the chimera's horn.
"What is this!?"
"A good engineer always has his tools ready, bitch!" Phineas replied, though a bit too soon. The chimera's power was quickly overtaking the Harmonizer's own. As useful a tool it was, it just could not stand up to the raw power the chimera had at its disposal.
"Oh damn, damn, damn!" Another bright idea. With his other hoof, Phineas pulled out one of his remaining grenades and tossed it at the chimera's end of the magical ray. It entered the stream and reacted exceptionally violently, the pressure wave caused by the destabilizing forces sending Phineas into a wall again, thankfully one that was devoid of console screens. He slid down it and fell onto his haunches at its base.
The hybrid, however, was caught in an inferno which came over him in a torrent of green fire and electricity, overwhelming the already bright lights in the command room. The green and blistering heat remained for many moments before dying down, a huge blackened swath left where the chimera once stood.
And there he continued to stand, burned black by the fire, the membrane of his wings gone, the tuft of hair at the end of his tail gone, most of his armor vaporized. But yet, still the chimera remained, taking slow, deep breaths.
Again, he started to chuckle.
"And I almost saved myself, too..."
His voice was hoarse. His charred lips arced into a smile. "Time to answer your question, Federation pony. Is it ironic that the one you have been most adamant to answer is the one with the shortest answer?"
"How about a trade? I'll answer that when you get on with your own explanation."
"After I am done killing you, I will use your corpse to create my next generation of soldiers. Ones derived from the greatest warrior I have ever faced. Your progeny will carry your memory into the future! Those who admired your actions will rue the day their... false messiah, appeared!"
The chimera's eye narrowed at the floored pony and he hissed, "You should have died during the Great Ascension."
"My answer: go fuck yourself."
The chimera's magical aura burst into existence with a thundering boom. Inside it, he was a figure only of shadow, lifting off of the ground as arcs of energy shot out and exploded against the floor. The hull of the spaceship began to groan as the chimera's power manifested, getting stronger and stronger with each passing moment. His bare wings spread as a leonine roar erupted from deep within him...
"Regardless of what you say to me, pony, it changes little. You. Will. DIE."
When faced with such enormous power wielded by something which intended to bend the galaxy to its will, Phineas almost believed the chimera when it promised his demise. Almost. A single sliver of doubt which made its presence known at the back of his mind, which then traveled down his spine in a full-body shudder beneath his armor. Underneath the yellow screens of his helmet his eyes had widened, staring up at what the chimera had become. He had become the epicenter of fury, a star made out of green, baneful fire warped into the shape of a sphere many feet in diameter, bolts of lightning arcing around him in a terrifying display. The sheer heat the hybrid gave off was baking; as duly noted by the environmental sensors in Phineas' suit.
All the while, there was this rumbling in the room, as if the very air was vibrating to the point where it was causing the command room to quake, a low permeating growl that emanated from every square inch of the room. It was maddening, and discouraging to say the least about the escalating levels of the chimera's energies. What could a regular pony hopelessly displaced in time do to such a menace?
A lot, Phineas decided as he hardened himself, his look of shock turning to that of fierce determination that his helmet did well to mask. He sprung onto his hooves, defiant as always as he cemented his stance. The room's lights dimmed and burst in the raging storm that was the chimera, leaving only the tyrannical viridian light to cast the dark away. Phineas' shadow extended out behind him and crawled up the wall. It wavered and flickered with the dancing flames surrounding the chimera, enclosed in the aura of its power.
"Pony," he started to say with a disembodied voice that was like the rumbling, seeming to come from every direction at once. It had a deep and gravely quality that undermined any eloquence that the Hoof-Talon leader might have possessed. "do you understand, at the end, the pointlessness of your fighting?" The voice was that of a monster, a demon by any other name, a being with a soul as black as the scalded skin which clung to its accursed body.
Phineas remained silent. There was no retort, no clever quip to be made. The time for that had come and gone a long time ago. As he stared up at the advanced hybrid within its corroding ball of wrath, he thought of the Iopteryx, and how he felt bathed in the oppressive light it shined, like an ant under a magnifying glass. This was very much the same, facing a power many times his greater and practically drowning in a pool of unimaginable danger. But he did not bend, nor did he break. He held his ground with his resolve driving him on.
"No. What I do understand is: I must prevent you from rebuilding your foundations,and I intend to do just that."
***
The chimera's lunge came without warning. With many alarms and alerts appearing on his HUD, Phineas fired up his jetpack and sent himself across the room. He twisted about and came to a hover, looking at where the chimera was, half embedded in the floor. Spreading out from around the ball of deadly magic was a ring of glowing hot metal. Even after the chimera shot back into the air, the heat continued to march onwards, causing the metal to droop and drip away to lower decks as hissing slag.
Phineas deftly evaded the chimera's second charge with a well timed burst of his boosters, strafing out of the way and coming to a hover while the chimera simply burned through the wall, disappearing into the molten hole he left. The green glow disappeared from the inner hull momentarily, but the white spot that formed underneath Phineas a fraction of a second later was his only sign that the chimera was coming at him from beneath. A geyser of emerald fire gushed upwards with a shower of slag to boot and Phineas cried out as it rippled across his shielding. He tumbled out of the hellfire, clumsily adjusting his thrusters' attitudes as the fire gripped him, burning away at the magical barrier until it finally shattered into specks of light. He went down at speed because he couldn't slow himself down quickly enough and lost his balance on landing, metal hooves screeching as they scraped across the floor before he ended up rolling and sliding to a halt against the opposite wall. It was becoming a reoccurring event apparently.
To compare the rising temperature to an oven would be insulting. It was more like the magma chamber of a volcano by now and getting hotter still. Phineas knew he was not long more for this battle as it was on its current course. The fact it hadn't even been five minutes and he hadn't even touched the chimera since his grenade gambit was troubling at the very least. "How much more can this suit take...? he wondered, its homeostasis settings struggling to keep its wearer at safe levels. He had to get out of the not-so-figurative line of fire before the armor gave out on him!
But he also had to make sure the chimera would meet his end. Struggling back onto his hooves, Phineas went over what he knew so far: the chimera's desire to punish him had been replaced with a maddened lust for vengeance. No longer was he some prisoner to be made into the chimera's toy, but an enemy to be killed without discrimination of any means... excluding anything that would have resulted in his complete obliteration. As reviled as he was by the chimera, the Hoof-Talon needed his body for the next phase of his plan.
A plan that depended on the very spaceship that he was ripping apart in his anger...
Phineas smiled a smug smile. "I may not make it out of this alive, but at least I'd die happy knowing I fucked you over!"
And he knew just how to do it, too. The silver stallion found his second wind in the blistering heat and dashed over to the main flight computer, pressing buttons like mad. His hooves clattered against the keys noisily.
"What are you doing?" the chimera's omnipresent voice growled.
"Well if you can't beat them, deorbit the fucking spaceship and let it splat planetside!" Phineas shouted.
The growling deepened into a hellish howling. "NO!" The chimera burst forth from the slope leading down to the viewing platform consumed in a flaming twister that burned the ceiling. Phineas was thrown back for the umpteenth time by the line of explosions that ran up the diagonal to the controls, the instrumentation panel turning into smoking shrapnel.
"No flight computer, no problem..."
The pony flipped upright and proceeded to speed away from the chimera, panting heavily. The hybrid's ethereal roar made the room tremble with its terrifying might. Thin spidery lines spread across the main viewing screen, growing larger and branching out with each meandering crack. With a sudden gust of wind, the screen was expelled out into the vacuum, along with all the debris and bodies that littered the room. Phineas engaged the magnetic clamps and held steadfast against the singing airflow. Not even a minute later, the suction gave way to the eternal silence. While certainly not frigid, the room no longer felt like the middle of an incinerator. The blackened walls glimmered in the chimera's sickly radiance, the fires surrounding him waving slowly like a fabric suspended.
This fight was still far from over.
***
Phineas dove down the hole melted into the floor as green flames and electricity streamed overhead, a cascade of brilliant light shining down the hole before it faded with the fires' dissipation. His jetpack sent him through the room on the level below with great swiftness, but the chimera was hot on the stallion's tail, a blazing trail left in his wake. Phineas stopped at the door and spun around to face the chimera, who belched a torrent at him. The silver stallion raised his Harmonizer and projected a field, a dome of light blue magic materializing and corralling the fires into the center. Phineas pushed the inferno back, but the chimera powered through with a mental barrage, dispersing the flames and tearing the door from the wall.
When the flames cleared however, the hybrid found Phineas on the floor unharmed within a magical field and himself being subjected to another gust as the section ahead depressurized. The fires rose and released a tremendous flash as the Hoof-Talon bellowed, parting the wall of air around him and swiping his claws at Phineas, sending scythes of energy crashing against his bolstered barrier.
"If only you could make me teleport!" he thought, gripping his Harmonizer for dear life. He forced the field outwards - pushing the hybrid back a matter of inches at most- and shot off into the next room. The otherworldly screaming followed him, the chimera's energy causing clusters of sparks and fire to discharge from all around him.
"Spell-core... Spell-core...!" Phineas' thoughts raced, Magi-Flux Harmonizer held in one hoof while he juggled between reading his PDA's projection of the spaceship's layout and actually navigating its twists and turns. He blasted doors with his Harmonizer, overriding their locking mechanisms and subsequently depressurizing the zones ahead. After passing through, said zones were mauled by the chimera's rampant power.
The next hallway he had to clear was one that he thought seemed familiar when he saw it on the hologram. He found out why when -upon overriding the door- a whole squad of grenade victims were propelled at him. He dodged the corpses and hurried on while the chimera simply boomed and vaporized them as they neared, glowing dust flying past in the aftermath.
Phineas turned the corner of the T intersection and flew down to the maintenance entrance he discovered before he was captured. Without any debris to obstruct it and his Harmonizer at the ready, sliding the door open was no trouble at all. There was no respite for the true problem though, for as soon as Phineas darted into the tunnel, the walls started to crumple around him, the groaning accompanied by bangs and thuds and all manner of electrical sounds as wires snapped and tore behind the distorting panels.
The door on the other side of the tunnel flew open with a flash of light and Phineas threw himself out of it, landing on three hooves and skidding around to see the walls fuse together. He was breathing hard when he thought, "And that's why they had us running laps at the academy!"
A faint tremor running through the Spell-core chamber foretold what the chimera was doing next. The compressed walls started to pull apart, regaining their rough shape but retaining dents and large gaps in the plating. All manner of internal components hung out from these breaks, dangling limply in a long line.
"THE END AWAITS!"
The hybrid's roar was accompanied by a telekinetic shove, which Phineas countered by hunkering down and enabling his clamps. "Ha!" he yelled. "I fly when I want to fl-" With a yelp, Phineas' boosters flared to life and sent him out of the way of the flaming plume that funneled into the tunnel and exploded out into the chamber.
A spread of fire was left at the exit, dancing emeralds reaching for the ceiling of the Spell-core chamber, surrounding the chimera who stared Phineas down. The cauterized hybrid rose from his crouched stance, heaving bestially as he let out a guttural growl. No longer was he surrounded by his green aura, or the arcane fire which now raged elsewhere in the ship.
"You... you almost had me, pony." The chimera spoke in his "normal" voice, as cracked and hoarse as it was now.
"Almost?" Phineas replied, cocking his head.
"You have taken advantage of my anger... and as a result I nearly became the architect of my own failure..." The chimera started to chuckle again, his humor as unsettling as ever.
"It's not too late, you know. If you could do me a favor and burp on that Spell-core behind me, that'd be just dandy!" Phineas gestured to the orb of energy contained by the spinning pylons with his Harmonizer.
"It has become apparent that excessive force is not the way to deal with you, pony. Perhaps you are not as dim as I make you out to be."
"Y'think?" Phineas deadpanned.
"I understand now that you are no regular Equestrian, pony. You are but a specter of the past, brought to face me by the God," the chimera said with a strange sage-like tone.
"... Almost half right?" Phineas said, cocking his head in the other direction.
"You are my ultimate test, and I have learned that victory is not assured by power alone. Join me, and together we will claim rightful domination of this galaxy!"
Phineas floated out his hover platforms and opened fire. The chimera snarled, and held out a hand, collecting the bolts with a magical field of his own. The bolts orbited his fingers in the glowing aura enclosing his hand.
"I respect my God... I praise my God... but its... trial... wears my patience thin..." The magical bolts devolved into a mist and the chimera let them waft away in the room.
"Trust me, I want this to be done and over with as much as you do!" Phineas pointed the Harmonizer into his toolkit and pulled out his last grenade in a magic field. "If you won't do it-!" Phineas pointed the Harmonizer toward the Spell-core. Just like that, the chimera sprung into action, unhindered at all by the damage done to him.
He spun on a heel after dashing over to Phineas with but a few large strides, one clawed foot hurtling for his face. The pony ducked and rolled out from under it and the chimera spun again, this time its tail soaring at the silver stallion. Phineas hopped over it and activated his jetpack before twisting around in the air and bucking the chimera in the side of its torso, causing it to wheeze. The hybrid swatted Phineas a foot or so away with a backhand then struck like a viper with its long neck, jaws fully opened. Phineas got him with an uppercut with his free hoof however, and while the hybrid was dazed he grabbed the head and leveled the grenade with the chimera's mouth.
"Bite on this, you Hoof-Talon son of a b-!"
The chimera roared, expelling a puff of arcane fire then thrashed, throwing off Phineas' hold. It then stomped forward, claws swinging, threatening to cleave the silver stallion apart. He jetted away and opened fire with the rifles, bolts ripping through the hybrid's charred flesh pointblank.
The chimera's horn glowed and Phineas found himself locked in the chimera's mental grip once more, a wicked smile on his face. Startrot couldn't repel the magic with his Harmonizer!
"Oh, such valiance... but as I said, ultimately pointless. Do not worry, when the tale of this final battle is told to the reborn Polymerization I will be sure to make the legions proud to bear your essence within them!"
"It's... not... over yet!" Phineas snarled.
"How ironic. Isn't that what the Last said before you dispatched them?"
Phineas was fuming again. Tears welled up in his eyes, tears bitter from his anger. It couldn't end like this! He would have rather died against the last brigade of Hoof-Talon soldiers than at the claws of their leader, held at the wrong end of an ironic twist!
"You...you...!"
With all of his willpower, Phineas stopped projecting the field suppressing the grenade, which was then held by the hybrid's own. In the same moment he generated another, one which wrapped around himself and neutralized the chimera's telekinetic grip.
"What is thi-!?"
"You hybrid son of a bitch!" Phineas bellowed, jetting forwards and then swinging his entire body around, bashing both of his rear hooves into the chimera's head, a direct buck to his last eye. The Hoof-Talon howled, grasping at it with his hands. The grenade fell to the floor, tinking against the paneling. Its casing was ejected, and with mere seconds left before it detonated, Phineas rushed over to it, plucked it up in a suppressive field then launched it towards the Spell-core containment area.
"When Phineas Startrot says it's not over yet, it's not fucking over!" the pony shouted as he jetted down the maintenance hallway. Trailing him was the sound of the chimera's guttural brutality, its aura blinding as it exploded into existence again.
The Spell-core only added to this spectacular light show as it went critical, the entire ship shaken by its catastrophic failure. Before long at all, the entire ship would follow suit. It was time for Phineas Startrot to return to his shuttle...
The Spell-core was ruptured. All that energy forced into such a small space -all the energy required to travel across the galaxy- given free reign; a path to escape. The release should have bowled through restraints and bulkheads, decks upon decks should have been blown apart by such tremendous forces. For all intents and purposes, the destruction of the scientific vessel should have been minutes away.
But that wasn't the case.
Phineas realized this after rocketing out of the Spell-core chamber. The PDA's data readouts suggested that the Spell-core was stabilizing itself when, not even a minute ago, the powers that were wound into that neat glowing ball were spiraling out into chaos.
Phineas slowed to a hover. He was not much farther than a yard or so when he stopped and turned back to look at the nook in the wall where a soft green glow continued to reflect off of the damaged interior surfaces. He muttered, "There is no possible way..."
The chimera's bellow had gone silent after all but a few seconds, and Phineas was quite confused by that. Why had he fallen silent, and did it have anything to do with how the Spell-core was not an unstoppable, expanding cascade of fiery death? The first thing Phineas considered was the chimera somehow succeeding in impeding the blast with magic. He did say he almost saved himself from the boosted explosion when the arcane grenade was thrown into his mana beam... but how did he fail then against something that was but a tiny flash in the pan compared to the full scale of what powered a starship?
The stallion was pulled from his thoughts by the chimera's approach from down the hall. He was alive! He had stopped the explosion and was still alive to carry on the fight! Or so it seemed initially. Phineas' disbelief was replaced as he grew even more perplexed. The Hoof-Talon had no rhythm to their step. A few thuds against the metal floor at a time was what his "march" to combat was, defined by long periods of dead air that became silence all together by time all air on the level went away.
After several more minutes of waiting, Phineas saw dark claws emerge from the tunnel, scraping against the wall to the side of the entrance. The chimera stepped out with an obvious limp on his right side, but that was far from the end of his slew of injuries. Whereas before he was a ragged berserker with a few disfigurements -most notably the eye and charred skin- the chimera now looked like a true abomination, a misshapen play on what used to be a body.
His skin had began to melt right off of him and muscle began to peel away. The side of his bottom jaw, for instance, was pinkish with stringy strands of sinew clinging to the bone and flaps of flesh hanging loosely. A similar sight was to be seen on the creature's horn. His face was distorted further, its charred flesh was blistered with many lumps and folds forming around them. His eye was nestled amidst the folds, the cobalt color dulled by a transparent white film. It was as if the rest of the chimera's head was subjected to the exhaust of thrusters and cooled before it could melt completely, though the patches of completely missing flesh was something new to behold.
The rest of his body did not fare any better. The hybrid's arms, most notably his right one at that, were mostly muscle now, flesh burned away into a black sludge that dripped off of the tortured frame of the chimera. His legs were also affected in a similar way, except instead of the flesh simply melting off in the case of the right one, the limb had fused with itself around the joints. Thin membranes of black tissue spanned the distance between the femur and tibia and from there, simply hung toward the floor like fleshy tendrils.
The bare wings on the hybrid's back flattened against his shoulders and sides, looking more like a cancer that ballooned into ridges across his body than anything else. Skin peeled off of his torso in strips, a gaping hole over the chimera's gut revealing organs turned into crisps. Much of his tail was missing, leaving only the vertebrae extending past the flesh, held together by ligaments.
And yet still, the chimera lived. He lived, and his sole eye stared out from its lumpy features at the stallion floating in the air with complete silence between the two adversaries. There was no pain evident in his gaze. Despite his body twisted and broken beyond belief, only hatred was visible in his damaged gaze.
"How are you not dead...?"
The chimera's lips -what remained of them- slid upwards into a reptilian smirk, the hybrid's teeth bared, adding elements of a sneer. He assumed a more stout pose, hunched over, tail waving behind him. He still intended to fight. It was then Phineas thought he understood what happened.
"Let me guess... you almost saved yourself...?" he thought, putting his Harmonizer away and letting his jets cut out. He fell onto all fours in a low stance and stared the chimera in his eye. The two squared off in the hallway for yet another go, Phineas in his burnt armor and the chimera in his decayed body.
"Well, almost wasn't good enough. It's time to finish this, once and for all."
Phineas initiated, darting at the chimera with the tail blade screeching to life behind him, light rippling down its length. A puff of jet exhaust from his boosters sent him at the hybrid and Phineas spun around in the air, blade bearing down on his disfigured opponent. A low warbling became audible seconds later and Phineas felt resistance where the blade should have passed through unperturbed. The hybrid's hands were enveloped in a viridian light, a blinding whitish-golden glowing shining through his fingers. He caught the blade!
"Oh holy sh-!"
The Hoof-Talon leader transitioned into a spin, sending Phineas flying into the wall after one revolution. The impact was unforgiving and Phineas toppled to the floor in a daze. It was when the chimera attempted to stomp down on him did he catch himself; barely stopping it with his front hooves against the flat of the hybrid's foot and pushing back, making what sounded like a growl in his helmet from the strain.
Phineas threw the chimera back with an especially powerful shove and rolled out from the monster's shadow. Back on his hooves, Phineas jumped onto the chimera's charred back, much to his disapproval. The hybrid thrashed about and Phineas held on, using a hoof to beat and batter his foe relentlessly. It was only when the Hoof-Talon whipped his tail against Phineas' back that the pony's assault was interrupted; the pony reeling in pain and his grip breaking. In that same instant, the chimera reached around and grabbed one of Phineas' hind legs, pulling him off and holding him upside down.
Phineas kicked the chimera's wrist with his free leg and twisted upright once he was released with a burst of booster fire. He flew up to the chimera's face, swinging and kicking with reckless abandon, knocking the hybrid's head up then down and side to side. With one hateful blow, Phineas smashed one of the Hoof-Talon's fangs.
The chimera bellowed silently and wrapped his hands around Phineas' midsection. The stallion directed the brunt of his jets onto them, burning them even more than they already were and freeing himself once again. Evidently the chimera still felt pain and it was driving his rage soaring. Meanwhile, Phineas assumed a low combat stance in front of the hybrid.
The chimera dropped into a low stance of his own, a single palm on the ground in front of him before launching himself vertically. Phineas jumped as well but just before he collided with the Hoof-Talon leader, the hybrid's interlocked hands came down in a vicious overhead swing, knocking Phineas to the floor with astounding strength behind the blow.
Phineas was on his side when the chimera came down again. His back arched in response to one of the hybrid's clawed feet pressing down on him, stabbing through the armor and piercing flesh. Baring his teeth, Startrot brought out his guns and fired up at the chimera before it could inflict more serious wounds, the bolts of magic plunging into the chimera's chest and neck, taking off chunks of flesh on exit. A dark colored ichor started flowing out of the newer wounds and Phineas noted this was the first time the chimera actually bled during their confrontation.
The chimera stepped off of him, but the damage had been done and Phineas needed to get back to his ship. His life support systems were failing and his air supply was escaping through the breach in his suit. The silver pony didn't want to think about the blood he was losing, either. Phineas swiped the tail blade across the lower part chimera's crippled leg, cutting through it cleanly and toppling the monstrous creature. He writhed and undulated in a heap and Phineas rolled himself upright. His jets flared up again and he shot down the hallway like a bullet, then the access lift and the passage leading from the cargo hold. Over his PDA, he sent the shuttle a single command: ready the cockpit.
The crates were a blur on either side of him as he went, soaring down the aisle until he reached his waiting spaceship. The cockpit was already open and he flew in without a moment's delay. The screen came down and the rush of air filled the compartment. Phineas ripped his helmet off and let it thunk off of the shuttle floor as he pulled in deep, gasping breaths. "Celestia's flaming mane... that was close," he thought.
When he regained his breath and his silver coat stopped turning blue, Phineas turned his attention to the stinging in his side, just in front of his thigh. A nasty gash had been left there and crimson stained the outer edge of the puncture in his armor, adding more red to the scorched gray suit.
The pony edged over to the utility locker and leaned against it. "Can't go into stasis yet... not while he's still out there." Phineas put a hoof to the deep wound and pulled it away for inspection. Now his hoof was given a red coating, and he frowned. Bleeding out wasn't going to be a pleasant way to die. It was then the chimera's words from earlier finally clicked.
"As long as I still stand there will be two..." It was Phineas' turn to chuckle. "Son of a bitch was saying we're of a kind from the start... and the only way I'd beat him would get me killed too," he said before he winced at a particularly painful throb from the wound. "... I almost proved him wrong."
Phineas looked behind him, to the door leading to his quarters. He could save his life, go into stasis for however long it would take for its mending magic to repair his suit and heal his stab wound. Afterwards, he could hunt down the chimera and whatever the hybrid might have done in that time.
"He will learn from this... they always learn... that's what Tsubar told me... and he'll be more prepared next time..."
Phineas clenched his eyes shut. No, couldn't let the galaxy be at risk just because he wanted to save his own life. If in his last moments alive he could definitively kill the last of the Hoof-Talons, then he would do so.
He bared his teeth and pulled himself away from the locker, staggering a few steps but righting himself all the same shortly after. He approached his seat, intent on taking off and destroying the ship. Perhaps he could nudge the science vessel with his shuttle by powering his thrusters perpendicular to its orbit, lowering its altitude and bringing it on a collision course with the ground.
"It's as good a plan as any... if all else fails a missile at point blank range will end it for both of us."
As Phineas began to climb into his chair, he saw something at the corner of his vision. A flash of light... of green light.
"... You've... got to be... kidding me..." he rasped. Through the cockpit screen, he saw the chimera enclosed in a magical field, his aura thin and barely there, but there nonetheless. He floated down the hallway slowly, his legs dangling limply beneath him, one whole, the other a halved stump. Against all odds, against every punishment and torturous, crippling injury, the chimera pressed on. Startrot couldn't believe it; there was just no killing this thing!
Phineas leaned on his chair for support. He was done, exhausted. He gave the fight more than his all and the chimera was still not down for the count! He sucked in a deep breath and pulled himself up and into the seat, wincing at the pain in his side.
"You did good, Startrot. Damn... damn good. Maybe when they find your body in here, they'll build a monument for you... somewhere... out there..."
He inserted his legs into the neuro-link sleeves and armed his ship's weapons. The dual phaser cannons moved into position beneath the nose of the cockpit. It did not matter if the pony didn't have a clear shot. The blasts would go through the crates and finish the chimera and that would be the end of it-
Phineas felt the chamber shiver through the ship and averted his eyes from the view screen. Six arcane grenades had just gone off as one, releasing the hellfire and electricity directly into the chimera. Before he was taken by the fires for the last time, his body finally came apart, partially liquifying while it was still in the air.
"Heh..." Phineas choked out. "I should have... warned him about... that..."
"... Duh, Startrot. How could you forget your own damn trap!?"
***
"I can't die."
Phineas dragged himself across the floor. The door opened for him and he pulled himself forward once.
"Not because there's a fight I need to fight,"
He reached the pod and started to climb up it, his limbs shaking. He was starting to feel cold.
"but because there's a chance for me to live!"
He flipped the screen up and toppled into the bed, panting.
"So... I'll go to sleep... and I guess I'll find out which sleep it is after..."
He let out one last groan as the screen came down over him and the familiar lights came to take him to the whiteness.
In the Clutches of Talons We did not know what they were. We did not know the threat they posed. We paid dearly for our ignorance.
A diminutive creature scampered down the vast hallways with humungous arches of metal. The white lights above were harsh against the silvery, angular surfaces that surrounded it. Various machines and devices protruded from the walls, blinking and flashing.
The surroundings did nothing to help the immense uneasiness the creature felt. Its two skinny legs were trembling in the suit of armor it wore. Said suit was a muted yellow color, almost orange but not quite so. There were small spaces in between the metallic plates that encased its entire body where a rubbery, purple under-suit allowed free range of movement. The creature was a biped, but in spite of its humanoid stance, it looked anything but. Its midsection was incredibly slender and long relative to its shortness, as were its limbs. Its neck was of a medium length, allowing the head to sit a reasonable height above the rest of the body. The creature’s head was encased in a helmet that was elongated to accommodate a short, vaguely saurian snout.
Its trek across the ship’s great length was finally coming to an end. The bulwark that was the doorway to the bridge was in sight. It had a large sphere at the center of it that glowed with a blue light. The small creature stood before the sphere and many beams of light were cast upon it. The orb began to spin in the indentation it rested in and sure enough, the doorway hissed and started to pull apart. When the door opened, the small creature was bestowed with a view of the bridge of the ship; a huge holographic representation of the space just beyond the six feet of incredibly tough hull that completely surrounded the pilot. Currently, the chamber was engulfed in an absolute blackness. Despite this, the navigation machinery was visible: the semicircle of computers and projectors that the Captain sat before in a large ornate chair that completely hid them when viewed from behind, as was the case with the creature in its yellow-orange armor.
“C-Captain…” the small thing stammered nervously at the entrance to the holo-deck with a high pitched, feminine voice.
The large chair swung around. The one that sat in it was the opposite of the crewmember standing in the doorway. This creature was massive not just in comparison to the small specimen, but in comparison to many more burly beings out there among the stars. Its armor was bulky and angular, in contrast to the smooth plating of the visitor. Its limbs were sparingly covered, plating reserved for its elbows and knees. For the most part, the deep blue armor was concentrated on the being’s torso and waist. Its under-suit was a burgundy color. It too was vaguely humanoid in appearance and unlike the small one; it was not wearing a helmet. Its forehead was rounded, but the back of its head was elongated and swept downwards. Its face was flat, the skin a light blue-gray. Its eyes were huge and bulging and unnaturally dark.
“Tween’ara,” the Captain began to say with a powerful female voice befitting of her stature and position. “What is the matter?” she asked.
“I-I received a message of distress from the Magnamus not long ago that… the invaders were detected in the Thymal system… and that the ship has been met with severe aggression…” Tween’ara replied.
“Hmm,” the Captain hummed ponderingly. “Why did you not report this over the communication systems?” she asked.
The little alien practically jumped at the question, squeaking with her wracked nerves. “I’m so sorry!” she apologized promptly. “The news was so grave and- and...!”
The Captain raised a hand, her three fingers spread out and her palm facing Tween’ara. It was a gesture that called for the one being shown it to calm their self… in addition to ceasing whatever it was that made them anxious and unsettled in the first place.
The Captain sympathized with one of the newest additions to her crew. She was incredibly young and her kind was cursed with a uniform dwarfism compared to other species, such as the Captain herself. The fact she was orphaned and rendered aimless in life due to a raid launched by these very same invaders on her homeworld only added to this. She did not blame Tween’ara and had the news been less grave, the Captain would have found her needless journey from one end of the ship to the other amusing. But the news of the enigmatic enemies’ activity overshadowed her good humor. An allied ship was under attack as they spoke!
“Return to your station, Tween’ara,” the Captain said. “I will establish contact with the other ships in the Umpiron Fleet and take action.”
Tween’ara bowed her head to the Captain, arms behind her back, before quickly making her away from the bridge. Be it shame or embarrassment that was the cause, the Captain could not be bothered to discern.
She spun her chair around while the door closed; her back being to it by time the halves came together and sealed her in the chamber of blackness. She held a hand over the instrumentation panel and in an instant, the blackness exploded into much, much more. Windows and tablets made out of various colors of light surrounded the Captain. A star map was floating in front of her, giving her a top-down view of the entire galaxy, the spiral arms turning slowly. To her left and right, numerous holographic ships floated, representing the Umpiron ships that flew in tandem to her’s. They were huge, much larger than her, but even then they were models of the real things, scaled down many times and represented in scaled increments.
“Fellow Umpiron Captains,” she said. One by one, multicolored bordered windows appeared in front of the star map; which were then filled in by holographic busts of the many captains of varying races heading their vessels. “I hope by now the news of the Magnamus’ plight has been received by all of you?”
There were many voices of confirmation that blended into one. Though the report was known to them all, the other captains did not establish council among themselves. It was her job to bring them all as one, as leader of the Umpiron Fleet: the response to the mysterious warmongers disrupting the order of interstellar space.
“Then there are no objections to changing course to lend them aid.” Her tone lacked the inflection of a question.
“Honorable Leader,” one of the captains started to say. He wore a blue and white robe with a collar that bloomed outwards like a flower around his neck. His head was bulbous and chitinous in appearance with no eyes or mouth to be seen. “This new enemy… it has proven itself extremely vicious. From what we know currently, it can be inferred their cells move in large fleets, and these fleets occupy several star systems at once…”
“Your meaning?” The Umpiron Leader inquired.
“My meaning is this: the resources and sheer numbers this… legion has at its disposal does not match what would be expected from a young race that has only made itself known for a few years. We do not know anything about it despite our encounters with its forces.”
“I would have to concur,” another captain chimed in. “I have received reports from other fleets that the enemy is using spacecraft that emulates or even surpasses the quality the Yithith and Xiank construction. Such capability is astounding for such a short time frame.”
“They do not emulate anything,” another said. “I have come across intelligence which suggests these very same enemies are none other than the Hoof-Talons pirate scum that date back much further in galactic history; they have simply stolen the ships of other factions and converted them for their own nefarious uses.”
“A band of pirates does not become a force to rival a galactic empire,” yet another captain commented.
“Nor do they change so drastically that they are nigh unrecognizable.”
“Enough of this,” said the Umpiron Leader. She panned her sights across the projections of her fellow Captains and continued, “We cannot lose ourselves to bickering because of unconfirmed rumors and hearsay. This enemy is a mysterious one; that is for certain. But we will understand it in time, and it will fall under our focused offensive. The key, however, is maintaining that focus.”
There was silence from the council of Captains for a short moment before one of them said: “Our brothers upon the Magnamus suffer while we argue. This cannot be allowed.”
This was met with uniform agreement across the council. The Fleet Leader nodded, and then gave her order.
“Prepare for warp insertion to Thymal!”
***
The Spell-core hummed with surging energy. Four pylons surrounded the magical sphere, rotating around it horizontally in a tubular complex similar to a turbine. Strips of lights ran along the walls, pulses of white running down their length in increasing frequency as the pylons spun ever faster. A prismatic field began to appear around the powerful interstellar engine, concentric rings of all colors gradually appearing in between the pylons; which by then had become one blur surrounding the orb. Watching the process from the large screen at the observation station, the ship’s engineers ensured the warp parameters were nominal.
Over her communications, the Captain heard the report, “Spell-core ready for warp!”
At this moment, captains throughout the fleet were receiving this message. The multitude of ships was coasting through space in a wedge formation, the massive constructs of metal as grand as the undertaking their crew sought to accomplish. Some were nothing more than glorified boxes with huge engines on either side, bulky and functional. Some were sleek and slender, smooth curves defining their aesthetic. They all had colorful hulls, however. Bright, beautiful and valiant colors like red, blue, green, gold and much more; colors which were brilliant regardless of which sun shone upon them. They also bore their insignias proudly: the galaxy illustrated in black with all of its spiral arms and a thick circle enclosing it. A symbol of the Umpiron Fleet’s unity and dedication to defending the galaxy from malice, the insignia was emblazoned on the sides and forward sections of ships throughout the armada. Like the Umpiron, there were other dedicated fleets in the galaxy. They numbered few in terms of factions, but each faction was made out of dozens of spacecraft, each impressive in their own right.
“Engage!” the Captain ordered. Her ship’s engines expelled their exhaust in glowing streams at the tip of the wedge. It pulled ahead slightly before the other ships following initiated their burns in succession. They followed the vessel that diverged halfway down its length into two separate sections ten meters apart, and the length of those two sections comprised the rest of the ship’s size. It had no main view screen of which to speak of, or any other window for that matter. It was a continuous shell of silver and black hull, one of the sleeker varieties of ships the Umpiron collection had to offer.
When the preliminary burn was completed, the ships in the fleet had successfully adjusted their orientation and heading to match that of the Thymal system, a star located in one of the innermost arms of the galaxy.
“Umpiron Qualtraz initiating warp!” The Captain messaged. All at once, the others at the helm of their craft began reporting in. They used the name of the fleet before the name of their ship in their messages.
“Umpiron Unitrax initiating warp!”
“Umpiron Saginarus initiating warp!”
And so it went; ships announcing their readiness to jump while the Qualtraz was shooting off into the vastness with an explosion of energy and color that rippled outwards across the fabric of time and space from the epicenter. One by one the others joined the Fleet Leader until they were all hurtling through the interstellar stream to meet the galactic menace head on.
And one by one in the wake of the Qualtraz, the ships appeared at the edge of the Thymal system, the light created from their warp being brighter than the weak rays of light that came from the blue-white star millions upon millions of miles away. Engines burning hot, the Umpiron Fleet mobilized, breaking off from their formation and fanning out.
“Compiling event data.”
“System mapped. Six planets, two rocky bodies and four gas giants.”
“Densely packed asteroid belt at the inner system.”
The captain sat in her chair, studying the holographs that appeared before her. With a wave of a hand she sorted between them, taking in the information the other ships were gathering.
“Scans complete. Enemy presence confirmed. High level energy signatures concentrated at the inner system.”
The Captain was shown an overhead view of the Thymal system’s orbital plane. The orbits of the planets were represented by white rings that grew ever larger the farther out they were from the star. The planets themselves were circles colored by a gradient determined via proximity to the star, with the nearest being red. The first two were relatively small and separated from the remaining, larger four by a thick purple circle.
Clustered around one rocky planet –the second to be precise- were tiny but numerous red dots. There were so many so close together that they became blotches and blobs, a swarm of ships that surrounded this one planet.
“Where is the Umpiron Magnamus?” the Captain asked.
“The energy signature is weak, but we are still detecting it within the enemy presence… it would appear that the ship was driven to land on the surface…” one captain replied.
“If not shot down…” another said grimly.
The Captain’s expression hardened. She clenched her hands and replied, “Whatever the case may be, we will not leave this system until it is wiped clean of this taint which has befallen it!”
“For the Umpiron Magnamus!”
“For our fallen brothers and sisters!”
“For the galaxy at large!”
The Umpiron ships left the tortured skies of the gas giants to the exhaust of their thrusters. The first one they passed was a cream colored world with bands of light yellow clouds running across it, tossed around by the forces that be. The next was a deep green world with dark blue blemishes that flashed bright with unimaginably fierce lightning storms in the upper atmosphere. The second to last gas giant was red and white with hints of brown in its choking clouds. Gigantic vortexes were visible where the clouds swirled around each other. They were either monstrous tornados that extended down through the many layers of gas and pressure, or nightmarish hurricanes spanning miles in diameter. The innermost gas giant was similar in appearance, though the shades of brown were much more prominent. While lacking the extremes of the previous two planets, its roiling patterns were evident of enormously powerful winds. Furthermore, it was surrounded by immense rings of debris that extended the world’s reach several kilometers into space.
They flew over the great barrier of space rock that conspired to seal off the rocky worlds from the rest of the system. The great shadows of the fleet befell the asteroids before the glare of the engines lit them up again, chasing the shadows from the alcoves, cracks and craters. In the blink of an eye, the dozens of vessels were shapes in the distance, powering on. The light of the thrusters flared out behind them and had there been any observers to watch them go on their way, they would have certainly been blinded by the intensity of the Umpiron ships moving in tandem with one another, marching to battle.
***
Their adversaries were waiting, however. The swarm spread out around the planet, almost obscuring the surface from view. From a distance, the ships were one writhing mass of black and dark gray, with specks of light embedded in a metallic flesh. As the fleet grew closer and closer, the individual ships in the legion became easier to identify. There was nothing stylistic about them other than the red talons that served as their emblem. Plain, blocky and intimidating were the words that described these machines of war. Many of these ships were clearly built around the weapons they boasted, large artillery and energy projectors that had thrusters to move and aim with and a control unit to fire from. The Umpiron Fleet prepped its own array of weaponry as the ships awaited the coming conflict.
“On your mark, Leader,” the Captain heard over her comms. The legion opened fire just then, beginning their assault with a volley of missiles. The rockets advanced like a wall towards the Umpiron spacecraft, rapidly closing the distance.
The Captain eyed the holograms of the drill-headed projectiles coming straight at her evenly and unflinchingly. She issued her command: “Fire direct phase energy weapons!”
From her left and right, and even from above and below, the bright beams fired by neighboring ships flew into the path of the coming explosives. Huge swaths of them went off in dazzling displays of light, causing a chain reaction that spread throughout the volley until it was completely obliterated, leaving bubbles of hot gas to waft in the vacuum of space.
The legion’s next attack was an energy weapon barrage of their own; rays of various colors lashing out at the hulls of the Umpiron ships, the specialized laser mounted attackers unleashing an incredible burst of damage in seconds. Explosions went off where they made contact and sparks jumped from the scorched metal of vessels that were struck. The Qualtraz was shaken by one such hit, one that caused the holo-deck to flicker. “Damage report!” The Captain exclaimed. A few windows appeared around her, one being schematics of the ship with damaged areas tinted yellow and red depending on the severity of the damage. The Captain took in the information while listening to the words of an engineer: “They can hit hard, but we can hold out!”
“They are closing in!” one captain shouted in alarm. The Captain waved the report away and saw the horde of small ships rushing forth from the dark formation, the immediate area overtaken by tiny but innumerable bolts of plasma.
“How many fighter squadrons do they have!?” another asked in disbelief.
“I have a bad feeling that’s only one of them!”
“Out of how many!?”
“Keep calm! The odds are not in our favor but that does not mean defeat is absolute!” The Captain said sternly.
“They have made it too dangerous to fire any heavy ordnance. Establishing point defense zone with laser turrets,” a captain reported.
“Acknowledged; diverting power to laser turrets for point defense,” said another.
Soon enough, a grid of bright beams formed as several Umpiron ships fired in tandem into the mob of fighters, the crisscrossing rays making approach perilous for them. Many slammed into the figurative net the turrets created, fireballs appearing one after the other but regardless of how many they lost, the legion’s numbers remained ridiculously high. Seizing the respite from the storm of plasma fire though, the Captain issued her order.
“Use the heavy weaponry! Break open their formation!”
Missiles arced around the fleet craft, weaving through the ranks trailed by iridescent streams of light. For the moment, the possibility of a warhead being intercepted during launch and dealing a critical blow to a ship was very low. Cyan streaks exploded from the blunt-ended barrels of mounted guns, plasma mortars going off in the midst of the enemy. Bright flashes of light preceded the firing of railguns, the polarized slugs punching through the armored chassis of the enemy ships and rupturing the internal workings of many of them in spectacular fashion. Large spiraling beams of volatile energies were unleashed upon the legion, smaller ships scattering while the less agile ones were overcome by fissures in their hulls and finally exploding with tremendous fury.
By the end of it all, a sizable gap had been left in the wall of enemy spacecraft; burned out fragments of ships floated in the orbit of the blue-green planet below, smoking and simmering. There were cheers across the comm-lines at this strategic victory, and the Captain herself took some pride in how well things were going.
But pride, as they say, comes before the fall. Slamming into the Qualtraz from above, an incredibly powerful pinkish beam scored across its hull, energy crackling along the molten seam it left on the silver and black ship. The Captain groaned and looked to the source of the attack, her eyes widening in surprise.
***
“What is that thing!?” someone cried out.
“It’s a ship!?”
Looming down over the Umpiron assembly was a gargantuan beast of both flesh and machine. Large gun platforms were bound to its sides and limbs. The back of its head sported a tapered, plated crest that ended with a display of spikes. Its crimson eyes glinted as they peered upon the ships like a predator regarding prey. Its serpentine neck lunged for one of the boxy ships while the thrusters attached just behind its shoulders fired up, getting into striking range astonishingly quickly. Its jaws parted and metal teeth flashed when they were exposed to the light of the craft, and seconds later they were plunged into its hull. With a vicious thrash of its head, the cyborg monstrosity tore a chunk of metal out of the ship.
The Captain listened to the panicked orders administered by her colleagues. The others unleashed their arsenal upon it, but the saurian attacker opened its mouth again and let loose the Spell-core beam directly into the stricken ship. A series of rapid detonations went off inside it, puncturing several levels simultaneously and causing the craft to buckle sideways. The cries of the craft’s crew echoed over the Umpiron channel until moments later, when a terrible explosion sheared it in two, the halves spinning away from the pink beam, loose bits of debris flowing out from the destroyed ship.
Then the cyborg swung its head around, scoring the last of the beam along the line of ships that failed to defend their ally before firing a volley of the weapons mounted on its body. Missiles and beams punished the Umpiron ships, flames spilling from those that suffered the brunt of the assault.
“This is bad,” the Captain muttered to herself. She looked at the holograms worriedly, seeing that many of the ships near the Qualtraz were smoldering from the firepower the cyborg creature had at the ready.
“Everyone watch out! Scans show that their first line’s big guns are about to get back online!”
“Damn them! They build big cannons and strap them to a single ship, then create a swarm of fodder to compensate for the down time!”
The Captain’s mind raced as she contemplated what it was that she needed to do. The cyborg was a pressing threat, its guns bearing down on several of her forces at once. Yet at the same time, the blockade of conventional ships was poised to deliver their own devastating rounds.
As if to make a dire situation that much more grave, another one of the outlandish ships made their advance from the formation. This vessel was oddly shaped, broad at the front and narrowing slightly near the rear, the overlapping hull plating making it look vaguely like some kind of trilobite. It had six thrusters, three on each side at the ends of spidery mechanized tendrils that moved with a strange grace.
“Umpiron!” the Captain said at last to rally her fleet, putting an end to the uncertain chattering that was being transmitted over the comms. “Split focus: concentrate your light turrets on the cyborg and fire your heavy weapons into the lines as soon as possible!”
“That thing destroyed one of the most heavily armed ships we had in this fleet in just a few minutes! How can we hope to defeat it with anything short of focusing our main cannons!?” a panicked captain cried out over the comms. “I believe a tactical retreat is in order to assess the threat-!”
“Stand firm!” the Captain said admonishingly. “You turn your thrusters to the enemy and they will simply destroy your engines so that you cannot warp, then your ship will follow suit!” She paused for a moment to let her words sink in while glancing to the many holograms popping up around her to keep tabs on the enemy’s movement. “Fire at my command…”
***
The guns of the Umpiron titans swiveled and locked on to the crested horror.
“FIRE!”
The fleet created a deluge of plasma and laser fire that engulfed the monster. The blasts crashed against the cyborg’s metal plating and dark scale, burning deep into its body. The beast’s jaw opened as if it were issuing a silent bellow of rage and pain, thrashing its head from side to side.
“It’s time for the big booms!” a gruff voice announced over the comm-link. With a gravelly chuckle, the captain pulled its ship in front of the pack, causing many ships to withhold their fire until their line of attack was clear. It was a mammoth of a machine with an emphasis on roundness. No sharp corners, just a curvy outer hull that was a shiny blue color. Every inch of it was covered in plasma throwers fitted to spherical turrets that rotated freely in sockets. At its front was some kind of energy collecting structure: two curved pylons that together looked like an ant’s mandible.
It approached the cyborg; its forward guns unrelenting against the crested horror. The “mandible” structure parted, bolts of electricity jumping across the gap between the weapons. “You think you can just bite an Umpiron ship!? I will show you a bite!”
Alas, as the blue brawler got into strike range, the claws on the monster’s hands started to glow with a field of magical energy. The brawler’s mandibles were closing in on the creature’s neck when they were caught in the cyborg’s grip, the electricity dancing around its wrists.
In one deft motion, the saurian beast raised a leg and slammed its foot into the front of the ship while still holding on to the blades, caving it in with seemingly no effort. The claws on its foot then started to glow as well, which were then dragged downwards, shearing apart the bow of the vessel, which then erupted into blue and green fire when the energy stores powering the mandibles failed.
It tore the blades from their bases, blew the ship away with a volley of missiles and then threw the confiscated weapons toward a cluster of its foes, tumbling end over end and still live with electrifying power.
“We lost the Umpiron Tyrius!”
“Agh! My ship’s been stuck with its energy driver!”
“Mine was grazed by a driver!”
The Captain’s expression was affixed with burning, unyielding concentration. “Keep firing! It cannot resist our combined might for much longer!” the Captain shouted. Victory was at hand! She knew it!
As if in response, the crested horror raised an arm and pointed its glowing talon right at the Qualtraz. On the Captain’s holo-deck, the monster was pointing right at her, its red eyes beckoning her demise. The line of ships behind it, their aim locked and their weapons hot, opened fire. Flurries of superheated projectiles were sent hurtling across the great divide between factions, beams racing to hit their targets true and true.
“Return fire!” The Captain bellowed.
The Umpiron Fleet retaliated with their heavy weaponry and the exchange was chaos. Explosions rippled through the formations of both sides of the conflict, the flaming husks of ships sent fumbling about awkwardly, explosions still ripping apart their structures as they went. Laser passed laser in a thicket of deadly energy.
The assault only came to an end when the giant guns were spent, cooling down and recharging for the next offensive. In the aftermath, slag hung alongside battle scarred giants. The Umpiron Fleet had been shaved down a hefty number. The enemy clearly did not fare any better, as the clumps of burnt metal and broken ships collided with those that survived the torrent.
Yet still the legion remained strong. The horrendous cyborg: damaged and disfigured by the barrage of turrets but still functional; hung in front of the enemy lines like a hellish general with its glowing red eyes shining bright.
It issued another silent roar and with a burst of its jets, went soaring right toward the heart of the remaining Umpiron craft. Like a swarm of locusts that blot out the sun, the dark fighter ships followed, spanning out from the saurian’s left and right.
***
“Point defense procedures!” barked the Captain. “Focus-fire the cyborg-“
“Leader, please!” a desperate voice pleaded. It was not another captain, but Tween’ara over the Qualtraz’s communication system. “They have surprised us with this new unit of their’s and we are sorely unequipped to deal with it! We have to try to retreat now while we still have a chance of surviving this fight!”
“But we are so close!” the Captain replied earnestly.
“Even if you defeat the cyborg, we will still be unable to fight the rest of the ships holding that world to their whim! We have lost so much already but we haven’t even reached the surface to learn what has become of the Magnamus!”
The Captain sat back in her chair, unable to argue that point. It was true; the fight was an uphill one. So many good fighters now found their graves in the vacuum of space, struck down without pity and remorse from this terrible fiend that had set its sights on the galaxy.
The ship rocked as it was pummeled by the fighters making their passes, bombarding what was left of the fleet. The cyborg was undoubtedly tearing yet another ally apart with merciless efficiency. Tween’ara squealed and whimpered at the other end of the line.
As much as she wanted to stay and fight to avenge her fallen battle brothers and sisters, she knew that for the sake of reason she had to fall back now. If they fell back now, the Umpiron’s numbers could be replenished, their ships repaired and their weapons and tactics improved. The information gathered from this disastrous mission could be used to formulate effective attack strategies-
But those upon the Magnamus! Such a crushing defeat would only be worsened knowing that those that were meant to rescue them had to turn away. But it could not be helped. For the good of the fleet, they had to disengage.
“All ships! Prepare to- “ the Captain cried out in shock before she could give the order. An especially bad explosion tossed the ship about. Her cry of surprise was accompanied by several others. Her mouth gaped when she saw what was responsible.
Her holo-deck flickered like mad, the images distorting to the point she could only catch glimpses of the strange plated ship that showed itself earlier. Its hull had been punished in the firefight, but like the cyborg it remained resolute in the battle.
And that was because it was a cyborg. A horrid multi-headed demon infused with the technology of this barely understood menace. Five heads writhed and slithered from the front of the shell-craft, the long necks also protected by overlapping metal plates. The heads themselves were similar to the crested horror, except the snouts were shorter and a few of their metal teeth protruded from the top jaw when the mouth was closed. All ten eyes glared, purple wisps of light wafting out of them like a mist.
At the top of their heads, a strange kind of cannon was mounted. They ended in a sharp point. Coils wrapped around the front of the weapons like the treads on a drill. They created bright flashes of sallow, sickly greenish-yellow light and emanated electrical bolts of matching color.
The effects of being hit with the blasts seemed to be all manner of disruption to a ship’s systems, as evident by the holo-deck’s apparent failure.
The Captain tried to contact the other ships, but fleet communication was unresponsive. She tried to hail her own crew and even tried to call Tween’ara personally, but even those systems were knocked offline. She attempted to redirect her ship and make a break for escape, but she was forced far back into her seat by a tremendous tremor that shook the Qualtraz.
The saurian cyborg, compelled by some vindictive malice, dug its claws into the Qualtraz’s hull. It fired its thrusters at full power, taking the head of the Umpiron Fleet with it and leaving the other ships to the mercy –or lack thereof- of the legion in orbit.
The Captain watched from her crippled seat, the approach of the blue-green world. It grew closer, ever closer. The Qualtraz was taken past the defensive line of the black hulled ships; past the rings of debris lingering in their midst; past the upper reaches of the atmosphere, and soon later the denser region of air a few kilometers below. The ship’s hull started to heat up and peel away, but the crested horror continued to escort its fall from the heavens.
The two massive constructs screamed through the air, waves of heat radiating away from their descent, white streaks forming in the clouds. The land the two approached was hilly and densely packed with trees that reached high into the sky, the leaves being blown by the downward gale they created. Several miles away, the telltale signs of a crash landing were etched into the surface. A huge stretch of the forest was flattened and burning. The soil was dredged up, extending far into the trees. Debris was scattered all around the area, a spread zone that could have covered tens of acres of land.
Just a few miles away was the final resting place of the Magnamus, the stricken ship the Umpiron Fleet came to rescue. Soon, the Qualtraz would join it. The cyborg tore its claws from the ship, but not before pulling up sharply and straightening the craft’s flight profile. The Captain braced for impact, gripping her seat tightly as the canopy neared. The sound of the crash was terrible, groaning metal meeting the snapping of thick tree trunks and branches. Within the next few seconds, the ship smashed into the ground, uprooting a huge swath of the forest. The hull bent inwards with every impact, each tree dealing a crushing blow to the weakened six feet of solid hull plating that the Qualtraz was made out of.
***
Eventually the Captain woke up from unconsciousness, her head pounding. She tapped the gauntlet of her suit and a panel folded away. The screen underneath it, undamaged in spite of the less than stellar landing reported her vital signs. She wasn’t critically wounded. In fact, all things considered, she might as well have been in perfect condition. The cuts and scrapes and a few burns she had on her face was far better than being killed as the holo-deck fell apart. She tapped the gauntlet again and the screen was covered by the returning armor panel.
The Captain unstrapped herself from the seat and stood up somewhat shakily, surveying what became of the Qualtraz’s bridge. The photo-projectors were all destroyed, leaving only the cracked screens lining the walls, dull and gray. A few wires and cables hung from holes in the walls. Aside from the clearly deformed metal that created all manner of strange shapes from the inside, the hull was in good condition. At least it hadn’t been punctured.
She pressed a button at the base of her neck and her suit’s helmet started to assemble itself. With a few clicks and whirs, the Captain’s head was enclosed within a snug helmet. She saw through a circular visor at the front, the color of the strengthened glass as dark as her eyes.
She stamped down on a floor plate near her seat. With a hiss, the plate split and flipped up, revealing a compartment beneath. She reached down and pulled out what was resting inside. At first glance, it was a long shafted, white, black and red weapon that ended in a rectangular block of metal. With a twist of its grip, the yellow-orange energy blade materialized at the block in the shape of a large double-headed scythe. A twist in the opposite direction and the blades retracted, the energy coalescing at the end of the weapon. At this, the Captain held it at waist level, the glowing end pointed in front of her.
“Still works,” she commented to herself. With that, she turned and headed for the door to the chamber. Standing in front of it, she regarded the dim orb for a moment before firing a stream of golden energy from her staff weapon into it. It exploded into crystalline shards that showered down from the indentation and the door slid apart with a metallic screech.
***
She did not even get the chance to step outside before she was shot at. She threw herself into a roll off to the side and took cover behind the wall as soon as she saw the figures in black armor standing there in the dim hallway. Their scarlet shots screamed on past and splattered against the far wall as slag and sparks. What she saw of them for those few split-seconds told her one thing: the enemy was varied.
The armor the group of soldiers wore was clearly separated into types. There were the types that had pointed helmets and the others with more rounded ones that had ear fixtures on the sides of them. There were ones whose forelimbs ended in claws and those whose forelimbs were blunt. There were ones with large wings at their sides and others with smaller ones. There were some with thin tails that looked like wires when wrapped up in armor and the rest with their bulky tail sheaths. The only things that remained the same for both types was the dark red visor that stretched across their helmets, completely opaque and hiding their features; and the jet boosters affixed to their wing armor.
And it was the sound of those jets firing up that got the Captain prepared for what was to come. She activated the blade mode of the staff, the scythes manifesting their presence. With the timing of a seasoned warrior, she swung the blade out just as one of the black figures passed through the door, its own motion slicing it apart.
The Captain pulled the weapon back, rolled away from the wall and prepped her staff for firing mode. She did all this before the soldier’s chopped body even hit the floor of the bridge. The others poured in through the door and the Captain sprinted then threw herself behind her navigation computer. Molten metal and sparks flew from the semicircular array as the blasters mounted on the sides of the soldiers went off, the shots plowing straight through the large machine.
The Captain cursed, popped up from behind her cover, and fired a quick shot in return before breaking off into another run. Sure enough, the blaster fire converged on where she just was, a few narrowly passing her by as she bolted. She jumped and twisted in the air, firing another stream of energy at the enemy as she did before hitting the floor on her back and rolling out of the line of fire.
She sprung up into a crouch and fired burst after burst at the black figures. To her surprise, they broke formation and went airborne with their jets. They rained down their blaster fire on the Captain, who then slammed her staff into the bridge’s plating and pole vaulted into the air. She twisted around, bringing the staff off of the ground and activating its blades.
One of the soldiers had its head chopped off without a spray of blood. The Captain thudded back to the floor and the body tumbled away, the cut in the armor glowing brightly and the flesh underneath scorched black.
“You don’t take well to being cut, do you?” she thought with grim humor.
She quickly readied herself to react to a lunge from one of the alien warriors when, without warning save for a flash of light from the corner of her eye and a distant sound, it was floored. A smoking hole was in its side, the armor of the enemy glowing where the blaster shot hit.
The Captain looked to where the shot had come from. The tiny form of Tween’ara in her damaged armor was seen dashing to the bridge from down the hall, a shrill wail coming from the little fighter. In her hands was a blaster rifle, her finger holding down the trigger and sending speeding orbs of condensed plasma into the bridge.
“Die! Die, every single one of you!” she cried.
The black warriors scrambled out of the line of fire and the Captain charged, swinging her double scythes into the path of two of them. Their bodies fell apart from a diagonal cut, one piece going in one direction and the other piece in another.
Tween’ara stormed into the room, gunning down one more of the invaders, but just as she killed the enemy so quickly, another laid her out to bear with a single shot to the head. The red bolt passed through the front of her helmet and everything beyond in the blink of an eye. Her body tripped over itself mid-run and she toppled into a heap on the floor.
A furious roar came from the Captain as she beared down on Tween’ara’s murderer at speed. She deactivated the scythes in order to smash the block of metal into the soldier’s side, knocking it up into the air. She spun on her heels, extended them again and swung the staff up into the black warrior, slicing it in two as it was falling down. She stood over the slain soldier, roaring still with rising fury and bloodlust for what these horrendous monsters had done.
And just like that, one last shot was fired from behind her. Like Tween’ara, the Captain fell, a molten hole through her head. She thumped against the floor, the staff still clutched in one hand.
***
High above the planet, the black and gold behemoth hung like a celestial crown piece. The ornate golden beak at the front of the massive ship glinted in the world’s dawning hours with the rays of light rising over the curvature of the rocky, ocean covered orb.
Deep within its corridors and inner workings, a soon-to-be emperor sat at his throne, a large, impressive seat. Two orbs of green flames burned over his head, not contained in anything. They were two lamps of ethereal light, simply existing because of his will. The throne rested on a rise in the expansive chamber, a cylindrical structure that was small at the top and large at the base, like a rounded, flat-topped pyramid. His black armored legionaries sat in silence all around him at the bottom level, their eyes affixed to their screens and consoles.
His eyes, of course, were looking at a screen of his own creation. A plane of green fire that flickered and wavered at the edges was suspended in front of him, but in the middle he saw the brilliant destruction of the flagship of one of the new organized resistances mounted against his glorious ascension to greatness. The cybernetic dragon tore it apart, not bothering with the weapons it had mounted on its body. Indulging in its primal nature, it used its claws and jaws to do its work.
“All I had to do was capture one of them… and the rest brought themselves to their execution… the complete destruction of a band of usurpers…”
The image inside the fire shifted to that of the entire galaxy, twinkling with the light of individual stars.
“The first of many,” the chimera said lowly with a wicked glimmer in his blue eyes.
The scorched land still radiated heat and smoke from the cracked soil that stretched on and on for as far as the eye could see. The winds conspired to carry the dry air far and wide, to blister all they blew across. The embers burned a weak orange underneath the orange skies.
The land was flat. The land was dead. The land was a battleground for a war that had taken place in space. It was a conflict that bestowed blight upon the world, forsaking it for years to come. Vehicles that could barely be identified were half embedded in the ground; bare frames turned the darkest shade of ebony. Some were overturned, sheets of dinged and bent metal scattered. The sheer number of these ruined war machines made this wasteland a practical junkyard to boot.
The bodies of those once living accompanied the shells of their means of destruction. Shriveled corpses as broken and unidentifiable as the vehicles they once moved in; they were slumped over the crumpled consoles and sprawled out on the ground. They grasped their weapons that would never claim another life again steadfast even in death.
Death - of soldiers and of the world, an entire globe turned into a grave, floating in the expanse of space; a place in the vast cosmos devoted to the dead. Those whose sacrifices ruined the landscape they charged across; those whose enemies rested alongside them in the eternal slumber.
Towering high over the mounds of ships and land-based assault platforms like a foreboding castle, its back broken and its terrible maw held agape, was a Marauder class Hoof-Talon ship. What was a jewel of an empire unmatched now ruled over this necropolis, green energies creating a sickly fog around the black and gold vessel as they seeped out from various breaks and ruptures of the hull.
***
There was a black shape, tiny and high in the sky, lost amongst the rolling bands of cream colored clouds. That quickly changed, for its descent from heaven was fast and loud. It hurtled towards the dead land, roaring through the blisteringly hot atmosphere before gradually arching so that it was flying parallel to the ground at an extremely low altitude. It flew against the cemetery’s rising sun, the soil rising up into a black cloud in its wake.
The ship slowed gradually until it was hovering in front of the Marauder’s formerly golden beak. The dust cloud was dispersed by a sudden burst of thrust from the craft’s underside thrusters, bright sapphire exhaust belched forth from the three engines as it lowered to the ground. Six metal limbs stretched out from the sides, flipping out from spaces exposed by folding metal plates and extending in a telescopic manner until the pointed tips of the landing legs dug into the black desert.
The legs flexed underneath the ship’s weight, dipping down momentarily after landing before rising again. There, the joints locked in place. The ship itself was a dark purple that had hints of other colors depending on how the light of the sun hit it. It was elliptically shaped and had very little protrusions breaking the smooth curves of the hull. At the front and back were small crescent-shaped winglets that curved forwards. There were no windows.
A seam appeared down the middle of the cruiser-sized ship, equal distance from the forward and rear section of it. Puffs of vapor escaped from the gap and with a low mechanical drone, the two parts of the ship swung outwards, the inner plating of the walls rearranging to create ramps.
The passengers descended down the ramps in two rows. They wore a metallic yet flexible armor underneath what appeared to be ceremonial robes of varying color that were tattered and clearly ancient. The rows wrapped around the front of the ship and converged into one group a few yards past the pointed bow.
A single figure in a shimmering green and black robe walked ahead of the congregation. Its stance was a hunched one, and it walked with the assistance of a surprisingly ornate staff. It was a long chrome rod with the engraving of serpentine tendrils coiling around the top, creating a bulbous shape from which a reptilian snout emerged from the middle, the jaws spread and the teeth glinting in the early alien hours.
“They who came before fell out of favor with the Gods.” The creature’s voice was an eerie rasp that shouldn’t have been audible to the crowd, yet it reached their ears, snaking through the parched air. “Why is that?” it asked.
“Because they grew arrogant,” the crowd responded in perfect synchronous. “They believed they were selected to rule, instead of upholding the tenants of the Gods.”
“And what are those tenants?”
All at once, the monotone unity was broken. “Change!” many shouted together with glee. “Chaos,” another sect of the group announced with hard voices. Some exclaimed, “Power!” and they followed with rapturous rejoices.
The hunched figure, its back to the group, raised the staff over its head to silence them. “And what is the gravest sin to commit?”
The unity was restored, as if a hypnotic spell had gripped the congregation. They spoke: “To take the will of the Gods for granted. To be chosen is a blessing, but we are nothing but conduits for their might. We are nothing without them.”
The leading figure lowered the staff and stared into the viridian fog that the Marauder exuded. “There is no empire to rule,” it said to itself. Even though it did not address them, all listened to the slithering hiss that rode the scalding wind, the very same wind that ruffled the robes. “There is only strife to create; the glorious suffering that the Gods impose upon the universe, so that they can reap the spirits of the strong and grow stronger still!”
***
The creature pointed the metal maw of the staff into the green fumes and marched on. The congregation followed, walking into the sulfurous smoke that rolled out from the Marauder’s throat. All around them the inactive guns hung in disrepair.
They ventured down unlit cavernous hallways as if they lived inside the ship all their life. Unimpeded by the darkness and winding corridors, they walked. They did not falter nor did they speak. The silence inside the hallowed halls was absolute; not even yielding to what should have been the sounds of their footsteps on the metal floor. A God must have taken interest in the offering of their selves, completely and utterly for as long as they should live.
Time itself had become meaningless within the confines of the ship. When exactly the gigantic chamber became alight by the ethereal green flames coating the walls was irrelevant. How long it took to get there was trivial. All that mattered was that the group was standing before the black throne. All around them were the bodies of their predecessors, the rejected ones, dead at their posts.
They bowed before the empty throne, the lead figure holding the staff in front itself with both hands clasping the rod. The encounter with divinity was defined by unbelievable brevity. The bodies of the Hoof-Talons levitated from the places of their deaths. The black armor dissolved away, revealing the bodies wasting away; bare flesh with tufts of fur and feathers, blank predatory eyes within equine skulls and gnarled beaks where mouths were supposed to be, golden scaled talons at the ends of the front limbs and leonine claws on the hind ones. In an instant the bodies were glowing dust swirling around the group, and they all took off their robes.
“You chose them once in the past, and they failed. We come bearing their symbols, hoping you will fancy us as you did them,” the lead figure hissed. “But we will not betray you as they were so bold and so foolish to.”
As one, the group threw the robes up into the twister of emerald ash. The robes caught fire with a loud whoosh of air, and the flames spread through the ash. The beings at the center of the inferno were unharmed, however. The fires died down. Darkness returned to the stricken chamber.
***
The pact had been made. Change, chaos and power had to be upheld throughout the galaxy. The Star Terrors hungered for the strong.
“For so long we have searched for this relic… for so long we cursed those that pillaged these holy morgues for their laughable ends… but now it has finally happened. Rejoice, my brothers and sisters. The Gods have taken to us, and through us their terrible bliss shall spread once more!”
The shrill echoes of the cheering within the bowels of the Marauder resounded through the halls and ultimately across the barren wastes. The bodies laid out on the black soil writhed and shook, prying themselves from the dirt, begrudgingly heeding the call from beyond the great beyond.
Vehement foes joined together in death, their broken forms regenerating. The wrecks were exhumed from their violent final resting places. A new fleet was forming. A fleet comprised of those that did not yield to death itself.
There was a massive depression at the center of the huge room. It was a gigantic shaft that descended several levels through the white-blue metal structure. Extending from the walls were struts that connected to the enormous machine at the center of the shaft, a tube-shaped construction that was longer than the shaft itself, rising out of the depression a few feet. The silver plated machine had numerous vents puffing white mist out into the shaft and blinking lights lining its incredible bulk. Every couple of meters thick black cables spanned the gap between the machine and the surrounding wall of the chute, sagging and swaying slowly.
Surrounding the whole contraption was a railing to prevent any unfortunate accidents. Extra security came in the form of a passive forcefield that manifested whenever the need arose to repel anything bold enough to approach the construct. It was an impressive machine as grand in purpose as it was in design, for it was an instrumental tool in the battle to maintain peace in the galaxy.
The machine was a super advanced projector unit. The topside end was a dome-shaped lens from which a soothing blue light shone out of in a cone. Suspended over it was a gigantic representation of the spiral arms, the collection of billions of stars projected with pristine quality and definition. There were multiple territory markers of varying shapes and colors included with this projection of the galaxy, designating the many sectors of galactic space and the powers that governed them.
If this contraption existed during the age that came to an end not too long ago, its display would be a blood red hue, reflecting the concentration of enemy presences that infested huge stretches of space, innumerable star systems locked under the influence of the striving empire. Now, it was mostly blue, with differently colored bars enclosing regions with a high concentration of hive worlds, fringe worlds and the space claimed by the galaxy’s numerous races. There were sizable pockets of red interspersed in this spread, but they were well out of the white circle that encompassed a respectable chunk of the galaxy.
That circle marked the influence of the Harmony, or to the more technically inclined: the Galactic Peacekeeping Corp. Though still in its infancy, the Harmony had already succeeded in making major strides towards the preservation of goodwill across the stars. It protected newly formed interstellar republics from those seeking to take advantage of the defenseless. It created havens for war-torn districts to recover in. It served as an established community with the advancement of the galaxy as a whole being a primary goal.
It seemed like just the thing the galaxy needed after centuries of war. Except, there were many still that did not trust the Harmony.
They did not like the fact that a peacekeeping group had ships under its command that proved during the Hoof-Talon conflict to be horrendous perpetuators of death and destruction, as demonstrated by the huge debris fields still left in many systems where they exterminated the galactic menace without mercy.
They did not like the practice of using automated drones to bolster the Harmony’s presence in the galaxy, much less having those same drones constantly report information back to major hubs of the Corp. It was this practice that allowed the super projector to display such precise information; the drones under the Harmony’s command monitored the situation across the galaxy as a whole.
What upset a great deal of the galaxy’s people most of all was the apparent similarity between the Harmony and the Hoof-Talons, the way their ships occupied hundreds of star systems at a time, looming over the worlds they were charged with protecting; the fact that a number of their combat platforms were reverse engineered from the galaxy’s greatest enemy of recent history.
“The Harmony fights for peace at the cost of individual freedom! They are a step or two away from imposing a dictatorship, if not all out war!” many cried out in the streets of cities. The way their mere presence created dependence on their services across the newly created stellar states only worsened the divide, for while many would rather live without the watchful eye of the Harmony, they would only make themselves vulnerable to attack from the cells of hostility persisting elsewhere if they shunned the Corp.
***
The Galactic Situation Observatory was full of peoples that knew full well the galactic provinces wanted their Corp to disband. As such, the G.S.O was full of peoples who remained resolute in their activities against all adversity and opposition. There was simply no other alternative, after all. It would take a full on uprising to force the Harmony from its position, and there were few willing to stand against the unified galactic fleet.
Situated all around the projection were rows upon rows of monitors and computers, all of which being used by a wide assortment of alien creatures. Beings of all kinds of shapes and forms walked briskly across catwalks and platforms that formed an intricate web of metal over the super projector. While they wore all manner of clothing and armor, they all sported silver chains that dangled around their necks with a pendant, a blue tetrahedron that had an image of the galaxy viewed from above in rotation within.
Across huge sections of the chamber, scaffolds and cables decorated the walls in a display of organized chaos. There were bright balls of light where the builders carried out their construction, fastening giant sheets of metal into place. It was a massive undertaking, but the station’s final touches were being put in place. Its major functions were all operational and there were to be other G.S.Os built in strategic locations once held by the resistance forces. But for now, there was only one G.S.O nearing completion, serving as one of the leading headquarters for the Harmony in tandem with the other stations and strongholds from the past era.
Elsewhere, separated by several levels of thick metal bands and arches deep in the heart of the Harmony station, was a ship bay. While one of many, this particular starship hangar boasted a most peculiar development. Other ships were locked in their respective parking areas, held by locking clamps while gigantic mechanized arms tended to repairs and upgrades. This singular vessel was enclosed in what was a cage, for lack of a better term. Against the far wall of the ship bay, the strange craft was held vertically by platforms and clamps while numerous technicians stood on different levels of its height. In their hands were small holographic displays that they glanced to frequently, skimming the data on the pages of white lights.
This continued for several moments before one by one, the technicians pressed the sides of their helmets with a finger and voiced their affirmations, confirmations and permissions in standard procedure. They hastily vacated the platforms, descending down elevators that were on either side of the cage.
Numerous warning lights went off, some orange and spinning, others red and blinking. All of them told anyone nearby to leave the testing zone, and they complied swiftly. All across the bottom floor, workers scrambled to their positions, leaving a clear path from the storage cage.
“If it works this time, I want a drink,” said someone with a warbling quality to their voice inside the unusual spacecraft. He pressed a few buttons with one of the claws at the end of his mechanized limb.
“And if it’s another failure?” a feminine voice replied with a somewhat amused inflection. She shared the same oddity as the male.
“Then I still want a drink… or several. Will help with the work.”
“That habit of yours will kill you one day, you know.” There was a chuckle at the other end of the comm-link.
“Bah.” The rapid tapping of buttons on a few of the many consoles filled the small pilot quarters. “If it posed any threat to me, it’d have killed me ages ago. Besides, almost everything has been replaced with machinery. The only thing I can still do normally is drink.”
There was an electronic whine over the transmission, first a low growling which quickly shot up in pitch before abruptly cutting out, and then came the humming that emanated from all around the cockpit.
“Sounds like the activation test is just about to get under way,” the feminine voice said.
“It may not be too late to get me my booze before I have to set off, Uolix.”
“I’m sure things will go fine with your not-so-little toy, Tsubar.”
“Yeah, but I still want my drink, damn it. I mean I can’t get drunk so why the hell not-”
The previously drab and plain walls became vibrant with a prismatic display, shapes forming and distorting as if the Shu’badi was trapped inside a kaleidoscope. In seconds, the rainbow screen faded to a proper view of the ship bay, as if Tsubar were looking out of a normal view screen. The only difference was that he was had complete range of sight, from up and down to left and right without any obstruction.
“Good luck, Tsubar,” Uolix said, her tone now serious, perhaps even worriedly so.
Tsubar grunted and closed the comm-link. He typed in one more command on his terminals and four ports opened up with quick clicks and ratcheting. Inside the ports were the hardpoints where his Arcane-Manipulators were going to connect. He pulled the claws in so that their tips touched and then inserted the ends of his limbs into the port. There was a loud click when the connection was made, yellow rings around the ports lighting up.
With a whir, several displays appeared around the Shu’badi mechanic. The first of them were status reports which blinked out of existence just as quickly as they appeared. Others lingered for some time longer, and Tsubar sent them away by means of a simple thought.
“Pre-launch checks went off without a hitch… again,” Tsubar muttered. “Time for the hard part…”
An obnoxious sounding horn sounded off once when the cage disengaged. Slowly, the two halves of the storage structure moved apart and once they had locked in their new positions, there was a square shaft opened up beneath the experimental vessel. The clamps lowered the craft down into it, descending even further into the lower levels of the G.S.O.
***
A large panel on the exterior hull of the G.S.O popped up and slid across the surface. Strips of light lit up the interior of the shaft, blinking on and off at regular intervals every ten seconds or so. When the dark brown, black and red ship descended past them, the light they shined reflected off of its surface and glinted off of the golden view screen.
The ship was compact. The apparent cockpit was tucked at the “back” of the ship, or the top portion of it since it was held vertically before. There were four maneuver thrusters with their exhausts facing downwards instead of upwards, curiously enough. With their full range of rotation, it did not exactly matter which direction they started out facing as they could each be adjusted individually, but it did not explain the one thruster at the “nose” of the ship. A retro-thruster system for abrupt braking and deorbit maneuvers? Wouldn’t the four maneuver thrusters have been enough for such a purpose?
On either side were large mounted railgun cannons that were a fair fraction of the size of the entire vessel. Such weapons were powerful, sure, but slow to charge and ineffective against small, speedy enemies. Surely those were not the full extent of this ship’s offensive capability!
“Tzorvar Prime locks… are disengaging…” Tsubar murmured. Several puffs of vapor were expelled from the strange machine simultaneously. The cockpit rose up from the hull and swung upwards, revealing that the ship was no ship at all!
It was a gigantic robot being piloted by a single Shu’badi! The “head” of the mechanized unit was fixed to a segmented neck with red spines running down its length. The maneuver thrusters were held by segmented tendrils around the unit’s “chest”. The indentation where the cockpit was locked to morphed with rearranging parts. What had appeared when the process was complete was some kind of energy weapon, glowing with scarlet light.
Four red panels near the bottom of the unit disengaged from the hull and flipped upwards. Sliding out from the exposed compartments were four mechanized tendrils uncannily similar to the pilot’s own Arcane-Manipulators. Each tendril sported four red claws and the center of the graspers also gave off a red glow, telling of the wide range of applications they had with magical energy. They dangled with a captivating grace in the vacuum of space, floating amidst the clouds of red gas of the nebula the G.S.O was located in.
There was cheering over Tsubar’s communication devices. He lay back in the padded seat, allowing himself a moment of smug appreciation of his efforts. It was not easy decoding the secrets of Hoof-Talon technology. Automated drones were a fairly basic thing to do with such incredible potential… but making a pilotable mech using the principles of what allowed the hybrids to make spacefaring cyborg weapons platforms? That… that was far more impressive.
The charged clouds made it incredibly difficult for the Harmony’s latest asset to be located by those who may be looking for it with less than ideal intent, made it hard for their transmissions to be heard by those whose listening equipment constantly scoured space for their signatures and secrets.
For the Harmony was a force for peace that needed to stay on guard at all times; for the war for peace was a constant struggle, even when those who they protected resented them. The galaxy would be ready this time.
“How does it feel?” one of the technicians asked him.
The unit’s four limbs swung around as Tsubar turned his gaze down to look at them. He flexed the claws as he would normally… except this wasn’t normal at all! His limbs had been scaled up many times… they were enormous! This whole machine was enormous!
And still, it reacted to his thoughts flawlessly. His entire body was this unit’s brain, a link that had been established after so much trial and error. After so much disappointment, this one success made it all worthwhile.
“How do I feel?” Tsubar replied after a short moment to contemplate the question and his answer. “How do I feel?” he asked again. “I feel…”
He knew what he wanted to say, and yet at the same time had no idea what he wanted to say. Incredible, magnificent, powerful ecstatic, proud… all these words and so much more could not express just how brilliant he felt sitting at the helm of something that was one of its kind. His own mech unit!
“…Pleased. I am pleased with this result,” he said finally, letting the gigantic tentacles hang weightlessly around the mech. “After spending so much effort getting this thing to turn on properly, let’s see if we remembered to make sure the engines work, shall we?”
The ship bay crew started to laugh over the comm-line, but to Tsubar it was an actual concern. The Tzorvar Prime project was so ambitious that what were considered the basics of starship construction had to be scrutinized and treated with the same cautious anxiety that those who first discovered the secret to spaceflight approached it with.
“Beginning Hex-core tests,” Tsubar reported.
A few lines of light appeared ahead of him and they expanded into graphs and displays. Boxes filled with all sorts of complicated streams of data compiled beside them as the bars and lines in the graph windows rose and fell slightly. The reports showed low energy expenditure with the passive energy system and the fluctuation was negligible.
The mechanic took a deep breath and focused his thoughts. ”Hex-core Manifolds, engage!”
And just like that, the machine gave off a different vibe all together. Whereas before it was simply an extension of the Shu’badi, an amplified outlet of his will, now… it felt almost alive. Tsubar felt its energy and saw it reflected in the holographic charts, which spiked to tremendous levels in split-seconds.
Deep within the inner workings of the experimental unit, four bulky cylinders were sliding into a central block, the servos that moved them into place making an almost primeval sounding growl. Oblong ports lined up along their sides showed the immense power stored within them, shedding a crimson light as the electricity danced back and forth inside. Once the four cylinders were docked with the block, yellow rings lit up around the ports and began to spin. While slow at first, the rings soon became blurry, pulsating lights and from them, other lines of light began to spread across the machine, forming strange alien glyphs.
An otherworldly growl came from deep within the machine, the claws at the end of the tentacles coming together. The glow at the center of the limbs intensified, the Arcane-Manipulators shining with a concentrated white light. The body of the mech began to flex underneath its armored plating, bulging in some parts as if muscles were contracting.
”Oh no you don’t! There’s only one top machine ‘round these parts and it’s the one inside your head!” Tsubar was stiff, as if he were resisting an unrelenting weight bearing down on him. The growling sounded more like rumbling thunder inside the cockpit. He braced himself against this unbridled presence, thinking, ”So this is the cost that comes with this technology… I figured it’d be bad but by Ghu'arat…”
This struggle for control went on as inside the Hex-core containment unit, four pylons descended from glowing nodes above the central block. The slender extensions of black metal glowed similarly to the Hex-core, lined with arcane runes that glimmered. The pylons locked in place around the block and they too began their spin, the glow of the runes trailing each one until a wall of light was erected around the Hex-core.
”I’m the one in charge here, Tzorvar! And you better not FORGET IT!”
Little by little, the growling subsided. The stress Tsubar felt on his body alleviated at the same rate until he felt nothing but the power of the Hex-core flowing through him and back into the unit’s systems.
Tsubar was frozen in place for a moment or so before he commented smugly, “Glad to see we understand each other. I have a feeling we’ll be the best of friends, you and I.”
Sitting up, he announced to the crew inside the station: “Hex-core initialization successful. All systems nominal.”
There was more cheering to be heard in response and he tried to ride the wave of good tidings; it was quite difficult to do so, his head taken for a spin by the mental battle.
“That’s just the price of progress, Tsubar,” he told himself. “If Phineas was right about the Star Terrors then these units are our best hope in destroying them once and for all…”
He hummed thoughtfully before nodding. This was the right thing to do. The future of the galaxy depended on these next generation fighting machines. Machines with the power to slay what would otherwise be divinity.
“Beginning performance trials now; maneuver thrusters one through four online, main thruster online…”
***
A grotesque being sat upon the black throne, watching the hybrid peons march about on the deck below; a yellow mist rising from the many holes in their bodies, holes which spilled the sallow light of their glowing innards.
The creature watched them join up in small circles, holding each other’s clawed appendages. In the center of their groups were spheres of light surrounded by rings and runic symbols. Other minions standing outside of the circles had their claws on the inactive instrumentation panels, channeling the power drawn by the others into the ship, and around them the decaying technology of the Marauder was rejuvenated. Console lights flickered back on, screens that were black and broken started to shine again. Their eyes glowed the same yellowish-green, shining through broken visors that only covered part of their horrific faces. The light fell upon dull, flayed flesh and withered bone; upon black, scarred armor and weaponry.
“The winds of change blow hot,” the creature croaked matter of factly to seemingly no one. Its broad, toothy mouth did not open to speak.
“They wish to create a force to oppose the chaos.” This voice, deep and gravely and completely different from the first came from the very same creature. The light from the ceremonies being performed below rippled across its pale, scaly hide specked with yellow and blue.
“In doing so they embrace the power. Their souls will be most appeasing.” The light swam in the dead pools of black that were the creature’s many eyes, wrapping around its rounded head like polyps.
“Most appeasing indeed, after the great strife that tests them.” The long, gangly fingers numbering ten on one hand flexed, long nails tapping against the end of the throne’s arm rest.
The other hand gripped the chrome staff. The ornate maw at the top of the relic erupted green fire, from which the many eyes looked upon the galaxy. Though they knew not where they hid, they sensed their enemies that awaited their appearance.
“They will learn that no mortal can fight divinity.”
The creature’s clothing was nothing more than an eerie, smoky blackness that wrapped around its body, blowing in an invisible breeze. At the wispy edges of the oily shadows, tiny points of light shined like miniature stars.
Tzorvar Prime came around the G.S.O super structure with a burst of golden exhaust trailing its primary thruster. The four others swiveled on the mechanized tendrils so that they were angled against the mech’s direction of movement, firing small bursts until the giant robot was stationary relative to the space station.
Said station was even larger than the mech unit. It was an expansive sprawl of structures shaped in all kinds of ways made out of blue and white hull plates and decorated with various emblems and icons that used to represent individual ship fleets. Tubular walkways, girders and spires connected the various sections of the structure. Individual buildings were monolithic in scale more often than not. Windows were used sparingly on the G.S.O; they were structural weaknesses as well as a detriment to security. The hull space was put to better use housing defense turrets and scanners to detect threats in the scenario that an enemy evaded the Harmony’s border patrols and was mounting a direct attack on vital points where the Corp’s heads of command were.
But the station was not on the defensive in this case. The militarized sections of the station had their sights on the battle mech, training warheads sliding out from ammo caches onto the missile racks that turned and pitched following the machine. Another volley of missiles were sent off, leaving bright streaks of light as they all converged on the unit. Being analogs of speedy fighter craft, Tsubar got to hone his skills in keeping the pressure off of him when being swarmed. It was a common Hoof-Talon tactic that claimed many a life and space ship, but that would be a thing of the past with the Harmony’s training producing starship pilots as it was.
The incoming warheads were all marked by red holographic reticles that surrounded the sea pony pilot. As quick as a reflex, the metal limbs were held up in striking positions with the Manipulators’ claws spread apart. Almost just as fast they started to pelt the dummy ships with orbs of red magical energy, firing shot after shot and adjusting aim in seconds to track numerous targets at once. Tzorvar Prime showed itself capable of handling squadrons of small scale with the greatest of ease, the warheads dissolving harmlessly upon impact with the magical blasts and the blasts themselves dissipating shortly after.
As if to drive the point home, Tsubar had one of the tentacles lash out and grab one of the last few missiles just as it was closing in on Tzorvar Prime, enveloping the warhead in a magical field that suspended it in between the tendril’s metal claws. Arcs of electricity flowed in between the graspers like the energy flowing around a Spell-core and with a simple thought, Tsubar lined up the missile with another approaching warhead. The claws began to spin and for a few seconds, wisps of energy spiraled into the Arcane-Manipulator before being released as a jet of energy that skewered the two missiles, shearing them apart and turning them into glowing miasmas drifting in the nebula.
“Whoa, Tsubar!” one of the observing technicians chimed in over the Shu’badi’s communicator. “That Spell-core beam came a bit too close to the station! We may be throwing duds at you, but you’re using live rounds out there!”
“Sorry,” Tsubar apologized promptly. “It’s a bit too easy to get… caught up in all this. It’s like the unit wants to destroy everything around it!”
When he realized what he had said, he paused with a sense of dread in the pit of his being.
”It still has an influence? Even with the Hex-core Inhibitor system active…?”
“Just keep in mind that ‘everything around it’ includes the Observatory. Would be a waste if, in getting this unit working, we end up blasting through one of the monitoring centers or something!” said the technician.
Tsubar, still somewhat unnerved by the implications of what happened, replied, “Right… right. Prepare another round; I think I’ve gotten used to moving around in this thing and using its powers. The most pressing issue now is learning restraint.”
“Well at least you’ve gotten past letting them hit your shields. Gotta commend that!” the technician said, and once again Tsubar found the courage in himself to carry on.
”Of course it will be difficult… the unit is a prototype and this is the first outing I’ve had with it. In time I’ll be its absolute master, and it will obey everything I tell it to do without any hassle!"
***
The umbra sands took to the scorching winds, rising plumes of dust mixed with smoke that billowed above the tortured environment. Shambling workers drew upon the powers of the world’s internal furnace, circling the scrap heaps that were plentiful on the graveyard. They held out their extremities and let them ignite with the magical fire. It coalesced around the machines, making them glow hotly, melting down into puddles within the craters they made. The “vats” of hissing, roiling slag would then be molded into shape by the mental power of those among the undead ranks capable of such feats.
These crafters were exceptionally thin, even for walking corpses. More akin to skeletons than anything else, these fiends that defied the natural order of things shone brightly in the artificial twilight their work created. With a gesture, they raised the molten liquid and moved globs of it through the air. Then they shaped the glowing substance into what was needed, and the smelters robbed the slag of its immense heat.
The result: metal sheets and plates as strong as the day they were first fitted to a vessel; perhaps even stronger, by the grace of the occult method of creation. Through this process, what were just grave markers dotting the landscape in pockmark ditches had been reverted to their true nature: war machines. Completed vessels were arranged side by side with a few yards of space in between, husks being created with astonishing efficiency and speed.
And each husk was revived by the Hoof-Talon deathless, channeling their energies into the death-spreaders, or necroliers. Every few minutes, tens more of the stark black ships lit up, a jagged edged rune burning red on the hull before being blown away like an eroded emblem.
These defiled vehicles bore organic features. Cavities and crests uncomfortably similar to bone, thin strips of metal spanning gaps like sinew. Orifices made to look like skulls of different races imprinted on the metal, ridges running across the surface like exaggerated veins. Numerous vents that resembled open jaws filled with teeth of varying quality, from pointed and sharp to blunt and dull. A row of arching girders on either side of the necroliers invoked images of rib cages. Rugged spines jutted from the tops of the ships.
The green fires fluttered like a flag in a gale, the image of the galaxy within rippling and distorting erratically, as if some collection of energy had overtaken the atmosphere inside the great chamber. The corners of the pale creature’s maw curved upwards in some perversion of joy.
“Soon.”
***
The everlasting white faded so slowly to him. Everything that appeared as it disappeared was a sickening blur, shapes indiscernible and blending into one another. Colors were murder to behold. He sluggishly put his hooves over his eyes and started to rub them. When he pulled them away, Phineas beheld the familiar sight of the screen closed over him and the ceiling beyond, tinted a faint shade of blue.
“Welcome back from the dead, Startrot,” he muttered to himself hoarsely. “You’ve been gone from us only…”
He turned his head to look at the pod’s status display. He read the green text sprawled across the screen and groaned.
“… A couple of weeks. Balls.”
He knew he had taken a beating when he fought that damned hybrid. He was burned, electrocuted, knocked to and fro, strangled and stabbed. He even sustained some kind of magical damage, an experience that he would rather not go through again for the rest of his life, however long that would be at the rate he was going. He raised a hoof and pressed against the screen, lifting it up and then hauling himself out of it. He felt like a wooden board, as if he spent too much time asleep –disregarding his weeks long hiatus from living, that is- and stumbled around for a bit, bracing against the side wall at first before haphazardly making his way over to his cot opposite it.
“Ugh. Get it together, damn it…” he muttered to himself. He rubbed his face with a hoof before stopping abruptly. He tapped a cheek with the hoof a few times before murmuring, “Helmet. I left it in the cockpit. I left it on the floor… for a couple of weeks… ah balls.”
When his legs were feeling more like legs and less like chilled nutrient-gel made to look like legs, he approached the door to the cockpit. It slid open and right there, behind his seat was his helmet. Its inexpressive eyes were staring up at him.
“Oh, don’t you give me that look.”
Phineas walked up to it, picked it up and put it back on. When he looked up through the shuttle’s view screen, he found that the ruined science vessel the ship was docked in was in even worse condition than he remembered. The walls around it had been shredded, exposing the cargo area to space. In fact, the cargo area appeared to have been sheared away from the rest of the craft, which hung mangled over the small spacecraft. This left a fairly large space which he could have flown his shuttle through with very little impediment.
“Uh… what… the…”
His shadow crawled across the room behind him and climbed up the wall. Rising up from below, shining with its horrifying brilliance was the blue monstrosity from beyond the stars. Slowly it made its appearance and Phineas spotted only one of the gigantic tendrils whipping around behind it. He was completely frozen underneath its incomprehensible gaze until by some miraculous occurrence, he blinked.
And when he opened his eyes again those split-seconds later, the Iopteryx was gone. Phineas fell onto his haunches, panting.
The burning image of the galaxy faded away, tiny yellow embers jumping from the maw of the staff and fizzling out into tiny whips of smoke. The horrid creature on the black throne looked upon the deathless horde, the fleet of necroliers at the ready. They were arranged in front of the Marauder in rows and columns. The soldiers of the chaotic tide fell in line, one at a time in a rhythmic manner that spanned across their ranks. The sounds of their scarred and scratched boots echoed across the wasteland as they filed into their groups.
The deathless wielded their weapons, either holding them in hand or levitating them beside their selves. They were all morphed by reanimation. It was not uncommon to see rifles with parted teeth around the ends of their barrels and gem-like jewels embedded in them that were disturbingly akin to eyes, glowing with the occult energies. Some of them were equipped with terrifying jagged blades, swords that had recurved claws lining their killing edge, hilts that had tendrils worked into the grip like those that wrapped around the chrome staff.
Others had weapons infused into themselves, flesh and muscle bulging up around organic cannons that protruded from the armor they wore, fleshy weapons contracting and expanding like the beating of a heart or like breathing lungs. Spikes and claws lining their limbs were also frequent in the deathless horde.
They all were walking up the ramps into their ships- their spacefaring coffins. Moving corpses of all sizes: big, small, burly and bone thin. Their footsteps resounded across the blackened wastes, echoed underneath the black smoke of the hell forges. Thudding like drums of war to the melody of bloodshed.
The perverse grin slithered on to the pale face of the diabolical abomination. “The time of deliverance has come at long last,” it hissed quietly. The undead below reacted to the words spoken. Operators stood at attention before the terminals as they would have done while they were still living. Others tended to the orbs of energy floating around the chamber, channeled by the undead mages.
The necroliers activated, points of red and orange light appearing from every orifice, every eye and gaping maw glowing with fiery intensity. The dust around them began to shift and blow, compelled by some invisible force. The smoke above swirled like an angry cloud before being pulled apart, the orange skies above visible again after so long. The shattered veil let the light of the distant sun shine upon the force of the deathless tide, the will of the Star Terrors.
And in the light, the tendrils of shadow started to spread out from underneath each one of the necroliers. The inky spots peeled from the ground, forming ethereal wings, dots of white light appearing at their wispy fringes. The black horde lifted from the land as silently as a reaper, rising vertically into the air like wayward balloons, the smaller ones moving faster than the larder classes.
So much was their number that they blotted out the sun, casting the first shade to ever befall the desert graves.
The Marauder’s wings were huge and numerous, moving like black flames as it lifted off from the black sand, restored. Dust spilled from it as it rose into the air behind the horde, clumps of dirt breaking away from the beak. Faster and faster they went, going against the hot air. Their black hulls began to glow as they shot into the sky, burning arrows leaving the charred world behind. When they reached space, the necroliers fell into formation around the enormous flagship, their wings melding with one another.
The pale creature gripped its staff with both hands, the fire whirling itself into a vortex glimmering color and light. Directly ahead of the expansive fleet, space itself rippled and bent. Down the center of the disturbance a glowing seam appeared. Slowly the tear widened, the jagged fabric of reality stubborn to let go of its bonds.
But it flew apart regardless, a wide spiraling portal with energy spilling out from its edges, snaking and undulating from the nether. As they approached the portal, the necroliers distorted, stretching into the vortex before disappearing. Tens of ships disappeared by the second into the warp, with the Marauder accompanying the last of the bunch. With their passing, the rip in space-time was allowed to mend itself, coming together like a rapidly healing wound.
The creature waved the staff in front of it, creating a plane of fire that reformed into a star map, each point of light dyed a sickly tint of green and yellow. “Tell us, lords of infinity, where you would like your bidding done most urgently?” it said to no one, leaning forward to study the map intently.
“…Yes. It will be done,” it said after hearing the voices within the void. It sat back, the star map returning to a canvas of emerald fire burning in the staff’s ornate mouth.
Through the nether the deathless fleet moved, watched by glowing, pupil-less eyes that numbered in the millions. They might as well have been stars, wrapping around the tunnel the horde flew through, traversing parsecs of space in the condensed realm that no mortal mind was destined to understand.
The minions of the Gods went, and the Gods watched on, formless by choice but omnipresent, all encompassing. They were the first, and they would be the last. The eyes came together in front of the deathless ships, spiraling into one point until that point was torn asunder. The tunnel split apart, the eyes replaced with the twinkling lights of distant stars. The fleet coasted through space on its shadowy cloud, rolling in like a storm.
***
“Commander Uolix.”
The Shu’badi looked away from the screen displaying the prototype in action, thrusters firing and Arcane-Manipulators shooting beams and orbs of magical essence into warheads swerving into collision courses with it from all directions. She looked at a reptilian being with a blunt face and large bumpy scales on his cheeks.
“Cadet?” she asked.
“An outlying scout has detected strange energy signatures near the outer regions of the Thymal Republic,” the cadet reported.
Uolix cocked her head and turned her gaze to the super projector. The galactic map scaled down until it was just showing a small star cluster with a pulsating green circle designating where the anomaly was, on the outskirts of the territory.
“Properties of the readings?” Uolix said.
There was a myriad of tapping as console keys were being pressed, analysts all dissecting the information being streamed in from the probes. After a few seconds, the noise came to a sudden stop. Uolix looked around the arrays of computers and asked, “Well?”
“Energy signature is indicative of a… Star Terror, Commander. It’s another hit,” she heard someone from behind say.
She sighed and shook her head. Ever since the monitoring system became operational, readings hinting at Star Terror activity would occasionally appear. This seemed like another one of those occasions. Every time ships were dispatched to run damage control, the hit would just disappear into nothingness, with nothing to show of its presence at all. It was as if they were testing the systems, but to what end no one in the Harmony could discern, not even the leading analysts and technicians. It was part of the reason Tsubar rushed the fitting of Hex-core technology to a majority of the Harmony’s fleet. He wanted a force capable of taking down the mysterious creatures on standby, so there would never again be an event comparable to that of the fate of Earth. He wanted to be able to bring the war to the Star Terrors.
“One has never appeared so close to a sovereign province… is there any other data to be had to suggest any change between this occurrence and previous ones?”
“Negative, Commander,” she heard someone else say off to her right.
Uolix hummed thoughtfully, peering at the projector’s image intently. The encounter appeared mobile, closing in one a single star system. Was this another test? Would the anomaly simply vanish if she brought up the alarm and scrambled ships to the Thymal system?
“Continue to monitor the situation,” Uolix ordered. She looked back to her own display.
“Tsubar, recall the unit now,” she said after opening communications with the pilot.
“What’s happened?” he asked his concern about the urgency of the order clearly evident in his voice.
“We could be possibly facing a class one crisis,” Uolix replied. “A Star Terror may be on a course for the hive worlds in the Thymal Republic.” She could have sworn he heard Tsubar growl on the other side of the comm-link.
“Alright, I’m bringing Tzorvar Prime back in. If this is another one of their false alarms I swear… bastards are truly trying my patience!”
“We’re monitoring the situation from here on in-“ Uolix tried to say before she was interrupted.
“Well it’s about damn time we stopped monitoring their fuckery and started doing something about it!” Tsubar snapped. And just as quickly, he started to apologize.
“… I’m sorry. I don’t even know where that came from. I know... this is all we can do right now. Everyone’s trying to keep this together and make it work.”
“Tsubar, are you feeling alright? These episodes of yours getting more and more-“
“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” he replied before ending the transmission.
Aboard the G.S.O, the green circle expanded so that it wrapped around the star on display. It started to pulse red along with the rest of the Thymal region. The Star Terror signature was now within a solar system protected under the Harmony and it was showing no signs of stopping!
Uolix watched the scene, the claws on her Arcane-Manipulators clenched tightly together. The image portrayed by the hologram reflected off of her black visor, which hid her look of uncertainty yet bold resistance from those situated around her. “Raise the alarm!” she ordered. “Contact any other available division in the Thymal region and mobilize them to assist the outpost fleet!”
***
Forces were already on standby when the encounter first appeared. They were waiting for, or fearing, the call to arms. Now that the breach of space was confirmed, no longer could the Galactic Peace Corp sit idly by observing. If the Star Terror disappeared at the increased activity congregating around the system, then one of the most horrific incidents in recent galactic history would have been averted… or postponed. If not…
The environment aboard one of the defense forces’ ships was tense. The gray tiled halls were all vacant, its crew all at their posts. They sat before their terminals, be it at the bridge or in the engine sector, silently doing their jobs knowing the impossibility of what they might have to do if it was real this time. Though their bodies varied drastically across the races aboard, from the translucent, featureless skin of the Yithith to the vaguely avian bodies of the Kilo, there was this aura that they all gave off. The heavy feeling of fighting with no chance to win, the futility of opposing the inevitable, the realization that they were all going to die if they carried out their orders, it all created a morose atmosphere. Their silver chains dangled from their necks as they waited for zero hour; the only symbol of the Harmony’s unity among its peoples being rendered a mere trinket in the face of the coming threat.
The ship was one of a great many loaded up in the gigantic docking station. The outpost fleet was arranged in tiers inside what was essentially a massive metal box in geostationary orbit above the city-world below, the exterior of which wad coated in blue photo-voltaic panels. Heavy artillery, ballistics and specialized bombers of titanic proportions were connected to masts of metal and cables, with entire squadrons of fighters held in their own storage blocks either outside or inside their respective carriers. Such an impressive collection of ships was enough to dissuade most aggressors, but those that manned them were sure their combined power was no match for that of a Star Terror. Their engines and weaponry supposedly functioned using the more potent Hex-core technology, but what good would a new type of energy source do against a will that could eliminate entire planets on a whim?
***
“Thymal…” the creature rasped. Its many eyes looked upon the planet inside the flames. The perspective the abomination had of it was an impossible angle, as if it had an eye in orbit staring down with a magnified gaze. In the fire, the creature looked upon the maze of buildings that spread far and towered high across the dusty gray-brown surface of the world. “The stage upon which They Who Came Before achieved a decisive victory against their… detractors, propelling it into hallowed reverence for all the others...”
The fire grew white-hot and when it regained its green tinge, the image portrayed inside the flames was the star cluster. Thymal itself was in the center of the group, but the outlying stars were grouped with it when the territory was claimed in respect for the Umpiron Fleet, which met its doom there far back in the annals of the galactic war.
“How fitting that the Gods chose this to be the stage of their resurgence!” another voice from the creature proclaimed, booming in the great chamber of the Marauder. The voice extended far past the chamber, however. It reached every ship in the deathless tide, an echo through the silence of space. It may not have been the first to accomplish such a thing, but it was surely the only one left in its own time.
“Go forth! Do not disappoint our masters!”
A swarm of small and speedy necroliers exploded out of the black mist, their ethereal wings spreading out and reforming, running down the ships sidewise from front to back. The smoky wings wriggled down their lengths like the mantle of a cephalopod would through water, propelling the deathless through space toward their target.
***
One of the ship hangar’s walls started to split apart into segments. The sections started to rotate so that they were held horizontally on a metal guide that ran through the middle of the wall, and once they were in the proper orientation, the guide started to fold in on itself, making the wall collapse into what appeared to be one part at the bottom of the hangar’s threshold.
“If any of you try to charge up your warp drives and flee, I’ll be sure it’ll be my cannons that blow your engines apart!”
The gruff voice was broadcasted from the large red plated ship that sported white stripes. The ship boasting many large ballistic gun barrels and turrets disengaged from its docking port before all others. It started to pull out of the hangar slowly, the yellow guide lights running down its straight edged structure as it left. Its front end was shaped like a short cone with a rounded off point. Its bridge’s forward view screen wrapped around it in full, having angular ends at the sides. Below the squared off window on either side of the ship were golden decorative tusks that extended a fair length, the tips curving inwards slightly past the actual nose.
When the outpost flagship’s bulk cleared the station, the rest of the fleet started to move, engines lighting up one after the other and vapor released wherever the docking clamps were disengaged. The other ships fell into formation at the leader’s flanks, larger ships having the smaller class warships in the intermediate space in between them.
“I was told that there would be support joining us!”
The brown furred minotaur in a dapper looking blue suit with golden buttons, epaulettes and black gloves snorted, puffs of vapor shooting out from his nostrils. He slammed his large fists against the arm rests on his seat.
“They are late!”
“How can you be so lively at a time like this?” one of his bridge members asked, swiveling their seat around to face the captain.
“Because it will be a sad, sad day when the Celestia-damned bull loses his fighting spirit! It will be the day when these horns fall out of my head!” To accentuate the point, the minotaur bowed his head so that his wicked looking horns were pointed down at the crewmember and he pointed a finger at them.
“Now turn around and press those buttons! Report that our guest does not seem inclined on leaving us!”
The crewmember saluted dutifully and obeyed. The captain rolled his head from side to side as he sat back in his seat. His hazel eyes were fixed in a seemingly permanent glare as he stared out of the forward screen.
“Warp insertions detected, captain. They are transmitting Harmony identification,” said another crewmember.
“Such great timing! Remind me when this is all over to teach those captains a lesson about being fashionably late!”
***
Four other fleets entered the system from various directions and inclinations relative to the system’s orbital plane. Because of this, there were ships closer to the incoming enemies than others. The shock as to what they were facing spread over the communication systems.
“The Star Terror is a fleet!?”
“What kind of spacecraft are those things!?”
The voices clamored over each other until the captains all brought them back in line, the minotaur notably more aggressively so. “We can find out what they are after we’ve turned them all into space-scrap!” he shouted to the Harmony assembly. “Full speed ahead, prime weapons!”
The outpost fleet adjusted its heading to face the incoming assailants, the fighter crafts rushing ahead of the bulk of the offensive to meet the necroliers. In seconds hundreds of shots had been fired by the quick-shooting Hex-core guns, blue orbs of energy careening into the enemy ranks.
Rods of metal twisted into a corkscrew shape appeared at the front of the black ships. They swerved around the defending ships, matching their speed easily. The rods crackled with arcane fury, glowing with all kinds of colors as potent magics were called upon by the deathless. Bands of black lightning materialized around the speedy ships, which were then used to wrap up enemy fighters in choking coils. As the captured ships struggled to escape the grip of the necroliers, they were bombarded with an influx of energy. Spell reflux hit them hard, resulting in overloading systems that quickly led to catastrophic failure. The Harmony ships detonated into balls of magical fire, the tendrils trailing the flight of the necroliers as they sought out their next victims.
The larger variety of the deathless entered the battle, pummeled by the combined might of directed energy weaponry and hull-puncturing rounds that left silvery streaks of light in the wake of being fired and hit with devastating effect, blowing huge holes into the enemy and sending shards of metal into space in a shower of shrapnel. As the Harmony ships surrounded them, the many “horns” that extended out of their hulls glowed much more intensely. The crews of the ships found their selves caught in magical fields that overrided their controls, leaving them defenseless as their hulls started to cave in around them, gradually being crushed by immense force.
Arcane lightning lashed against the Harmony spacecraft and caused clusters of explosions to ensue, blackening the bright colors and causing fires to take hold. Broad beams of energy acted like blades, piercing the armor of ships and cutting right through, severing entire sections off or, in the worst of cases, causing ships to come apart to explosive effect.
***
Panic spread across the comms. The fighter pilots disengaged, flying evasively rather than to attack the black ships that chased them down like ravenous predators after prey, honing in on fear. Voices would be silenced in droves as ship after ship succumbed to the horrific magic the deathless employed in battle. Flaming husks and deformed shells frequented the space in the system, and the fleet that numbered well into the thousands was being torn apart without mercy.
“They don’t stop coming!” many cried out, taken by fearful awe at how ships with what would normally be fatal damage continued to give chase without fail. Streaming smoke and green fire, the hellish fiends pressed onwards.
“They fall so easily! So many souls sent to the Greater Ones!” the pale creature exclaimed with great amusement at the slaughter.
It watched the arcane fireballs sent hurtling into ships, exploding with such force that the stricken craft were attacked by latent energies that continued to afflict them until they finally gave in, the light of their screens dimming and their engines shutting down.
“Yes! Take them!” it roared. “They will aid our numbers! Soon all of the galaxy will crumble before the glory of the Gods!”
A sickly green aura was emanated from the Marauder as it powered on through the fields of death and destruction. The golden beak opened, energy collecting within as runic symbols started to appear. Rings of the symbols spun around the orb, and all of the disabled ships caught in the field started to glow.
Screams of agony echoed through their hallways as the crew were infected with the necrotic essence. Many were on the floor, convulsing as their flesh rotted away underneath their suits, a horrid glow beginning to shine from their core through their mouths and eyes, which were melting away in their sockets.
When the process was completed, those who were once with the living now bolstered the numbers of the deathless, completely corrupted. Even their ships bore resemblance to the coffin-craft, their hulls molded into grotesque shapes.
***
The light shed by the death of the Harmony ships reached the city below, the denizens watching with horrified expressions hidden underneath the helmets of their spacesuits. Without an atmosphere to distort the battle, they saw everything happen in pristine detail with their bare eyes. Evacuation orders had been made shortly after the battle began. Thousands of large transport vehicles and shuttles were being loaded up with people in the very streets of the super metropolis, which was flooded with movement and chaos.
The fervor of the inhabitants soared to new heights when the outpost was under siege. A band of the deathless horde came up alongside it and trapped the hangar with their magic. Flying down toward the city, they dragged the massive outpost with them before flying off.
Departing transports were blown out of the sky by magical rays and lightning strikes. Fire rained down from heaven, smashing into the buildings and spreading mayhem. When the outpost came down, a humungous cloud of smoke shot up into the sky filled with debris as hundreds of towers were crushed beneath it, the expanding wall of fire blowing through the streets and alleys, claiming untold numbers of lives in one fell swoop and rendering the impact zone a crater. The casualties only increased as more and more of the horde came to raze the city, showering the populace with their malefic blight.
Orbs of energy exploded violently in the streets, vaporizing the fleeing masses and tossing many more about. Accursed beams cut down the proud towers, their collapses alone causing huge bouts of destruction.The tusked ship came down from above, its tortured shell broken and flaming.
“Keep firing!” the minotaur captain roared. His bridge crew only numbered a few now. The others were slumped over in their chairs, terminals crackling and spewing sparks. The light in the command room was a dim red color. “We may die this day but we die fighting!”
As it descended, the warship’s few functioning turrets fired their rounds, some cleaving apart the undeads’ ships with extreme prejudice. Necroliers swarmed it, first ripping apart its weaponry with kinetic magics that pried the cannons right out of their housing and then suspending the vessel amongst them. Like a pack of wolves, they tore the warship apart, the hull buckling before being shredded, showering the desolated city below with even more rubble and death.
***
On the G.S.O, the operatives of the Harmony watched, aghast as the star became a blood red color and the region stopped pulsing red, becoming a uniform shade of crimson. The hive world was destroyed, the star completely occupied by the enemy force. The Harmony suffered its first crushing defeat by this new threat, and it was clear that it operated on total war. They did not want to conquer, but eradicate life in the galaxy. At this rate, Thymal would be theirs in mere hours, if not less.
“By Ghu’arat…” Uolix muttered to herself. “It’s happening again…”
“This is the Harmony battlecruiser Triterion reporting! There is nothing left! Our ranks have been broken. I repeat, our ranks- “
A beastly sounding roar preceded the immediate cease of the transmission, the frantic voice on the other end engulfed by the flames of destruction that marked the defeat of yet another ship and the loss of even more lives. Soon, the static subsided as well.
Stunned figures stared at the super projector, unable to move as if frozen in time. After all they had done to bring peace back to the galaxy, how could such a disaster be allowed to happen? Even Uolix was locked in place, unable to look away from the red star in the red sea.
What felt like an eternity later, one of the analysts looked over to her. “Commander…” it started to say with a trembling voice. “what do we do now?”
At this, Uolix shook her head and dropped her sights from the hologram. She rested her claws on the terminal as she pondered this horrific situation. What could she do? She mobilized thousands of ships into battle and they were all demolished by this new enemy. What could she do now that would result in anything ending differently? Her eyes were pained with bitter pangs and she wanted to cry, but for the sake of the others dared not shed a tear.
She had to stay strong, even with the prospect of death looming on the horizon. It was what Javic would have wanted. Gaali would have stayed levelheaded and logical. Romaz would have been feisty and proud up until the very end. How she missed them so, and how she wanted to live on in their memories.
“Commander… we need to do something…”
Murmuring began to resonate among those present in the situation room, chattering about what they were going to do, and how hopeless the future of the galaxy appeared.
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do!” Tsubar’s voice echoed through the observation center. Heads whipped around towards the source of the sudden announcement. They found the Shu’badi gripping the railing lining a platform high above the super projector. The door behind him closed, meaning he had been in the room for just a few seconds.
He flipped himself over the railing and spread his Arcane-Manipulators, floating down to the action center several stories below upon ripples of bright blue light. He hovered before the super projector with all eyes his captive; even Uolix found herself staring and wondering what Tsubar was planning.
“We rally the rest of our fleets and we go fight!” he shouted. “Nothing’s changed about this war except the way we fight it, but if we start despairing now then we’ve already lost. And we are the ones who survived the Hoof-Talons’ tyranny and not only that- we kicked their asses!”
“But so many have died already,“ one operative dared to say.
Tsubar whipped around to face the officer. If looks could truly kill, then it should have counted itself lucky the Shu’badi’s visor completely hid his expression. But before his passion could be unleashed upon the hapless operative, Uolix reigned him in.
“I understand you are angry, Tsubar. We all know how you feel about things like this, but we can’t base the matter of our survival on rage. Lives are at stake!”
“But lives are always at stake! Death does not stop conquerors from conquering! Death does not stop pirates from pillaging! Death does not stop war mongers from waging war! Death should not stop guardians from protecting what they cherish!”
“But blind sacrifice will get us nowhere!”
“There won’t be sacrifice! Before, I would have been just as daunted as you all are. But that was before our breakthroughs! We have the power to fight this new threat just as we fought the Hoof-Talons! We have the battle units!”
“Experimental battle units. Ghu’arat knows Tzorvar Prime gave us enough trouble without adding the mass produced units on top of it!” Uolix retorted.
“Tzorvar Prime is an isolated case and you know it! The units that came before are perfectly functional and powerful in their own right! Handling major crises is what they were designed for. To not use them now would be foolish and an insult to everyone who ever faced impossible odds but fought valiantly regardless!”
The murmuring increased in volume, rising and tone as debates grew heated amongst others, their voices taking on a hopeful nuance. Tsubar panned his sights across the platforms, spurred on by the reaction. With a calmer, quieter voice, he spoke directly to Uolix,
“We live in an age that our friends only dreamed of. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than what we had before. We need to hold on to it now more than ever or risk losing it forever.”
Uolix flexed her claws pensively. After a moment, she asked, “And you genuinely believe?”
Tsubar nodded. With a sigh, she turned to the Harmony collective. “Dispatch every asset we have! We stop their reign of terror before it begins!”
Tsubar hoisted a metal tentacle into the air, and the gesture was returned by all regardless of whether they had arms, tentacles, hands or hooves; the analysts at their terminals brimmed with zeal, the officers standing on the various levels of the room shouting their praises, even the construction workers who held their tools in the other showed their support.
Such was the power of this moment that they almost did not notice that the red star disappeared from the display, as well as a chunk of the rest of the Thymal region. Almost. The enemy was destroying the monitoring drones as well…
***
The triumph of hope elsewhere meant nothing to those on the besieged surface. Huddled inside dark crevices, crowds of people hid from the invaders. They had moved to another system after the first was subdued and made quick work of the defenders there. Now flaming wrecks were crashed in the bottom floors of buildings, the pavement cracked and jagged. Bodies littered the streets. Inside the buildings, refugees clung to fleeting life. Walls had been blown in, entire floors burning, the windows shattering and showering the ground with glass. Towers leaned into other towers, misshapen and broken. Smoke hung in the yellow sky, trailing up from the war-torn city.
The black coffin-craft flew over the streets while deathless soldiers marched down the ruined city, guns toted. Hysterical people were holding on to their beloved deceased in the piles of bodies laid out all throughout the metropolis, doubled over them and mourning. They were either torn apart by the yellow-green beams of energy that sliced them in twos, impaled on the nasty clawed blades some of the deathless carried or dissolved into glowing sludge by the blasts of deathless weaponry. The few that survived the initial siege without finding a shelter to hide in met similar fates. They all were frantically bolting around corner after corner, watching where they had come from only to find themselves faced to face with the deathless forces. Some were lucky enough to shamble off into the night, evading the light of the burning piles of rubble. Most however, fell before the onslaught of necrotic blasts.
Hovering over the hive world, the Marauder was a steel cloud. It stayed above the smoke, shining under the light of the planet’s blue moon and glowing with green energy. The pale creature watched the executions in the streets with a morbid satisfaction, approving the manner in which the tide culled the living and then subjected the corpses to the ritual of resurrection. Their souls were offering to the Gods, but the bodies… the bodies were the spoils for the deathless tide to reap.
A band of the soldiers headed down a deserted straight. The buildings on either side of the wide streets were dark save for the small flames licking their walls. The deathless warriors treaded over the twisted bodies beneath their heels, their boots kicking up the light dusting of ash that coated the area. Their glowing eyes peered into the shadows, hunting the irresistible essence that was life –strong, powerful life, steely spirits that needed to be delivered to the heavens.
Glaring eyes looked down at them from inside an alcove formed by collapsed walls and ceilings. A visor dropped shot down from the top of the helmet the person wore, the opaque orange screen covering what little else of their scarred face the helmet did not. The crouched figure raised a bulky looking rifle with glowing bulbs lining the barrel, the red energy within glimmering like the fires burning across the city.
“You thought just because you brought down the Triterion that you had us all?” he muttered. He flipped a few switches on the black gun and turned a few dials. He looked down the sights of the rifle, taking aim a short distance ahead of the group.
“Mistake. And as for mistake number two…”
The group of undead stopped walking without warning. The figure in the darkness saw their glowing eyes turned towards his direction. There was no doubt about it, they knew where he was. How, he did not know. What he did know was that his little ambush plan had to be tweaked a little.
As they hoisted their weapons up, he brought the end of the rifle over what he figured to be the center of the group and pulled the trigger. The barrel slid back into the main assembly like a cannon, belching fire. The explosive slug crashed into the ground right in the midst of the soldiers, a bubble of hot gas popping with a whooshing bellow. The soldiers became shadows for but an instant before being thrown about like ragdolls.
“Thank you, battle brother. Your weapon has served me well,” the Harmony soldier said, looking to the body encased in thick black armor plating. He rested the heavy ordnance rifle beside its original owner before leaping out of the alcove and into the flickering firelight.
He was a slender looking fighter, his dark red battle suit form fitting and complimenting his well-defined body. White armor plating covered his torso, upper arms and forearms, thighs and shins. The helmet he wore was also white, accommodating four short horns that protruded from the back of the soldier’s head.
Jet boosters on his back and the sides of his leg armor blared to life just before he hit the ground. He dropped onto the rubble strewn battlefield and rolled before breaking off into a sprint down the street. His sneak attack had incinerated a good portion of the undead squad, leaving mostly molten corpses scattered around the blast zone. Those that did not share the same fate were already back on their feet, unfazed. One with four arms, for example, was wielding four necrotic rifles and sending bolt after sickly colored bolt after him.
Without breaking stride he held his hands over his thighs. The compartments over them opened up and the grips of his pistols popped up into his hands. He then threw himself to the side, jumping a respectable distance into the air and twisting his body in such a way that he rolled through the air to face his attacker. His broad-headed guns fired their smaller caliber shells into the deathless, small explosions going off where they slammed into the undead’s armor and detonated. The undead staggered back from the concussive force and the agile soldier tucked into himself as he neared the ground again. After rolling sideways through the air, he kicked his legs out again and touched down, sliding across the dusty pavement firing rapid shots into the other deathless still standing, knocking them off kilter.
He charged towards them, closing in on one soldier that regained its footing shortly after a blow straight to the gut hit true. It raised its spiked rifle and the Harmony soldier fired both pistols into it, causing it to erupt into eroding green energy that ate away at the upper body of the deathless until its legs fell to the ground in a heap.
“You’re not even half the soldier you used to be!” the operative shouted as he vaulted over them, front flipping through the air and firing at another deathless as he was upside down. Three quick shots blew its neck, an elbow and a knee apart, causing the undead to drop where it stood. When he came back down, he holstered his pistols and kicked up a necrotic rifle into his waiting hands.
It was him versus the four-armed undead.
“You know, if you could shoot worth a damn, you wouldn’t need four guns!”
The monster let out a rasping growl before firing one rifle, the bolt soaring at the soldier, who dropped down into a roll. His boosters fired up thereafter and he was off the ground by time the second shot was fired at him. He returned fire at an angle, aiming for the lower set of arms on one side of the undead and succeeding in having the bolt of energy slice both arms on that side off.
When he came back down, he deftly arched his spine and leaned out of the way of two simultaneous blasts issued from the undead’s remaining guns. When he straightened, he fired a single shot into the center of the deathless, cutting it apart.
“Like I said, you don’t need four guns to get a simple job done.” The soldier held the rifle out in front of him to inspect it properly and then spat, “Disgusting weapon.” He tossed it aside as if it were trash, drew his pistols again and restocked their magazines.
When he was done, he returned them to their place and looked up into the darkened sky. “Come on… we need reinforcements. There are not much of us left and we can’t hold out much longer… ”
***
Phineas sat leaning forward against the straps in his seat. He rested a foreleg on his instrumentation panel, holding up his head as he fiddled around with his long range communicator, his PDA in the little improvised slot he made. His thoughts whirled around in his head like a vicious storm. What happened since he went into stasis? And what the hell was with the Iopteryx? What did it all mean for him? He was all alone with one doozy of a mystery and he thought the best way to get his bearings would be to get an idea of how things were at the moment. Last he remembered the Harmony was handling things quite nicely.
But before long he started to pick up the crackling signals. He sat up and listened to the broken transmissions that flickered in and out, words disjointed. He came across a disturbing number of these transmissions, distorted calls for help. They couldn’t have been sent out too long ago, Phineas figured, if he was just now receiving them.
He tapped in commands on his computers and brought up the holographic star map. Another bout of button pressing later and he had tracked the origin of the distress signals to a star cluster located in the inner region of a galactic arm. He was many systems away, but the pulsing segmented line that pointed to one star system showed that there was definitely something going on there. The issue with the Iopteryx and the things he missed while asleep could wait, he decided. There were beings out there in need of assistance!
"I can't die. Not because there's a fight I need to fight, but because there's a chance for me to live!" he remembered himself thinking before he put himself back in the pod.
“I’m starting to think that I only live to fight…”
He prepped the Spell-core for warp and took off, iridescent streaks of purple left by his engines as he shot out of the wreck of the scientific vessel, speeding through the blackness away from the planet the decimated ship orbited and into an expanding prism of light, jumping to the Thymal region.
Millions of miles away across the astronomical plane, the Federation shuttle shot out of slip space leaving a splash of color behind it. Its pilot expected himself to be the lone responder to the many calls for help he had heard.
He was wrong.
The aftermath of his interstellar jump hit the warp waves of other ships, giant shadows dotted with lights against the system’s sun. Colossal constructs loomed above and below him, their engines sending columns of light out into space behind them. Speedy spacecraft weaved their way through the mobilizing fleet and banked in the vacuum. Phineas heard their transmissions as they organized themselves.
“Revaront here, en route to secure orbital space,” one of the many captains at the helm of their ships said.
“Elison reporting in, en route to deal with the situation planetside,” another replied.
“Acknowledged, Cathziz and company heading planetside as well.”
And so on went the transmissions, innumerable ships closing in on the planet under siege, the yellow clouds shining even on the nightside of the planet. Its surface seemed almost molten. Lights would have been visible on the nightside of the planet arranged in neat lines and bright dots, but all around the hive world appeared jagged and flaming. Huge stretches of cityscape were obscured by the smoke in the atmosphere, rising from huge swaths of destruction.
Beneath his helmet, Phineas bared his teeth and glared. This was exactly what he was trying to prevent the Hoof-Talons from doing! What in the hell could have bypassed the Harmony’s defenses to wreak such havoc?
“This is Phineas Startrot, no affiliation,” the silver stallion broadcasted into the fray of transmissions being passed back and forth through the network of ships. “could someone please inform me of what is going on?”
“Hrulean to Phineas Startrot, get out of here. This is no place for civilian spacecraft.”
From the corner of his view screen, Phineas saw the advance of a larger ship beside his own. Its front portion was pointed and its structure was arched downwards slightly. In the small nook its shape created, the vessel’s dual engines were held up on struts, burning bright. Its hull was a pale blue and giant alien lettering was sprawled across its side. Resisting the urge to scoff, he replied: “I think you can tell by the four guns underneath this thing’s wings that it isn’t meant to be a civilian ship.”
“But it’s not a Harmony ship, meaning it’s a civilian ship; and civilian ships are not supposed to be in a warzone. So do yourself a favor and go return that scrapheap to the fringe world you got it from, I don’t think the Equestrians appreciate having their antiques being stolen.”
”You cheeky bastard. They always have something to say about the shuttle…” Phineas thought, shaking his head. It was times like now that he wished his reputation was a bit more widespread, just for some semblance of respect if nothing else. He retorted, “I assure you, no one but I will be flying any sort of ship like this one. If I’m not mistaken, I believe I’m more commonly known as ‘Federation pony’ among your circle”
There was a pause afterwards. Phineas was about to remind the person he was talking to that there wasn’t much time for them to talk, that there was a fight to be fought and he would find out for himself if they continued being unreasonable. However, before he could voice his thoughts the Hrulean responded, “The Federation pony? The Dragonslayer?”
”Dragonslayer,” Phineas mused. ”A bit dramatic… but it works.”
“I’d prefer Federation pony, if you don’t mind,” Phineas said out loud. “Anyone with a strong enough gun and the know-how to fire it could’ve killed a Draconix. I identify a lot more with the Federation than… anything else really.” He hummed thoughtfully, but then reminded himself of the pressing issue.
“What is the Harmony fighting right now?”
“To be honest?” the one at the Hrulean’s comms asked. “We don’t rightfully know ourselves. This new enemy appeared not too long ago and the ones keeping an eye on things thought they were a Star Terror at first. First response found that they were just a fleet of these… I can’t even describe them… they laid waste to the hive world one system over. Afterwards they moved on to this system, and have managed to crush the Harmony forces posted in its defense.”
Phineas heard the person on the other end sigh and issue a whispered curse. He sympathized. He knew all too well the pain, sadness and anger that losing one’s comrades brought. At the same time, the stallion’s mind grasped at the mention of a Star Terror. After seeing the Iopteryx again after so long and hearing about this disaster, he could not help connecting two and two. If there was a relation, then what was it? He feared he would never find out, as is the nature of the Star Terrors and the ambiguity of their intent.
“Now our intel suggests they’re setting up some occupation and resource gathering operation planetside, but for what we don’t know. We decided now would be the best time to intercept them, though. With all of them gathered around one planet we can converge and contain them, like we did during the Hoof-Talon purge.”
Phineas shifted his attention back to what he was being told. “Converge and contain…” he murmured distantly. He shook his head a bit more forcefully than before and said “Good plan.”
“Federation pony… Phineas Startrot was it?”
“Yeah?” Phineas replied.
“You’re a welcome part of the Harmony in my book.”
“Thanks,” Phineas said.
It truly felt good to be a part of something greater, to not be alone in pursuit of his goal. It brought back old feelings, of belonging somewhere. It was a welcome change after being lost and adrift after making good on his pledge to those fallen, and having to finish the last of the Hoof-Talons. Flying with the Harmony fleet, Phineas almost regained the intrepid feeling of standing with his fellows, unified in the Federation.
”Things can be different now, he thought. ”I won’t make the same mistakes again… after this is done I’m going to join them, officially! No more ‘no affiliation’ for Phineas Startrot!
***
Like shooting stars, the Harmony forces pierced the atmosphere. Flames licked across the hulls of the incoming forces, some especially powerful magical shielding materializing at the front of their respective ships, holding the fire at bay. They streaked down from the sky closing in on all hemispheres, north, south; east and west.
Their foes were waiting for them. Nestled in the ruins of the mega-city were the necroliers. Whether or not their black hulls glimmered in the daylight like insectile carapace or glimmered in the soft glow of the fires of the night did not matter. They shot into the air without hesitation, black wings serpentining at their sides and the horns glowing with necrotic powers.
“Everyone brace yourselves!”
Almost immediately the exchange was made, orbs of various kinds of energy screaming and wailing through the air. Beams of concentrated magic lanced into the masses. Necrotic lightning flashed in the sky. Miasmas of magical fields surrounded the deathless ships. The booming roars of cannons were heard all around the planet.
Phineas was thrust into his focused state of mind, reacting to everything as is without analyzing their meaning. As such, his reaction to the black ships was not that of horror and disgust. It was a simple realization that they were what he had to help destroy –what he had to help unmake. The Federation shuttle shot across leveled expanses of gray with its vertical stabilizer raised. The larger ships plowed through the air above, their proud guns sending forth blasts of both potent magics and heavy artillery. The smaller ones skimmed across the piles of rubble that the giant towers used to be, their support beams and various other components rising out of the destruction, smoldering and misshapen.
What surprised Phineas about this force was not how powerful each Harmony ship seemed to be. His scanners showed that they were all exuding a greater energy output than he had experienced previously, but he assumed that was due to some advancement in technology during his extended sleep. What surprised him, though, were the unconventional units he saw flying with him. Larger than most fighters but not rivaling the bigger weapons platforms were things that reminded Phineas of the Hoof-Talon cyborgs… except these things were not cybernetic. They were machines, through and through, their armor plating gleaming in the light of gunfire.
Their builds varied as much as the many races in the galaxy, screeching above the landscape on jets and magic itself. Some were bulky, others were lithe. Others were mobile arsenals, giant guns affixed to their shoulders, backs and arms. Others seemed underequipped until they conjured up blades of energy, or bombarded the deathless horde with explosive orbs.
In the heat of combat, Phineas could not ponder how they came to be. He was busy swerving in between the horrid attacks the necroliers launched. From the corners of his eyes he would see ships go alight before meeting violent ends in the air, turning into showers of shrapnel and fire. Each soul that joined those of the past fallen made Phineas’ blood boil.
The aperture at the front of his shuttle opened. From it, a single missile shot out, taking the lead ahead of the shuttle, spinning through the air on a jet of blue-white exhaust. It entered the midst of a few necroliers before going off, the explosion bright in the dead of night and illuminating the streets below. The ships, though damaged, did not react to the blast at all. They continued flying with the Harmony ships, matching them step for step.
But the machines! Phineas was shown their ferocity when a few of them charged the deathless fearlessly without care towards the necrotic magics directed at them or the fields of energy that were crippling ships left and right. Their metal limbs were held out when they were tackling the undead’s vessels. The mechs tore them apart, claws punching into the metal and rending the morbid effigies.
Many more became the victims of the guns of the mechs. They moved in ways the spaceships did not. They twisted about in flight while aiming their large caliber guns or spun about, scoring strikes with blades of energy and cutting their enemies apart, just as the enemy forces were slaughtering the Harmony’s. There was undoubtedly an organic feel to their movements, as Phineas noted. It was as if the many beings of the galaxy had been made into giants capable of fighting face to face with these ships.
But even as he flew evasively amidst the horde and watched the others defeat huge droves of the necroliers, something kept Startrot uneasy. The way they moved, the furor in which they assaulted the deathless ships, they were not acting in the name of justice and peace. He knew they weren’t because those same movements of power and ravenous pursuit were what he associated with the Draconixes.
“What the hell is wrong with them?” the stallion thought, looking past the flight data projected on the shuttle’s screen as the units that so gleefully engaged the enemy. ”Is this some sort of game? Some kind of sport…?
“Heads up, all. I just got confirmation that we have survivors on the ground,” a familiar sounding voice said over Phineas’ communicator.
“No way…” the pony muttered, his previous concerns overshadowed by the notion he was concocting in his head.
Emerging from the group of the giant ships above, the black, brown and red unit began putting a distance between it and the clutter of hulls hanging in the air. Its tentacles twisted about as if they each had a mind of its own, flinging orbs of scarlet magic that caused the black ships to dissolve away in mid-air.
“I’m going to need a division to serve as transports and another division to serve as escorts. We’re getting them offworld as soon as possible!” Tsubar said commandingly.
Phineas chuckled smugly. “The boozer mechanic is fighting at the frontlines, leading a whole battalion of spaceships… in a robot at that. How so much changes in such little time is beyond me…”
He wanted to join Tsubar, he really did. He wanted to share words with him again, to fly alongside him in pitch combat, to learn what he was sorely unknowledgeable of. He had the rumors, but Phineas wanted to know how Tsubar ended up being a part of the Harmony. He wanted to know how these new breed of ships were made, to understand the technology that made them a reality.
But with the wrecks of both allied and enemy ships tumbling out of the sky, peppering the ruins with fireballs of all colors, Phineas knew there were far more important matters that needed to be dealt with than catching up with a friend. The fact that Tsubar might as well have been his only friend only made his decision that much harder to make. Phineas looked away from the gargantuan mech the Shu’badi was piloting and instead banked the shuttle around to join the ships peeling away from the main assault.
Radio chatter over his communicator came from the ships that had volunteered, a myriad of voices saying things one after the other. Streamlined fighters surrounded bulkier gunships and dropships. Necroliers broke off from the main force occupying the majority of the defense fleet to intercept the rescue division.
“Keep them off of us!”
“Roger that,” Phineas muttered to himself.
He and several others had their ships arc into the air and come around at the approaching enemies upside down, firing their guns while rolling upright. The ships screeched past each other, the Harmony fighters soaring into the sky while the necroliers flew over the destruction, chasing after the designated transports.
Gunship turrets turned, locked on and fired volleys into the attackers’ formation. One good shot tossed a necrolier end over end and it toppled into the ship lagging off to the side of its aft. Both of them spiraled to the tortured streets waiting below, the smoky wings flailing and their hulls burning. Meanwhile, the multi-barreled guns fixed to the top portion of the dropships spun up. Each barrel flashed with light for an instance, throwing spiraling clusters of plasma at the pressing tide.
From above, the fighters rained down superheated hail and rounds. Flying out a fair distance and closing up the flanks, gun-mount mechs tightened the metaphorical noose. From all directions, there was no escape for the deathless craft. Their hulls were rife with glowing orange rings that had liquefied edges, sagging and shedding, until whole constructs came apart while still in flight, literally torn apart by the Harmony’s guns.
Congratulations and praise was distributed across the comm-lines upon the destruction of the first wave of adversaries.
“Don’t get too proud until we’re done here,” one pilot said admonishingly, and a somber acknowledgement befell the rescue division. The outcome of the mission would dictate whether or not there would be celebration. After all, only those that survived could celebrate their victory.
When they cleared the humungous hills of rubble, the rescue division started to put their ships on the ground. Dust blew across what remained of the city streets as the transports hovered over them, landing gear extending and touching down on the cracked pavement.
“Mission objective: clear out hostile presence and rescue the survivors.”
Soldiers clad in metal and padded armor offloaded from the dropships, rows of them spilling out from numerous doors and down ramps. At the rear of the gunships, ramps were lowered and speeding down them were soldiers in small hovering vehicles. Their drivers sat in a domed cockpit with pivoting engine nacelles at the front and back end of the vehicles. The vehicles were loaded up with utility kits that had tools to assist in excavation, such as Arcane-Manipulators to help remove obstructions.
The platoons of soldiers split up into their individual companies and spread out into the night, jogging down the warpath while the rescue vehicles jetted onwards to retrieve the civilians scattered about and trapped in the demolished buildings. The fighters circled overhead, watchful sentinels offering air support. The guns on the transports scanned the skies, swiveling about.
***
The armored crewmember of the former starship, Triterion, stood before the vessel. The wreck reflected against the visor of his helmet, a crumpled mess impaled by the bent beams of metal that were a part of the buildings it crushed when it fell from the sky. Its green hull had gashes, burns and gaping holes that still burned with necrotic fires. He was not alone outside of the wreck. Other survivors of the crash were with him, scattered about, confused, sad, and afraid. Many of them were not qualified fighters. Their role up to this point was doing their jobs to keep their ship in running condition. But now, there was nothing any of them could have done to get the Triterion back in flight. They were stranded in hostile territory.
He did his best to secure the area, taking advantage of the chokepoint the fallen buildings and rubble created around the ship. When it came down, the Triterion created a crater and surrounding buildings fell toward it, creating an impassible wall around most of the area, with one barely traversable straight being the best way to get in and out.
He and the initial group of officers handled well enough, using their jetpacks to get into ambush positions and fighting off the deathless soldiers that sought out the survivors of the crash, but each skirmish claimed yet more lives until he was all that was left. The most devastating losses came from an encounter with necrolier patrols, which were heading for the “camp” the others had set up. The group of officers had no choice but to divert the attention of the undead, and in doing so several of them perished.
So now the last officer was left with the group that sat around amidst the rubble; they had their faces buried in hands and laps, weeping softly or issuing silent prayers of their respective faiths for the dead. Some sat around flaming pieces of debris, unmoving, catatonic.
Traveling on the breeze were the sounds of warfare elsewhere, thundering cannons and vaguely musical blips and drones evident of energy weapons. “Sounds like the fighting’s picking up again,” he murmured to himself. He did his best to keep fighting, but now he was low on supplies. He was down to his last stores of ammo for his pistols and the undead soldiers kept coming. He decided to return to the camp when it was clear he couldn’t handle things by himself. He was convinced that the best thing to do was to die with the others when the deathless finally overtook the area.
He turned away from the ruined starship, and sure enough several tens of yards away, against the lazily rising smoke and fire, black shapes were rising over the craggy mounds, a sallow wisping light emanating from them.
“I guess you can’t truly stop the dead,” he said as he began to draw his pistols. “So I might as well fire until the guns go ‘click’!”
He took off into a sprint, taking several of his crewmates by surprise. He was gone before anyone could have voiced their shock, dropping down into the trench that cut across the road, various broken pipes visible along with the top of a damaged tunnel beneath the streets. He ran across the top of the tunnel and jumped up onto the other side of the ledge. He ducked down behind a short slab of concrete with metal bits poking out of it. He would hold the line as long as he could. He held his guns side by side in front of his chest while peeking up over his cover, waiting for the undead soldiers to make their way over.
They were marching towards the crash site when suddenly, the deathless stopped abruptly. The officer tensed. He watched them turn back towards where they came, and he knew they were detecting something. There were probably others nearby and the officer cursed silently; he wanted to warn them somehow, tell them to go away from the danger that awaited them just over the rubble.
Acting quickly, he popped up from his cover and fired a single roaring shot past the soldiers. The explosive shell dropped off some distance behind them, exploding just over the mound they climbed up. The deathless spun around, their harsh glowing gaze locked on where the shot had come from.
He hopped over the slab and started running sidelong relative to the group, emptying his pistols with haphazardly aimed shots before diving behind another pile of wreckage. He rolled and continued around the pile in a hasty crouch, hearing the low hum that wasn’t so far away. Necrotic blasts slammed into the rubble, punching through it without fail, several shots flying over where he was just standing.
He braced against the pile, reloaded his pistols and inhaled deeply. His last rounds were locked and loaded. “Until they go click.”
The officer rushed out. The approaching deathless stopped in their tracks and took aim immediately. The officer dashed ahead with his boosters as the undead fired their rifles; blowing out huge chunks out of the cover he passed by.
He came to a stop in the open, securing his footing on the pavement and swinging one gun around. He lined up the barrel with one undead’s head and fired, sending the explosive shell flying. He ducked down thereafter and fired another shot, rolled, and continued onwards from there. He moved about unpredictably after firing his guns until they had nothing else to fire. Three of the undead were definitively unable to carry on fighting, blown to pieces. The others in the group either managed to evade his shots or just had thick enough armor and bulk to shrug off the rounds when they hit.
“Click.” He waited to be hit by the green blast, his reward for fighting until he had nothing else to fight with. He saw the deathless raise their rifles, and it was at that moment where he thought death was imminent did he notice just what these soldiers were. So twisted were they by whatever malefic entity possessed them that the officer did not recognize these enemies were no other than the Harmony’s own: those who died ensuring the time of the Hoof-Talons’ end.
“… Damn,” he said to himself.
And that was when the first yellow streak flew overhead, flying with a whistle and exploding with a tremendous bang. The officer, dumbstruck, spun on his heels to see where the attack had come from. Standing there on the mound were a band of soldiers, an especially large one crouched down with a heavy ordnance cannon mounted on its shoulder. The spent energy rod was ejected from the side of the weapon, the glass tube still glowing with latent power. Another yellow rod was loaded into the chamber of the cannon and the energy erupted from the end of the barrel, obliterating the rest of the undead.
With the deathless dispatched, one of the soldiers called out, “You the only one around these parts?”
The officer was silent, not believing what had happened, in spite of the loud booming of the two shots and the flaming body parts that were strewn about by the blasts. He looked back to the large, smoldering pockmarks left in the pavement and when it finally sunk in that these were the reinforcements he was waiting for, he fell to his knees.
“… Amazing,” he said to himself. The soldiers were scrambling down the mound and a few of the other crewmembers on the other side of the ravine were watching the rescue team advance.
***
A little more than an hour later, the things at the transport ships were looking optimistic. A great number of survivors had been loaded onto them already and more of the huddled masses were being led up the ramps, or if they were unable to walk due to extensive injury; they were taken aboard via stretchers connected to the back of the hover pods. The squadron of fighters buzzed through the skies above, chasing necroliers away from the gunships and dropships while the horizon burned, ignited by the opposing powers.
Tzorvar Prime, accompanied by a few other mechs, plunged down from above an undead warship, tentacles splayed. Its thrusters blared to life at the last minute, all four burning at full strength while the tendrils whipped around, wrapping the warship up in their metal coils. Tsubar aimed the two railguns down into its superstructure and fired, the pointblank polarized rounds splitting the ship in two. As the hull buckled, slag erupted from the two fatal shots. Tzorvar Prime released its stricken quarry and finished it off with four Spell-core blasts from the Arcane-Manipulators.
For the past hour, this was the tone of the battle: a staggering comeback from the Harmony forces, forces with a technological edge in addition to a moral cause. Seeing the death and destruction caused by these fiends had brought out the ire of the galaxy’s defenders, and it showed in their assault. Or so it seemed, with how primal an approach the mech pilots took to fighting.
Surrounded by destruction in the air, the Marauder hovered, inactive. Even as ships turned into balls of fire and smoke that hung in the air, it did not offer support. In spite of this, whenever a force switched focus to attack it directly, the necroliers swarmed to intervene, as if ceremoniously sacrificing themselves to protect the giant ornate craft.
The pale creature on the black throne hadn’t moved at all in this time, its dead black eyes staring into the fires, unblinking. It appeared statuesque until its mouth turned into another perverse grin.
“Enough of them have been claimed by the power… they belong to Them now…”
Without warning, the cloud of energy surrounding the Marauder grew more intense, a manifestation of power so great it turned the green field white. The Marauder was enveloped in this magical field that completely obscured it.
“What in the world-?“ was all Tsubar had time to say after turning Tzorvar Prime’s head around to look at the disturbance.
Beams of light shot out from where the Marauder was, striking nearby necroliers and branching out, forming an intricate web between them. From the deathless ships, the energy shot out into a Harmony ship, which resulted in more spreading of the energy, spanning enormous gaps in the formation. In seconds most of the Harmony assault force was caught in the web without any means of escape.
And Tsubar found out all too late what was occurring. He knew because the instant Tzorvar Prime was struck, he felt the restrained presence gain strength. He felt the malevolence rising, flowing into him. He, a machine, felt the greatest of fear at that one moment.
It was a fear all afflicted by the web felt. Unable to move, they felt themselves corrupted by the malice.
“By what manner of hubris did they think they could use the gifts of the Gods without permission?” growled the pale creature. “If they are so keen on being servants, then we will make them servants…”
Panic was quick to spread at this turn of events. Ships caught in the web tried to contact others in the fleet, finding that they were unable to. Unnatural voices whispered in their minds, echoing through every recess.
Those unaffected desperately tried hailing their comrades, receiving only a static filled response of nonsense that numbed the brain of those who listened for more than a few seconds at a time before shutting down the link.
***
But the true horror had yet to begin. The web of energy disappeared after a few moments of tenseness. Once again, the unaffected ships tried to hail their peers, but this time there was only silence to be heard. Tzorvar Prime turned around to face a cluster of Harmony ships and raised its tentacles. From its spinning Arcane-Manipulators, Spell-core beams erupted, blasting its former allies apart.
Following suit, many ships and mechs turned on the Harmony, the guns that so readily destroyed the necroliers wiping away the Peace Corps. Ships began to scatter and ships began to pursue. Chaos ensued as no one knew who was friend or foe.
“And with that,” the pale creature said, watching the havoc unfold. “the whims of fate demand… change…”
Phineas panned his head from side to side, seeing the blurs rushing past his shuttle, ships fleeing from the battle.
“Abort! Abort!” he heard their pilots cry over the comms. “They’ve taken control of the assault group!”
And just like that, any prospect of victory was dashed across the remaining Harmony fleet.
“How!?”
“Why!?”
Questions were spouted, manic demands for answers that no one had. Rushing forth from the horizon, the pursuing ships flew as one. Necrolier ranks were mixed with that of Harmony warships and battle mechs.
“Priority one, get these civilians off of this damned planet!”
“We can’t shoot down our allies!”
“They aren’t our allies anymore! You either shoot them down or they kill us all!”
Phineas watched the advance of the converted ships, appalled. How could so many just… defect at once? For what reason? What cause? Why would anyone willingly go against themselves in such a manner, as joining the deathless was just that –a betrayal of all life in the galaxy!
“I can’t fight them…” Phineas told himself. “They aren’t part of the Polymerization… they aren’t abominations of science and nature… they are people… people fighting for a cause I can’t fathom but…”
He trailed off as the rescue division took to the air, the fighters flying around the designated transports. They were running away… and Phineas did not blame them. Hopelessly confused, Phineas turned his ship to join the exodus. One last glance towards the tide of enemies had him seeing the black, brown and red unit again. He pitched upwards and fired up his engines, joining the other ships before enabling the shuttle’s autopilot.
He pulled his legs from the neuro-link sleeves and pulled his helmet off of his head. He held his head up with a hoof as he started to cry silently in the cockpit.
The only one he could have called a friend in the entire galaxy was lost to him now.
The patchwork hologram spun lazily above the super projector. Territorial markers no longer had defined boundaries. Instead, what used to separate different galactic provinces were now ambiguous meandering lines created by regions of emptiness: regions of space that no longer transmitted data. Consequently, what remained of the galactic map were small islands of blue light, housing tiny white dots inside them and each one separated by varying distances of space. These distances ranged from the relatively mundane, a couple of parsecs or so, to immense stretches of space spanning across the entire galaxy. The spots of blue moved lazily as the image revolved, barely having any resemblance to the spiral arms that used to be displayed.
Uolix looked down on the image from one of the walkways over the super projector, deep in thought. Her Arcane-Manipulators were slung over the railing, claws dangling idly. Of the rows of computers below, several were without anyone operating them, most of their monitors dark and offline. The few that were still on flickered, the information scrutinized by the few analysts on duty. She sighed softly and shook her head. The Galactic Situation Observatory was a lot more vacant as of late, ever since the collapse of the Thymal Republic. In fact, a lot of the Peace Corps’ standings in the galaxy were understaffed, if not destroyed entirely.
“And this is just the first week…” she said to herself.
She recalled the shock she felt on the first day of the deathless tide; she was studying the galactic display and watched as the formerly allied ships jumped in between the star systems of the galaxy. Each system started to redden, to her great horror. So many systems were under attack at once that she couldn’t have had the projector focused on just one star. Instead, she could only imagine what went on during the initial raid before the Harmony’s patrol drones were systematically wiped out, thereby denying monitoring centers of any information. Many of the Peace Corps’ outposts were eliminated along with the drones in the following days, leaving only a paltry few facilities scattered across the stars and a galactic map that did not qualify to be called anything of the sort.
“What will become of the galaxy by the end of the month… the year?”
She put her head down on the railing and rolled it from side to side, the true weight of the crisis bearing down on her. In addition to the original enemy, former Harmony ships were seeking out the bastions they used to protect to destroy them. The only reason why facilities like the G.S.O remained was that they warped out of their original positions to take refuge elsewhere. Other nebulas, asteroid fields, barren planets and moons among other places protected them from the hunters prowling through space, and a strict silence in between the remaining bodies of the Peace Corps was established so that communications could not be traced to individual strongholds. Other forms of data such as that which contributed to the super projector’s hologram were transmitted sporadically and encrypted with tight security that took some time to unlock. As a result, the data shown was not up to date more often than not.
Knowing this made Uolix wish she wasn’t the one-time commander of the Harmony. It was her call, after all, that brought about the catastrophe that ensued. It was why she was watching from high above her usual position, alone. She found it nigh impossible to face the few that remained on the G.S.O. How could she, when the subjugation of the galaxy could be traced back to the decision she made? She continued rolling her head on the railing, finding herself suddenly overcome with despair. If this was not the beginning of the end for all life in the galaxy, then it was the beginning of the second Age of Strife: the second galactic war, more centuries of bloodshed and misery. This time however, the foes were also old friends.
“And this is only the first week…” her soft distorted voice sounded brittle, afflicted with a temblor as she spoke to herself. “Only the first week and we are already at the brink…” She started shivering as she cried silently far above her post, the hologram spinning, the analysts typing away at their terminals, her metal limbs hanging over the edge. “Forgive me, my friends. I’ve failed everyone.”
***
A week of living on some cast aside backwater world would normally have wrecked someone’s spirits. Especially when resources were running out and dependence on the local bounty was increasing daily, at that. But in spite of it, the officer sat back against a medium sized log at ease, his helmet resting on it off to his side. He had his arms crossed behind his head and his feet kicked up on a smooth, moss covered rock, basking in front of a large campfire that several other refugees were gathered around. The yellow light fell on his flat naked face, warming his blue-gray scales. It danced in his amber colored eyes, his pupils dilated to tiny slits that ran horizontally across, bisecting them. The shadows were absent from beneath the pronounced bony ridges that protruded slightly over the ranger’s eyes.
He was an oddity among the group of displaced people. Most of them looked lost and shaken, huddled up together around the fire. Others stayed at the ships that served as housing, a short walk through the alien forest to the treeline. The officer did not care either way, though. To him, life itself was ending, though he hadn’t died yet. While he always thought that, should he lose his teammates, he would feel some drive to avenge their deaths somehow, he didn’t. He only felt void left by their lack of presence. They were gone and no righteous crusade was going to bring them back. No quest for revenge was going to bring anyone back, or reverse the damage done.
It was a week since the defeat at Thymal, and the officer’s resolve was to go quietly into the great beyond. He fought to no good end. The only thing left for him was living out the rest of his life as happily as he could as death spread through the galaxy.
So he rested against the log, the stars stretched across the dark skies overhead, blocked by interlocking branches and broad leaves with dimly glowing, sharp edges. The officer laid his head on the log, mindful of the horns and stared up into the night.
He heard someone approaching and his eyes rolled over to the side. Emerging from the corner of his vision was a refugee in gray armor. Against the fire, most of the equine figure was in shadow save for the yellow screens covering its eyes, which defied the flames with their own distinct shine. The light created a warm outline around the pony’s form. The officer grunted, raising a scaly brow at the pony, who then sat on its haunches and looked up through the canopy.
“You know, it’s been a while since I’ve looked up at the sky like this. Since I’ve really looked at it.” The stallion chuckled. “I don’t recognize a damn thing. All the stars are in the wrong place. This isn’t the sky that I know.”
The officer glanced upwards as if to confirm. “That so?” he replied casually, not even questioning why a stranger would strike up conversation with him of all people. He had nothing but time left. He wasn’t going to spend it being confrontational.
“Not that I expected it to look anything like the sky I knew,” said the pony. “I’m a long ways away from where the stars would have matched what I remember.”
“I would imagine,” the officer replied. “You have any family that long ways away?”
The pony didn’t answer for a short moment. When he spoke again, he said, “I don’t have much of anything to call a family anywhere.”
The officer grunted. “You’re lucky then. Far better off than most of our little group here.”
“What a way to look at it,” the stallion said before chuckling again. It wasn’t an amused chuckle. It was more like one of disbelief, as if the notion of him being luckier than anyone was ridiculous.
“When you’re standing before the end, you can afford to look at things a bit differently,” the ranger replied.
The stallion scoffed. “At the end, huh?” he asked. “I suppose that answers my question.”
“Question?” the officer inquired.
“Yeah, ‘just why the hell do you seem so relaxed about all this?’ Makes sense if you’ve given up already. Found your peace and all that, I take it?”
The ranger sat up. “Do I detect a bit of anger in that tone of yours, stranger?”
“Why would I be angry?” the pony said. He shrugged and added: “It’s not like the galaxy’s falling apart or anything, and needs people fighting for it. If not for the sake of those who can’t fight, then for the sake of sending the bastards who decided it’d be a good idea to lay waste to everything packing!”
“I’ve fought as much as I’m able to fight, stranger. This armor I’m wearing?” The ranger pointed to his red suit and white plating with both hands. “In case you didn’t recognize it like your stars, it’s G.P.C issued equipment. I was fighting for the Harmony since it was founded, and all I’ve gotten since was people telling us to fuck off and dead friends. It’s been a week since I’ve stopped fighting and it feels nice to be able to say that, even with the galaxy ‘falling apart’.”
It was the ranger’s turn to scoff. “I wonder how many of them changed their minds about the Harmony as their precious towers fell and cities burned-“
Before he knew it, the officer found himself pinned to the log, a sharp pain shooting through the back of his head. The pony had a front hoof pressed up against his neck, putting a surprising amount of strength into the hold and keeping him down against the log.
“… Mind… the horns…” the officer rasped.
The pony’s impassive stare was unreadable. A few others eyed him warily, but made no move to intervene. Typical, the officer thought. After a few moments though, the pony relented. He stepped backwards a few paces and the ranger sat up, rubbing his throat with a hand.
“So much for my week without fighting.”
“It isn’t nice to speak badly about the dead.” The pony looked off into the wilderness.
“Who said I was talking about the dead?” The officer responded. He shot a few quick glances at the civilians around the campfire.
“Why did you fight at all?” the pony asked suddenly.
“… What?” the ranger replied, understandably confused.
“You fought to keep peace, right? Even if others did not approve, that was your motivation, right? That was what the Harmony was all about?”
“Sure but… things changed. There is no peace to keep now. Just a war we’re all losing,” said the officer.
“It isn’t a war if there is no opposing side. No, what’s going on out there?” The pony pointed up to the heavens. “That’s not a war. That’s what I call a slaughter.”
“Keep in mind what I said earlier about looking at things differently, stranger.”
“You’re seeing things from the perspective of someone who’s given up hope,” the pony said with rising intensity. “If you did that when the Hoof-Talons were still around, would you even be alive right now?”
“Who are you anyway? And what does it mean to you that I fight, anyway?” the ranger shot back.
“My name is Phineas Startrot, but you can just call me Federation pony. Everyone else does. And what it means to me that you fight?” The stallion approached the ranger until his masked face was inches away from the officer’s. “It means that I know that I can’t go about this on my own. I’ve been thinking this over for a while now, and I know I’ll need help. We can’t just hide on this planet. We need to start working on a counterattack.”
“You asking for help from others is a request for them to relinquish their life,” said the ranger unflinchingly.
“What’s the point of living if you’ve got nothing to live for?” Phineas asked.
“What’s the point of fighting when you’ve got nothing left to fight for?” the officer retorted.
Phineas grabbed the ranger and shouted, “You’re still alive aren’t you!? Isn’t that reason enough to fight!? To fight for your life and to make them pay for ending the lives of countless others!?”
Now everyone was staring at the episode playing out before their eyes.
“To fight is to die! There is no meaning in that! No greater good! I’ve seen it happen with my own damned eyes! I watched my whole squad die for nothing!” the ranger shouted back. “I saw them get gunned down fighting!”
“But they didn’t die for nothing! You’re still alive! You wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for them,” said Phineas. “And now you owe them this last service. Because they didn’t just die, they didn’t lay down in surrender. They wouldn’t want you to do what they didn’t!”
Phineas let go of the ranger and stepped back again. He was panting; these passionate speeches always took a lot out of him! After catching his breath again, he asked, “So what do you say?”
“Why me? Why me out of everyone else here?” the ranger asked.
“Because you were the only one who looked like he was okay with this shit,” Phineas said bluntly. “And that doesn’t fly with me.”
The officer looked around, seeing that the others were getting up, sensing a fire in them in how they stood with purpose. Clearly, something the pony said reignited some flame in them. He looked to the ground, thinking about his squad. How they stuck together against the undead, making sure that the survivors of the Triterion survived the onslaught.
“And what if we all end up dying doing this?”
“Then we best make sure there are others who can finish the fight,” said Phineas.
The ranger sighed, reached for his helmet and put it on. He stood up, towering over the pony a good five feet. “Space Ranger, Alikir, reporting back for duty, Federation pony.”
“It’s good to have you back, Space Ranger,” Phineas replied, saluting. He turned around to face the others, who were also saluting. Smiling underneath his helmet, the silver stallion thought: “I can’t believe this melodramatic shit actually worked out!”
The bright-edged leaves rustled with a gentle breeze, the pale light running along the forest floor until they blended into the light created by the campfire.
Phineas heard a pronounced female voice from off to his side say, “As much as I agree with you, Federation pony, I’ve got to ask just how you intend to go about this counterattack without getting everyone brutally murdered.”
He turned his head to look to the person, expecting her to be looking down at him. To his mild surprise, her face was roughly level with his. She was wearing red and white armor like the ranger, except it was clearly modified to fit her small build. Her helmet was smooth at the back, as opposed to sporting the spikes the tall ranger had on his helmet. Her’s was slightly elongated, however, the visor curving upwards near the middle and sweeping back along the sides of the helmet. Slung on her back was a utility pack and strapped to her thigh was a long barreled pistol.
“Two space rangers in one refugee camp,” Phineas commented with a cock of his head to disguise his reaction to the stranger. “There’s a joke to be made here… I just can’t think of one.”
“Because that’s the most pressing issue here,” the ranger replied, putting her hands on her waist and making an S shape with her neck when she pulled her head back. “Let’s get it out of the way that I’m small, not that you’ve been gifted in size yourself, pony.”
“Whoa, with an attitude like that, no wonder you sound a lot bigger,” Phineas thought. Deciding it’d be best to shift the focus of the conversation, he replied, “I don’t know anything specific. To be honest, I don’t think it’d be in our best interest to start picking fights any time soon. But at the same time, we can’t just stay here doing nothing.”
The female ranger hummed thoughtfully, tapping a finger against the end of her helmet’s snout. “Well first thing’s first. We need supplies. Food, water, ammunitions…” she said.
“I’d think repairs are pretty pressing at this point, too,” Alikir added. “No sense preparing for a war with damaged ships and equipment.”
Phineas nodded. Just because he was able to keep his ship in good condition over the week by working on it to pass the time and gather his thoughts did not mean others were able to do the same. Ships still bore the battle scars from the Fall of Thymal and they would not have reacted well to the elements on the planet, be it the sun or rain or even the air itself.
“Well, then we start with what we do have and work from there,” he said. “And what we have right now is… a convoy of ships and their crews.”
“What remains of their crews and a load of civilians,” the female ranger corrected him.
“Doesn’t seem to be stopping ‘em” said Alikir. He looked over to the campfire and watched as those without the Harmony’s uniforms or pendant conversed with other soldiers and held guns and other kinds of weapons experimentally.
Phineas followed the tall ranger’s sight and looked at them himself, grunting affirmatively. ”I wasn’t so different myself, he thought. “You’d be surprised how far one would go if they have a cause to fight for…”
“You sound like you’ve seen things like this happen a lot,” the female ranger said.
”Lived it, you mean. Phineas shook his head. “It’s just what happens when some tragedy like this strikes. They’ve lost loved ones and friends… the life they used to have…”
“So that’s why you made a whole drama out of me? Had to make an example and put them back on the right path?” Alikir said, folding his arms.
“Sorry about that. I am, honestly.” Phineas replied, though inwardly he did not feel as bad as he thought he would for deliberately manipulating the situation to suit his goals. He wanted what was best so it didn’t matter… right?
Alikir waved it off and didn’t say anything else to that end.
“Just know that you’ve gotten what you’ve wanted,” the female ranger said. She walked up to Phineas, putting as little space between them as he had done with Alikir. She pressed a finger against his chest piece and continued warningly: “We’re all going to be depending on you to help us through this, and it’s going to take a lot more than strong words to-“
Phineas swatted her hand away with a hoof. “I don’t need to be told. I’ve been agonizing over this decision for days now. Normally I would have been more than happy to fly off and deal with problems by myself but I just can’t now.”
He lowered his head, the image of Tsubar’s mech flashing before his eyes. His mech among hundreds of others flying with the black ships, those horrific tributes to death itself; it almost made him ill to think about it. He shook his head.
“I can’t now because there isn’t anyone else I could feasibly turn to out there in space. There might be others with the same idea but who can say how far out they are spread out? Who’s to say anywhere is safe?”
Both Alikir and the female ranger were struck silent at the stallion’s confiding in them. After a while, Alikir turned his head to look to his diminutive fellow soldier. “Most of the Harmony fell that day,” he said, “chances are-“
“They went after the outposts and bases after,” the female ranger interjected. She sighed heavily. “And chances are the Harmony’s presence in the galaxy has been cut down a fair amount.”
“That’s being generous. My ship, the Triterion, was shot down by the enemy before we were betrayed by damn near everyone. Now add all those ships and mechs into the mix and-“
“It doesn’t look good for the Harmony,” the small ranger concluded, her voice having a downtrodden edge to it.
“Good to know I don’t need to finish a sentence when I’m with you,” Alikir said somewhat jokingly, placing a hand on her shoulder.
After a moment of quiet from Phineas, the stallion stated, “Regardless of how bad things look, I promise to do my best.” He looked back up, looking at the female ranger then at Alikir. “I’m not going to be your great leader –I just can’t. That’s not who I am; but I can make damn sure I give this my all. With the help of the rest of you all this might just work out for the better…”
“This is crazy… a band of displaced civilians and a handful of military personnel are going to stand against the current galactic enemy number one?” the small ranger asked, fully comprehending just how daunting a task the pony was asking them to accomplish.
“Better than waiting for the end, huh?” Alikir responded.
“Eventually,” Phineas said. “Supplies and repairs come first and foremost. Getting more support is also a welcomed plus,” he added.
“So that’s our mission. Sounds good,” the small ranger said, calming down when she focused on the immediate goal. Though she had no idea just how it was going to work out, it was more favorable for her to think about that than the ultimate end to the venture. Finding supplies and fixing damaged spaceships was far more achievable than putting a stop to war waging monsters from beyond the stars.
“Glad you’re on board… uh…” Phineas started to say, realizing midway through that he hadn’t asked for the ranger’s name.
“My name’s Elysia,” she said. “And you have quite the job ahead, explaining your plan to everyone else.”
“Don’t you worry about that. You have the backing of two Space Rangers. You’ll only have to worry about us thinking you’ve gone on some insane, suicidal tangent,” said Alikir.
Phineas nodded. “I appreciate it. In fact, the sooner we get this over with the sooner we can get on with it.”
***
It was not too long later when a call had gone out to all the refugees to meet up at the campfire. Even those that were on the gunships and dropships went out into the cool night to see what the commotion was about. What they saw was the strange pony in gray armor and Space Rangers standing on either side of him.
The crowd handled the briefing surprisingly well, all things considered. By the end of the pony’s speech, most of them were still, either sitting or standing around the fire. None of them flew into a fit of rage or panic. The result, however, could have been attributed to the fact Phineas downplayed the part of his plan which called for eventually mobilizing against the menace plaguing the galaxy and instead, he emphasized the goal of restocking supplies, repairing the convoy’s ships and joining with allied forces whenever they were found.
The refugees were all too eager to leave the planet. The fire was extinguished that night and they all slept in the ships. By time dawn’s light crept over the shining treetops, parties were dispatched into the forest to gather provisions for the quest into space. Edible plants and berries identified by scanning equipment were taken in bulk to be converted into nutrient-gel. Just hours later, the refugees turned freedom fighters started their ascent: loaded up on the designated transports, engines powered up. The grass was blown about beneath the ships and soon after the leaves of the trees followed suit, branches swaying from the exhaust bearing down on them.
The transports turned their noses upwards to the minty green sky and started to climb rapidly; flanked by scores of fighter escorts flying as they did the day they arrived on the planet. The convoy of ships left the domain of the clouds and flew away from the light of the white sun so far away, shadows heading out into the blackness peppered by distant twinkling light.
Though his plan was put in action, Phineas could not be bothered thinking about it. Once again, he had his shuttle’s automation take control of flight, following the rest of the convoy while he himself laid on his cot, deep in thought.
“What do you know about the Harmony’s new tech?” he asked Alikir shortly before the convoy departed. He didn’t expect the ranger to know very much technical information, but he just wanted some idea as to what he missed while he was in his near month long stasis, so he could start thinking about potential upgrades he could make to the shuttle.
The answer he got was a worrying one, indeed. He knew Polymerization technology was used to develop the trackers which allowed the fleets of the galaxy to hunt down and exterminate the hybrids, but he didn’t expect that very same technology to be adopted by what would become the Harmony. They didn’t simply reverse engineer the Hoof-Talon ships… they repurposed them.
This new knowledge coupled with what he knew about the Polymerization and the Star Terrors did not bode well. Though he had no idea how it happened, he was certain that the Harmony fell to the influence of darkness that fateful day due to their dabbling with tainted magi-tech.
The convoy’s first warp was to a depot star system named Urithal. It was one of the territories claimed by the Harmony as an entirely militarized zone. Such places only fueled the ill feelings between the Peace Corps and those it was meant to protect before the attack on Thymal. Currently, it was a stretch of ruins. A red star shed its light on huge wrecks throughout the system. Destroyed ships and facilities alike hung in the vacuum, memorials left for the survivors. They were dark husks with breaks in their walls that allowed beams of light to shine through.
“It’s a graveyard…” one of the escort pilots messaged to the others.
“Did we really expect it to be anything but?” another asked.
“May we recover the bodies of our comrades should we come across them. They deserve a proper farewell from this realm.”
There was a somber silence thereafter. No one wanted to continue talking about the forgone conclusion that the fall of this system was.
After much thought, Phineas was back at the shuttle’s controls, strapped in and looking over the data windows projected on his screen. His scans were returning results that weren’t especially promising in terms of ammo caches and weaponry, but there were other assets that the convoy could have made use of. Scrap metal for repairs, for example, was plentiful. He patched into the comms and said: “Start scavenging what you can. Fighters, stay in formation around the gathering parties. Transports, keep your Spell-cores primed for jump in case we get blindsided here.”
The convoy’s goal was to gather whatever resources they could from the old Harmony territory; Phineas had his own personal objective to go about completing, however. His scans were turning up all sorts of strange readings, though they were not completely unknown to the shuttle’s data stores. They were the same readings detected from a vast majority of the Harmony ships that fateful day, overlooked by the stallion at the time as he was caught up in the ensuing mayhem. Knowing what he did now, Phineas took it upon himself to investigate.
The convoy spread out in the debris field, each transport having a group of fighters circling around them tightly. The transports hung over the space husks, ramps and loading bays open. People in spacesuits traversed the hull with pulses from their jetpacks, equipment kits in tow as they went about collecting materials. They were all shadows against the red star in the distance.
The Equestrian shuttle was landed on the exterior hull of the remains of a warship, a broad semicircular construct that would have had had a steadily rising superstructure, but at present it was completely blown apart, the fragments of metal suspended above and around it. A designated transport loomed overhead, a crew of just a little more than ten jetting down to the wreck. The pony pilot was already walking across the hull, magnetic clamps keeping him fastened down in the zero-g environment.
With the bulk of the ship’s structure missing, the thick hull plating on the side walls were reduced to stringy-looking slabs of metal with melted edges. Phineas surveyed the damage, noting that the failures in the hull were most likely caused by concentrated ballistic weaponry. Not beams, but considerably powerful rounds that passed right through the ship’s armor. There were patterns of overlapping holes where numerous shots hit the same area. The ship’s command center was bombarded by them, perforating the hull until the whole section came off. Phineas was able to look into the lower levels of the warship from the edge of the giant hole left, the edges scorched and eroded away.
He did not want to enter the dark crevasse that awaited him. But he had to. He knew that it was something he had to do if he wanted to start answering some of his questions, and it was about time that he followed up a tangible lead.
“So the Harmony decided it’d be a good idea to incorporate the Hoof-Talon tech into their ships, hmm?” Phineas said to himself. He took a deep breath. “Then it’s time for me to take a look at what they’ve done. How considerate that the defenders decided to take out the upper decks… makes my job a whole lot easier…”
As the gathering crew started to cut out pieces of hull plating with Magi-Flux Harmonizers, Phineas stepped over the edge of the hole and deployed his boosters. He angled their ends upwards and fired a short burst of red exhaust, descending into the shadows. His helmet promptly compensated for the lack of light. All around him were hallways but they might as well have been catacombs, ancient relics filled with all kinds of mysteries.
”Engineering block,” Phineas told himself mentally. ”Find that and you have the root of all this evil… literally”
He spent the next few minutes maneuvering around the gaping wound in the ship, his boosters lighting up the darkness every so often as he changed directions, investigating the numerous corridors surrounding him. One hallway in particular had something of particular interest: a word. It was written in large alien symbols on the left wall, the text darkened by scorch marks and strange stains. Phineas jetted over to it and held a foreleg out to stop himself when he neared it. He eyed it curiously, thinking it might have been a location marker. He raised his PDA up to it and attempted to scan the word with the Universal Translator, but got a failed reading. The burns and stains made the translation inconclusive.
“Shit,” Phineas mumbled. He pushed himself away from the wall and jetted out of the passageway. “I suppose I can find a terminal and try to reactive it like I did back on that science vessel… will be a bit harder, what with the ship being shot to pieces and all…” he said to himself as he thought out loud. Hearing his own voice in his helmet helped him deal with the absolute silence of his surroundings.
After searching for another stretch of time, Phineas came across a wall terminal a few levels further down in the warship. He felt a surge of hope at the find, but quickly found it to be inoperable. The screen was cracked and dim, unable to display anything.
“Damn,” he said, pressing a hoof against it. “Solutions… solutions… ah! I know!”
He sat on his haunches, pulled out his Magi-Flux Harmonizer and proceeded to try to establish a mana charge in the computer’s assembly. After spending another few minutes messing around with the internal components, the stallion was successfully able to restart the terminal. The light on the screen flickered on, the image scrambled.
He put away the Harmonizer and connected his PDA to the console, turning on its projector afterwards. After a moment, streams of text ran across the little plane of light above the device. “Map,” said the silver stallion. “Phineas needs map to go do things with.” He paused, looked up from the PDA and over the computer. He was staring at the wall ahead of him when he thought: ”And once again… I fear for my sanity.”
He decided to leave contemplating his mental health for a later time, when he didn’t have a mystery he was trying to solve. He tapped the PDA’s buttons, scouring the ship’s databanks for schematics and finding that a large portion of the information was either lost or corrupted when the vessel was disabled. He settled for a general overview of the ship’s layout and disconnected from the terminal. He put the Harmonizer back in his toolkit and he started to study the graph, looking for the area he was currently in so that he could find a route to the warship’s engineering section.
The layout was a 2D diagram listing off the deck levels and the various functions that went on in each designation, such as the forward lower level decks being devoted to light plasma weaponry the likes of small gun turrets. Phineas found the now missing superstructure on the overview and started counting off the levels until he came across the one he was currently on.
“Hex-drive missiles… what the hell are Hex-drive missiles?” Phineas muttered.
Apparently, the new type of warhead was stored where he was, possibly still loaded up in launch silos located further down the hallway. Being on board a ship with potentially live ordnance like that made him very uneasy… but then again, he didn’t feel at ease flying into the dark bowels of a defeated warship that had been wrangled over to evil’s ends in the first place.
“Whatever they are, they can’t be anything good, that’s for damn sure.”
The pony continued studying the layout until he found what he wanted: A maintenance access tunnel he could use to reach the engine core. There were several located around the ship but this one was the closest one to him. Even then, it would be a winding trek through the dark innards of the warship.
“And now the fun begins,” he said dryly while he tapped a button on the PDA. The hologram faded away and he got up onto all fours. He started walking down the hallway, his entry point and the terminal nearby disappearing into the shadows behind him. The faint glow from his helmet’s visors ran along the deep red colored walls. Eventually, he came across the door to the maintenance tunnel and he attempted to administer a magic charge to its control panel. Failing that, he relied on the next best thing.
“Open you bloody bastard!” Phineas grunted. After cutting the doorlocks with his Harmonizer, he put his crowbar to use. With one redoubled effort, the stubborn obstacle gave way, one angular half of it sliding into its frame. Phineas put the crowbar back in its toolbox and pushed the other side of the door aside before stepping through the doorway. He looked back at the opening and muttered, “I thought one of the good things about doors was that they opened when someone wanted them to.”
He turned around and tensed instantly, seeing a dark shape rushing towards him from around a corner a short distance away, grappling the walls with multiple limbs. They were long and thin, segmented in an insectile manner, tipped with claws that stabbed into the metal. The body the limbs were connected to was burly, reminding Phineas of the more muscular species of beings he came across –save for the fact that said body stopped roughly past the creature’s stomach and had various bits of organic matter dangling freely from the nasty gash where its waist should have been.
Phineas was immediately poised to react, spreading out his hooves in a combat stance as he deployed his hover-platform rifles. The white-blue light the muzzle flash produced lit up the tunnel, bolts of magic boring searing tunnels through the undead. It positioned many of its limbs ahead of itself and tugged forcefully, slingshotting itself at the armored stallion.
Phineas stopped firing and swung himself around, split-seconds away from deploying his energy blade when the undead collided with his flank, flooring him. It tried to using its mass of insectoid limbs to pin him down and he looked up into the monster’s sickly eyes and snarled, “Oh fuck this!”
The rifle in between him and the undead turned to direct its lethal end at the creature, but several of the limbs caught the length of the barrel and forced it aside. But in doing so, the creature released its hold on Phineas’ leg and he took full advantage of that. He started to kick at the torso, landing several good blows and subsequently dislodging various organs. They fell out onto the floor in a blackened heap, coated in a disgusting slime.
Aside from making him feel progressively sicker in the stomach, Phineas’ efforts did not seem to have any other effect other than forcing the monster away a few feet. It gnashed its bony jaws ravenously, bits of flesh floating around in zero gravity.
Phineas whipped his tail around and deployed the cutting energies from the end of the sheath, slicing apart the limbs holding onto him. He then rolled away from the undead and got back on his hooves, stepping backwards while putting his reticles back on the undead.
In turn, the monster grappled the walls with its remaining limbs and climbed up to the ceiling, where it proceeded to scramble toward the pony to attack him from above.
”Oh no you don’t!”
He opened fire again, searing bolts of magic slamming into the undead and eating through it. It threw itself at the pony again, but by then it sustained so much damage that it fell apart, a sizable meaty chunk slamming into the floor beside the pony before bouncing and floating back up, deflecting off the wall and continuing to drift down the tunnel.
The rest of the deathless squirmed in front of the pony, its cauterized limbs groping for purchase in order to drag itself at its target. Phineas grimaced at the display. Steeling himself, he approached it, guns aimed down at it should it try anything bold.
“You used to be… alive once, weren’t you?” Phineas said as he looked at the abominable creature. It continued reaching for him with lopped off limbs, snapping its jaws. It never took its burning, pupil-less eyes off of him. “By my merciful Celestia, what in the hell have they done to you…?”
He stopped at the very edge of the undead’s reach and fired both his rifles simultaneously into the undead’s head, putting an end to its unsettling movements. Its limbs floated lazily about like the vapor rising out of the dimly glowing holes in the monster’s flesh. With a sigh, Phineas stowed his rifles.
He noticed the pendant the undead had around its neck and shook his head. He recognized it because many of the displaced Harmony soldiers still wore them. “So Tsubar probably looks like you then,” Phineas said somberly. “Just how the fuck did you lot using a bit of machinery end up causing all this…”
He shook his head again. With the possibility of there being more of these twisted undead creatures prowling the halls of the warship, he started to wonder if it was really worth it to press on to the engine block. ”I need to know how this happened. It may be the only way to get closure on this whole mess happening with me being unable to stop it…”
So Phineas went on with his venture. He did not run into another deathless on the way to his destination, but saw the evidence of a grisly event splattered on the walls. He tried not to think about what could have occurred to leave such ghastly imagery but found himself victim to his own nature.
When he finally reached the engine, he was greeted with the sight of a strange construction. Giant cylinders were locked into a central unit with all kinds of extensions coming out of them, creating thick bundles of cables and metal fixtures. The containment chamber for the engine was completely dark, but with his helmet’s enhancing function Phineas was able to make out the runic writing etched on the pylons.
“So this is what is called a Hex-core, huh?” the stallion commented. “By Luna’s tail, the damn name sounds evil!”
He spent some time just… looking at the thing. It was just a construct of metal and magic, yet there was something so much more to what a Hex-core truly was, he knew. It was technology gained from the Hoof-Talons, who in turn developed it under the influence of incomprehensible power to forward an agenda he could not begin to understand. And it was the critical flaw of the Harmony, crippled and corrupted by their own spacecraft.
“Could it be that this was all planned by the Star Terrors?” Phineas asked himself. It was an unsettling thought. If that were true, what did it mean that he interacted with the Iopteryx? What did it mean that he saw it in his dreams, and even when he awoke from stasis? His actions indirectly set the stage for this crisis, so was he a pawn in an immensely greater cosmic game?
These were hard questions to ask, much less contemplate as much as the silver stallion did, sitting before the black mass of machinery and occult sorcery. Sitting there, he could have sworn he felt a presence, barely tangible, as if he were being watched. He knew then that these vessels built around blight were wards for evil, things to be destroyed.
“If you all are Gods,” said the silver stallion as he stood up, his eyes fixed into glares underneath his helmet’s visors as he gazed upon the Hex-core. “This galaxy… this universe… would be better off without you.”
There was a strange sound then, one that Phineas heard outside of his helmet. A low groan, a far off roar, a mad cackle, they sounded off as one around him. “Then do not delay, pony. We eagerly accept your challenge.” he heard a collection of voices say, alien languages and… unnatural sounds, twisted into words that he could understand.
Phineas grunted, defiant as ever. “No force from heaven or hell could turn me into its puppet.”
“Such pride… such foolishness… it will not go unpunished. Your friend learned this. You will learn it as well, in due time.”
And with that, Phineas turned away from the Hex-core. Not because he was intimidated by the threat, but because they went too far. Now, he felt that fire burning inside him. This wasn’t a fight to regain sovereignty over the galaxy. This was a war to bring divinity to justice.
Phineas jetted out of the warship, bathed in the light of explosions all around it. The gunships unloaded their weaponry into the husks of former Harmony ships, sending them and the undead infestation within them into oblivion.
“And what better way to start a war than to destroy all symbols of the enemy?” he asked himself as he made his way toward the shuttle.
All in all, the gathering mission was a respectable success, a small step in the right direction.
After turning the deathless husks into dust to be scattered on the solar wind, the convoy turned its focus towards repairing damages throughout the formations. Ships were moored together with special manipulating beams and whole crews walked along the hulls of them, tools equipped and put to work. Phineas looked at their progress from within the cockpit of his shuttle as it idled through space around them.
He wondered how they would handle having to fight the undead. He wondered how ready they were to gun down what were possibly former friends and family. To his own inquiries, he had one grim answer: ”A proper leader would ask them.”
But he wasn’t one to lead. He was told of the error of his ways by the old Federation council at the very beginning of the end, and since then he learned that their judgment was accurate. He leaned back in his seat, thinking about that era of time where he actually dreamed of being a leader.
When he looked back on it he wondered what naïve foolishness possessed him to pursue such a goal. No glory and rank was worth knowing that every precious soul lost was his responsibility, as he learned over his journey through the fields of death. There was a distinct line between fighting for the greater good with those of mutual stances and taking up the role of general, after all. It was far easier to accept losses as brave souls making the ultimate sacrifice than to ponder what flawed decision on his part led to their demise.
Phineas sat there in his shuttle, stewing over his inability to step into a position of leadership while facing the paradoxical fact that he needed them all to follow him into battle. Now more than ever at that, since he had extended the blade of war past the celestial raiders to those they served. The Star Terrors were the ultimate power the galaxy has ever known. How was he ever going to free it from their reign? How could he stop destroyers of worlds? How could he hope to fight against things that perceive eons as one would regard a minute or a second, at that?
Phineas hung his head. At that moment, what he wanted to know the most was why the hell these thoughts didn’t occur to him when he was sitting there, staring at that damned machine. What brash stupidity, what senseless passion possessed him to do such a thing? But he groaned and held his head with his hooves. He knew full well why he did what he did.
“Tsubar… you’ve done a lot of things I don’t understand,” the stallion said to himself. “Using these Hex-cores… you must’ve known something was wrong when you decided to stick them in your ships…”
He thought back to The Fall. All of those ships and those battle mechs engaging the horror-craft in tandem, their power commanding reverence and their ferocity stunning. Phineas knew the power the accursed blend of sorcery and technology had for he had seen it at work. He had also seen how the pilots of those vessels reacted to it. Whether or not they were drunk off of their own strength or if they were enslaved by the corrupting essence of Polymerization tech, he could not tell. He only knew that the performance of those fighting machines was one to behold, and quite possibly why Tsubar ran the risk of meddling with the dark magic. But what a price to pay for ambition!
“I’ll never know your reasoning; that much is clear. But at least I can go on thinking that you had the galaxy’s best interest at heart, Tsubar. I think that’s all you ever wanted for everyone, by any cost if need be.” Phineas recalled one of his last discussions with the Shu’badi mechanic back on the ill-fated Desolus.
"I think that's one huge-ass conjecture, but go on mister preacher-pony.”
Phineas chuckled dryly. He’d miss that about the Seapony, but as long as he had something to miss then at least he’d still have some bond with his friend, right? He understood full well why he challenged the Star Terrors. They couldn’t get away with their crimes, and they certainly couldn’t get away with disrespecting one of the galaxy’s greatest heroes like they did. His greatest concern was making good on his promises of justice and retribution.
But in the end, that’s what it always came down to: him making good on his promises.
“I’ll find a way. No force of heaven or hell can control me, and no force of heaven and hell can stop me!”
***
On the bridge of one of the designated transport ships, Alikir stood before a galactic star map. The hologram hovered over emitters that were mounted on a slowly spinning circular metal plate inside a cubic piece of machinery, the cone of light that shone from the devices rotating around the image at a somewhat steep angle.
The ranger had his hands tucked behind him as he looked upon the display, the visor of his helmet retracted. The light swirled around in his golden eyes. A hiss of air behind him signaled the opening of one of the doors to the bridge and his eyes rolled over to one side. From the corner of his vision he saw the small shape of Elysia approaching. He looked forward again when she was seconds away from stopping at his side.
She said nothing when she was standing next to him, simply mirroring the taller ranger’s pose and looking up at the hologram. Her visor split apart and disappeared into her helmet. The light of the projection reflected off of her wide dark eyes, which looked like they lacked sclera and were just completely inky in color.
The two rangers stood in silence at the back of the large elliptical room, surrounded by operators sitting in front of wall mounted units and terminals. They chatted amongst themselves idly, awaiting their orders. A short distance ahead of the nav-station was the captain’s helm, the large seat occupied by a Ghanax in bulky blue armor. Its shoulder guards, for instance, were massive and decorated with small engravings of opened beaks, a hallmark of a warrior for the previous age of war. Attached to them was a purple cape that had a hood of the same color. The hood was draped over the captain’s helmet-fastened head.
The Ghanax supported its chin on the knuckles of a thick metal gauntlet, which in turn was held up by the elbow on the helm’s armrest, like a bored noble. Its eyes, two narrow glowing lines behind the screen of its visor stared out through the main view port into space.
“Thrilling work?” the female ranger whispered after a short while, leaning towards Alikir slightly.
“Not in the least,” Alikir replied, “I’ve been searching for signs of any allied fleet activity for ages now.”
“I’m going to assume it’s not going well,” said Elysia.
“The problem is: no one’s broadcasting. And for good reason, too, if they did then they would become bait for our… uh… death impaired friends.”
Elysia shuffled uncomfortably in place. Alikir cocked a scaly brow at this. “You didn’t know?” he asked her. “I mean, before we found them in the scrap-“
The small ranger shook her head. “I knew since the first day,” she said. “I was part of a ground force dispatched to run damage control when things were going bad at Thymal. We went through rubble looking for survivors and we found ourselves getting into firefights with the enemy…”
She trailed off and sighed. Alikir nodded, understanding. “How many of your squad did you lose?” he asked. Her gaze fell to the floor.
“All of them.”
The taller ranger grunted. “I think we of the red and white are cursed. Everyone we’ve come to know… come to depend on…”
“All the more reason to fight, hmm?” Elysia replied.
“The Federation pony has quite a way of drumming up support, doesn’t he?” Alikir responded, noting Elysia’s reference.
“He speaks the words of hope, which is why I went out of my way to hold him to them that night.” The small ranger folded her arms.
“Someone who can speak with such conviction and inspire those with nothing to live for to fight again should not speak their words lightly,” Elysia stated.
“But the Federation pony has done great things… so I’m willing to believe in him. I’m willing to… hope… even though everything that has happened to me and everyone around me is reason enough to abandon all hope…”
Elsewhere across the vastness of space, the grief stricken Shu’badi was locked away in her quarters. The lights were dimmed down, meaning the only illumination that entered the room were rays of a faraway star, filtered through the metallic vents that covered her window. The silvery light ran across the white walls, broken only by the Shu’badi’s shadow.
She was sitting up on her bed tucked into the corner of the small room, a sleep pod that had its cover raised up. She was resting upon the deep purple cushiony interior, not hovering around as one would normally find her kind doing in their suits. The claws of her Arcane-Manipulators were cupped together in front of her face, an orb of soft blue light manifested in between them.
Next to the bed was a boxy container that had a table top on it and on the opposite side of the room was an L-shaped work station. The work station was slightly angled downwards from the wall it was mounted on, having several buttons on in arranged into various groups across it. Along with the buttons were a great number of monitors and holo-imaging systems.
Normally, when she was in her quarters, Uolix would have been diligently looking over the instrumentation panel, keeping tabs on the various projects and happenings going on across the sprawling space complex. It would have been no different from what she did normally in the observation chamber, except in her quarters she had the privilege of privacy and personal amenities.
She had one of her last conversations with Tsubar in this very room. The mechanic had been working tirelessly on the Tzorvar Prime project during the prior weeks. Uolix’s mind was filled with still images as she sat in her room, mental photographs. In them she was at the bottom floor level of the ship bay, looking up at the giant taking form in its cage. Tsubar was with her in them, at the very edges of her vision. He was also looking up at it, one of his Arcane-Manipulators curving around with a holographic data sheet being displayed from a split in the limb’s plating. The memories cycled, always starting with the unit in its barest form. It was nothing more than a metal skeleton back in those times, with veins formed by various cables and wires crisscrossing throughout its proto-body. The memories always ended with the finished mech, locked up in its restraints, enclosed by the holding cage. Tsubar always made an effort to keep himself in check and levelheaded, but Uolix knew that inside, he was ecstatic about what the completion of Tzorvar Prime would mean for the rest of the galaxy.
The unit was a prototype bridging into the next generation of Harmony fighting machines. Mechs were created before it with the knowledge gleaned from the Hoof-Talon technology, but they were outfitted with relatively conventional weaponry. Missiles, directed magical energy and things along those lines. Tzorvar Prime was supposed to be the next big leap in the galaxy’s capabilities. It was supposed to be a machine capable of using magic itself as a weapon. A machine that could call upon the latent energy interwoven with the fabric of reality itself and unleash it for the sole purpose of safeguarding the peace ushered forth from the destruction of the Hoof-Talons.
It was meant to be a god made from metal; a construct given a soul by all those who worked to create its frame and armor. A Star Terror by any other name, designed with the intention to kill others of its kind.
Even the best laid plans often go astray, but no one could have predicted what a terrible turn of events awaited them. Tsubar had his eyes set on a war to prevent all other wars that had yet to happen. Uolix had her eyes set on maintaining the order that the Harmony brought while repairing the strained relationship it had with the sovereign powers.
But all she had now were the fragments of what could have been a bright age. That age was now drowning in an all too familiar darkness. In the orb of light, her memories played out in front of her. They were of a time that was not better than the present. Even so, it was a time of… happiness. Things were grim but there was happiness to be found. The Desolus was the ark of her happiness, back then.
In that orb, Uolix saw her friends, alive and well. There was no sound, but the hologram invoked all of her senses. She saw Romaz hovering down the hall, one of her metal limbs held up in greeting to her. Suddenly, the hologram’s point of view whipped around to where the freighter’s captain had gotten to. Uolix could almost hear that crash again; almost feel the same surprise as she did when that happened. Romaz was underneath Tsubar, Tsubar was in a tangled heap on top of her and spilled across the passage way were all manner of scrap parts and components that the mechanic was taking back to his wing of the ship.
Romaz’s Arcane-Manipulators flailed wildly in the recording. ”Would you get off of me!?”
”I’d love to,” Uolix remembered Tsubar replying, “but we seem to have our arms locked and you throwing them around ISN’T MAKING ANYTHING BETTER!”
”Friends, please, Gaali appeared from around the corner, drawn by the sound of conflict. ”Why must you let your passion escalate so?”
”Who’s letting their passion do anything!?” Tsubar retorted. “I’m not the one waving my limbs around like some Y’bunta trying to attract a mate!”
Romaz’s Arcane-Manipulators wrapped around the mechanic. ”You’ve got some nerve, talking to your captain like that!
The projection turned away from the bickering duo and the pleading peacemaker to the Shu’badi that had been silent that whole time. Javic peeked past Uolix to look at the scene then looked back at her. The image started to shake then, as Uolix recalled her laughter.
”You and I get along fine, don’t we? You’d think by now they would cut the angry couple act and just get together, huh?”
Javic cocked her head and remained silent for a moment. ”Sh-shouldn’t we uh… clean up the mess?”
Abruptly, the orb fizzled away. Uolix moved her claws apart and gripped her head. She couldn’t keep this up. Just as she remembered the good times she had with the others on the Desolus, she recalled the bad. She remembered the trips to the fringe worlds grand and decrepit. The worst memories were the ones where the ship landed on a world in a contested zone; the whole planet would be bombed out, the settlements nothing short of bunkers underground in citadels guarded by huge surface guns. The surrounding area around the walls were blackened and charred, but as long as those walls remained and those guns kept firing, the world wasn’t completely dead. As long as transport ships continued delivering desperately needed supplies, the refugees wouldn’t fall. They would continue to fight because those skeletons in their broken armor covered in dust just beyond the dwindling borders compelled them to.
Uolix had her realization then. “In time, there will be nowhere to hide.”
Uolix raised herself off of her bed, first with her Manipulator arms, then with her hovering ability.
“The only thing we can do now is fight… even though the chances of victory are slim…”
Her voice started to crack, fresh tears started to pool up behind her visor. She started making her way to her workstation.
“We need to fight, because there are others out there right now who are fighting… fighting as they always have and always will.”
She reached the panel, saying, “Because cowardice will doom us all!”
Skillfully, her claws passed over the terminal’s panel. Commands were given in synchronous. The many screens lit up, lines of information running across them. The lights in the commander’s quarters brightened until the silver lines on the walls disappeared.
“Harmony operatives,” Uolix’s voice echoed across the G.S.O, “after much consideration as to our next course of action, I have come to the decision that we need to rally our forces. We cannot continue to lie in wait while the situation worsens elsewhere!”
“What are your orders?” an analyst manned at the super projector asked.
”I’ve ruined the galaxy’s greatest defense force ever assembled,” she thought. ”Why don’t you doubt me? Why don’t you question me?”
“… Send an encrypted transmission to the other outposts and strongholds. We are sending a call for help as much as we are crying out for war. What remains of our ranks need to be prepared for this gamble.”
“It will be done,” said another analyst.
The next few hours were paramount in organizing the galactic resistance. The data stream was broadcasted into space with the Harmony code strengthened to ensure there would be no leak of information. No intercepting forces were to know what was yet to come.
It was slow work getting the word out. The first receiving Peace Corp stronghold had to decrypt the message, analyze it and then encrypt it again in order to pass it on to the next receiving body. Such was the scale of this undertaking that it became the priority communication between the Harmony remnants. The super projector went blank for this time, for the first time since its creation.
Like a well-oiled machine, the Harmony occupations passed the message amongst their selves, and then sent their acknowledgments to the G.S.O. Hours had passed by time every single capable stronghold had gotten the call of duty and returned their acceptance.
But what brilliance is born out of adversity, for a countdown was part of the transmission. Each time it was received, it was reset and calibrated so that by the time it reached the end of this long chain of communication, it reached zero.
And so, came Zero Hour.
All across the galaxy, the relocated bases began broadcasting as one. Their message was simple.
“Together we stand. Divided we fall. All capable Harmony forces assemble.”
***
Alikir was almost asleep on his feet. He was holding onto the projector unit to support himself, his head dipping down on his shoulders. His eyes were closed when the chiming over the ship’s comms went off. His eyes flew open and he shot back to attention. Elysia was gone and the bridge had a flurry of activity going on.
Alikir looked at the star map and saw that several points of light had appeared all across the galaxy. Origins of Harmony signals, some of them were being sent out from places bases where bases were never established!
“Oh you clever bastards!” Alikir said to himself.
“Captain Ruchov, we have confirmation that Commander Uolix has issued the order for a decisive stand. She expects immediate hostile reaction to this,” one of the communication officers said to the intricately armored Ghanax. “We should report to the closest stronghold to this system.”
The Ghanax sat up in its seat, hitting its gauntlets against the armrests and chuckling. “Good! Good! I was beginning to get rusty!” it said, revealing itself to be a male with an especially scratchy voice, evident of old age. “Where is the closest Harmony stronghold, then!?”
Alikir was quick to refer to the map, reading the display. The answer to the captain’s question came at his great surprise. “The… the Galactic Situation Observatory; six parsecs away,” he replied. “Isn’t that where the Commander is stationed?”
“Ah, fate,” the captain said, humored. “Life is the greatest comedy ever devised by minds mortal or divine! Now get your behinds in gear! We have work to do!”
All throughout the convoy, scrambling crews returned to their ships. Spell-cores were being primed for interstellar warp, weapons were being primed, and shields were being charged.
Phineas stared at this star map through narrowed eyes. He rallied this ragtag group, intending to turn them into a fighting force all their own in order to strike back at the deathless tide. Now the call to battle was sent out throughout the galaxy? Every scattered force was going to come together as one and make their stand? Was finding allies going to be that easy?
“Something isn’t right here…” the stallion said to himself warily. The image of the Iopteryx flashed before his eyes then. It was there when he was reawakened. He feared this was another one of its plans coming to a head. It infuriated him, thinking that any fortune in this depressing future could be the sign of evil’s strings being tugged ever so gently to bring about an end. But he couldn’t just dismiss this. No –it was impossible for him to dismiss it.
”Even if this is just part of some plan, I’ll make sure it’ll work out for the better. I stopped that hybrid bastard from carrying out their plans, and I’ll stop the undead from doing the same!”
The doors parted. Uolix entered the super projector chamber through them. They slid shut behind her as she floated over to the platform railing, where she looked down at the current display. Instead of the broken galaxy suspended over it, the projector was showing a map of the G.S.O’s refuge in space.
The station was in a polar orbit around a molten planet, its black and gray surface lined with reddish-orange rivers and streams. Its crust was bent and warped into craggy peaks. Volcanos constantly bled lava, sheets of melted rock erupted from fissures and clouds of smoke and gas wafted up into the proto-atmosphere.
Neighboring the station was the planet’s moons, if one could call them that. Hundreds if not thousands of space rock were held in the heavens by the newly birthed world’s gravity well, hurtling around it at immense speeds with every passing second, big and small.
The surrounding space throughout the system was bright and colorful. Wisps of golden gasses mixed with purples and greens surrounded the white point millions of miles away: a star formed in this celestial cradle. Against this cosmic backdrop, other developing worlds were nothing but tiny specks, in spite of them being as big if not bigger than the world the station was flying over.
But the holographic map represented every celestial body in the system, every giant, dwarf and passing object. This was Zero Hour. Across the galaxy, the other strongholds were experiencing the same anticipation. It would not be long until the system was flooded with an incoming tide of ships, hostile and friendly. The only question that was left unanswered was which of them would arrive first; those who had visions of destruction and terror, or those who wished to ward their heartless foes?
The station’s defenses were always active. Turrets scanned the heavens. Missile racks and silos were stocked. Batteries were powered and guns were loaded. If there was ever a time to be attacked, it was now. The galaxy was drawing its line and standing by it. Whether or not it was pushed back into the shadows of oppression and fear depended on every single bravehearted soul that responded to the call of the Harmony.
Uolix made her way over to a lift at the end of the platform. She ran the end of a Manipulator over the U-shaped control panel and waited for the elevator to reach the bottom of the observation chamber. The machinery was near silent save for a faint whirring noise and the chamber’s bright lights shone across the curved pane of glass that she looked out of. The array of computers neared and an inner trepidation grew in her. The Commander knew there was no place for such things to distract her, but she could not shake the feeling in its entirety. At best, she could only press on without paying the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her being any mind.
The lift stopped at the bottom and the railings split apart on either side of it. The Commander got off of the elevator and started approaching the super projector, flanked by the aisles of terminals of which only a small fraction was being used. The operators looked up from their screens and greeted her warmly.
“We were beginning to wonder when you’d be ready with new orders! It was getting stale, looking at the same data streams over and over again!”
Uolix came to a stop at her usual place before the mammoth machine, looking up at its displayed images, mulling this unexpected reception over. How could they be in such good spirits? This bold move was more than likely going to get them killed, if The Fall was anything to go by. As if reading her thoughts, one of the analysts spoke up.
“Commander… for the sake of the remaining personnel on the Situation Observatory, I think it is imperative that we share some words…”
“It has been a week now,” another analyst offered, standing up at their station and looking out over the collection of consoles. “You did not know the nature of the enemy then, so you did not know just how badly we would suffer in the event of failure. Now you do. We all do.”
Uolix turned around slowly to face the operatives, going out of her way to keep her head raised, to face them. The Shu’badi steeled her nerves and made sure her voice did not waver and crack. “I bear the regret of that day still, but it is not the cause of my unease on this fleeting eve. It is the possibility that my leadership is flawed, and more will die fighting under my orders. Has my failure not soured your loyalty?”
“Perhaps if this was another time it would have,” one of the analysts replied, “ but as it stands though… we don’t have the liberties necessary to start going against our superior officers. What with certain death hanging out in outer space and all...”
“And you don’t have the luxury of second guessing yourself,” said another. “We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t intend to give it our all to take back what was lost. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t believe we could.”
“So with all due respect, Commander, pull yourself together and lead us to victory; we’re all here eager to follow.”
Uolix was touched. Of the original station crew, those who remained on the G.S.O possessed such spirit. It did not occur to her that if she had fallen out of their favor, they would have abandoned the cause a long time ago. “They deserve a promotion,” she thought. ”But what would I promote them t-“
Alarms started to blare. Red lights flashed. The main lighting system dimmed down and an orange glow overtook the chamber as the station began shutting down excess systems in bulk in an effort to delay detection by enemy forces. Uolix turned around to face the super projector. The sinking feeling returned as she took in the information the hologram conveyed.
The question was answered. The deathless tide was the one to arrive first. A whole fleet that would have outnumbered any outpost force before The Fall. There were no readings telling of an interstellar jump. Ships just began to appear, small signatures streaming into the system from the outer edges of it before the larger ones started to be detected. The hulking constructs lumbered behind the first wave that was flying like a plague of locusts towards the G.S.O.
“Battlestations!” Uolix ordered. The G.S.O had to hold out for reinforcements, wherever they may be.
The operatives typed in their commands on their keys and rearranged blocks of information inside holographic interfaces. Elsewhere in the station, officers jogged to their places in an organized chaos, like ants in a colony.
Black wings unfurled, the necrolier onslaught closed in on the sprawling complex. With them were squadrons of converted Harmony battleships and combat mechs. The guns mounted on the G.S.O’s exterior swung around. Missile apertures opened. Electricity and magical energies crackled in between prongs of metal.
“Secure a ten kilometer perimeter around our position. Fire at will!”
The G.S.O’s light weaponry was the first thing to go live. The guns in their housing pointed into the black cluster of metallic carapace and unleashed a torrent of scalding energy that flew like comets with flaring tails behind the shots. Reds, greens, yellows and purples were soaring off into the thicket of enemy craft. Gaseous residue spread around the mouth of the gun barrels, forming in such concentration that the station was gradually being engulfed in the cloud.
The necroliers hit started to ablate away, glowing with lingering magic that ate away at their hulls as they flew. The others returned fire, their occult pilots drawing strength from the nether regions of the universe. In addition to balls of energy and lances of lightning, the black ships materialized limbs comprised of a deep red essence, black bolts of electricity running through them. These limbs linked together in between the horde-craft moving in formation, amplifying the dark sorcery until entire bodies of magic started to appear.
All of a sudden, interspersed in the undead swarm were these red and black creatures that defied convention and description. Simultaneously solid yet formless, these machinations of bands of magic advanced, defying reality by screeching in the absolute silence of the void.
“They’re past the ten kilometer point!” one of the analysts reported.
“Do not let them get any closer!” Uolix barked in response, her eyes locked on the super projector.
Mech units flew evasively through the necrolier horde, rolling out of the path of fire and corkscrewing around the entropic rounds the station pelted them with. Horde-craft fell victim to the rampant firing but the mechs approached with much more finesse. Their exterior thruster altered their attitudes constantly, allowing them to pull off such maneuvers despite their great size and without sacrificing their vector speeds.
One especially bulky mech leveled out, flying upside down relative to the station. It was covered in dark green and yellow armor, sporting a giant “shoulder” mounted cannon and six legs with multiple thrusters mounted on them. The legs tucked up into the unit’s central mass and the cannon, lined with shining beams of viridian light, started to form a bubble of volatile energy at the end of its length.
“Moon Smasher class units preparing for attack!”
“Use the Vindicator Volley!” Uolix ordered.
“Affirmative!”
From the silos and apertures, huge rockets took flight. Chrome and blue in color, the rockets had a booster that burned bright and white. Mounted onto the missiles were laser turrets which opened fire immediately upon launch. Blinding beams of light exploded against the hulls of enemy ships as the Vindicators sought out sufficiently packed groups of them.
Huge bubbles of expanding energy rippled through the necrolier formations as the missiles went off, pinkish magic washing over the horde and tossing ships around like a tidal wave.
Boring through the aftermath of the Vindicators, the higher class deathless ships continued unaffected, the mist left hanging in the vacuum parting around their mass. Dark gray spires protruded from their hulls like spines, necrotic energy running along their lengths. Approaching alongside were the crimson demons, writhing and thirsty for the souls waiting to be reaped.
“Calibrate the aim of the main cannons and fire on my mark!” said Uolix as she eyed the image of the oncoming ships, trying to determine which of them needed to be disabled first.
She tried identifying any signs of any especially worrying weaponry, but with all the spires sticking out from the ships she couldn’t properly identify anything. Sensors and scans were rendered moot by the very nature of the deathless ships, which ran on sorcery more than anything else. The extent of their capability was only limited by the mages aboard!
“Spread out the assault and hope for collateral damages! Fire!”
Artillery guns slid back into their housing following the guide rails that kept them aimed on their targets. Black smoke billowed out of their ports and vents, rolling across the G.S.O’s exterior hull as if a warhead had been launched.
The armored slugs erupted out of the multicolored cloud of vapor, spinning, leaving contrails and pulling some of the smoke with them. Raised plates served as drill bits meant to pierce armored targets, post-launch boosters served to drive the ammunitions deep into them.
Necroliers were flattened against the broad heads of the slugs without slowing them down at all, the hulls torn to floating bits in the aftermath. The giant rounds smashed into the ships they were designed to neutralize, ejecting huge chunks of the structure upon collision. Sparks flew and hull plating caved in, glowing with superhot intensity. Fires burst from the interiors of the space titans, violent explosions from breaks and fissures that mirrored those that occurred frequently down on the newborn planet.
Spires fell apart, their energies released into the void, causing surrounding ships to fail catastrophically. The buckling ships were then pulled apart by the explosions, huge sections of them drifting off gripped with sheets of flame.
“We can’t keep them back! There’s too many of them!” someone shouted.
Uolix watched with a mounting feeling of inevitability as the red closed in on the G.S.O. No matter how many ships they destroyed, more were flying into take their place, occupying the firing lines while leaving other areas open to attack. The station’s defensive structure was good, but far from impervious. Against these enemies, the fight was as good as over.
Uolix knew that the others were well aware of this. Yet they did not panic, nor did they leave their posts. They were going to ride this out until the bitter end. She couldn’t help the tears that flowed from her eyes. Tears of immense happiness and pride in addition to sadness; the galaxy could have been so much more than what it was.
She saw the effects of the first tremors as the undead assault started making headway. The projector’s image fizzled and distorted with each explosion against the G.S.O’s walls. The orange glow of the auxiliary lights turned to blackness more than once in the span of a few minutes, worryingly enough. Sparks started to jump from various monitors and terminals.
Uolix never took her gaze off of the super projector’s image, however. Even as it wavered, she stared into it, watching the battle play out as it did. Because of this, she saw when they appeared. The allied forces had arrived.
The prismatic wave of light left by the warping ships rippled around the nebula as the wayward fleets converged as one, having merged on their way to battle. In the time it took to organize themselves, the battle was well underway and being lost, as it so appeared.
“We need a defensive line to secure the G.S.O!”
“Leave it us! Second Winds, let’s get a move on!”
White triangular ships with swept wings loaded with all manner of guns and cannons turned their noses toward the station, destroyer class ships that dwarfed the cruiser sized game laying siege of the station.
“We’ll busy ourselves with the red ones then!” said the blue-armored Ghanax captain. He held out a gauntleted hand, a finger extended. Moving across his plane of view, the demons were marked by red circular reticles. “Send them back to the hell whence they came; fire at will! Fighter squadrons take out their allies! ”
“Copy that,” Phineas thought. The wings of the Federation shuttle were tip to tip with a multitude of Harmony fighters flying in wedge formation behind the formation leader. He surveyed the battle from his cockpit. His shuttle honed in on one particular enemy ship, orange bars enclosing the distant craft in a square and a magnified image of it appearing thereafter. The stallion narrowed his eyes at what he saw. Tzorvar Prime. Tsubar.
“You heard him! Spread out, watch each other’s tail and blow things up!” Elysia messaged the rest of the formation. Her ship was a compact, almost spherical fighter with two large side mounted engines and a raised canopy cockpit. Its guns were not connected to the ship, but free moving and bound to the ship by cables of energy that constantly danced around.
Elysia glanced over her shoulder at Alikir, who was fulfilling the role of gunner. He was lying in a holo-pod with his hands holding the grips of the yokes and his fingers gently pressing down on the inset triggers. The aiming mechanism looked more like arm braces with a circular cavities providing space for hand movement, in this case that being the pulling of the firing units. A holographic map of the system was suspended in front of him, light blue concentric rings indicating astronomical distance from the battle-pod with the ship being at the center and enemy vessels indicated by red symbols pertaining to various classes of craft.
“How’re you holding up, Space Ranger?”
“Peachy! Beats standing in front of a navigation unit for hours on end!” Alikir replied.
Elysia rolled her head from side to side and flexed her shoulders. As casual as her banter might come off as, she knew full well the danger she and the others were heading into.
The guns of the Galactic Situation Observatory maintained their coverage as all hell broke out around the station. Black blurs shot by, traveling in all directions like a swarm of wasps converging on a victim. Light armaments tracked the movement of a few at a time, blasting away at them only to be destroyed by the decisive firing of other necroliers attacking at greater ranges. Arcane lightning tore through space and struck the station’s defenses, blowing them apart one by one. The fires and smoke were starting to become prominent through the multicolored haze that drifted about the complex.
Uolix’s face was contorted underneath her visor as she watched the shifting force in the super projector’s display. One of her mechanical claws was clenched tightly as the station rocked all around her, sparks raining down from the ceilings and walls.
“Station defenses are dropping all across the board!” one of the officers behind her yelled out.
Uolix spun about, her clenched set of claws held at about cheek level. “Change turret parameters,” she said with great weight to her command. “Defend our heavy artillery at all costs. We cannot hope to lose those, lest we lose a vital tactical asset.”
A violent quake tossed those sitting at their computers about. Amidst the groans, one of them replied, “But we’re getting pounded!”
“It does not matter. We can only have faith in our comrades out there that they will drive back the assault. My concern is making sure we have enough assets left to assist them when they do,” said Uolix before she turned back to face the hologram.
“Please, I have not been your leader for long, and in many ways this crisis has been my trial of character… resolve… of hope. You have stayed with me when I sank to my lowest and for that I thank you all. But I need you to remain with me now that I am strong.”
Another tremor. More sparks, golden and blue, showered the floor of the observation chamber. They ran along the floor, crackling, popping. “You heard the commander,” an officer said, “debating isn’t an option right now.”
An officer inputting the order muttered to their self: “We rise or fall by the words of our leader… oh how I wish there was more to this than just heeding every order she feels like spouting out!”
The station’s thick hull plating was being eroded away by malefic energy beams and orbs, the collisions stripping away the layers that were meant to withstand enemy bombardment and the void of space. The white exterior was blackening at the edges of huge glowing swaths where the necroliers focused their assault, pummeling the station mercilessly. The remaining light defenses shrunk their firing plane, overlapping their field of coverage to maximize their effectiveness as they protected the large class weaponry currently offline. Numerous guns fired on the necroliers as they made their passes, disabling a few and causing collateral damage whenever the deathless ships collided. The loss the enemy was sustaining was a paltry amount when the huge scope of the undead’s forces was taken into consideration however. But should fortune smile upon them, the Second Winds would change that.
“We’re in the thick of it now!” The lead ship messaged to the rest under its command.
Numbering fifteen in all, the white ships broke formation as they closed in on the G.S.O, fanning out. Their wing mounted weaponry went live, quick firing ballistics based turrets churning out rounds of shells into the swarm, which exploded into superheated flak. The guns sank down into their ports after spewing the deadly shells at insane velocities into the horde of deathless ships, diagonal slits at the rear of the guns venting smoke, vapor and heat into space in the wake of the triangular ships. Automation inside the gun housings loaded up the next shell during this time. A large door in the side of the chamber would open with the sliding of the entire barrel and mechanical arms would then guide the waiting round into place, already primed to fire.
Numerous necroliers were perforated by single flak clusters. When fired in tandem, the Second Winds’ cannons were the bane of the assault force hounding the G.S.O. They operated like a pack of orcas, a few Second Winds ships flying around the perimeter of the undead siege and shredding the ships that had the great misfortune of being in the way of their flak cannons. In response, the necroliers herded together, flying in a massive spherical formation, densely packed. The Second Wind vessels disengaged as they were treated to the overwhelming storm of necrotic energy that was focused on them from the bulk of ships, beams of sickly green energy scoring burning hits against their hulls. As they banked away, the rest of the defense force came from above and below. They started firing when they were still hundreds of meters away from the cluster of deathless ships before swerving about. Their rounds sailed into the herded enemy ships, the slag ripping apart the black ships.
The top and bottom attack team passed each other in flight, effectively switching places. The diving ships doubled back while the rising ones reoriented themselves so that their guns were pointing down. Once again the storm of flak was bearing down on the horde, only this time those that were forced away initially were coming back, firing at all angles.
Bolts of necrotic magics shot out of the writhing black ball. Scorching lightning branched out to meet the incoming Second Winds. Orbs smashed into their shields, dispersing across the barrier of energy that materialized around the triangular destroyers. After unleashing another spray of flak and thinning the numbers of the black ships ever more, the hunters turned away to reposition their selves for another pass.
The glowing horns mounted onto the hulls of the deathless horde extended their corrosive grip to six of the fifteen ships, securing a hold on them. As the others were carried away by their powerful thrusters, the stricken six were immobilized in fields of energy, green auras running across their exteriors. Electricity danced around them as they started to bend and break, the hulls denting and deforming.
“Looks like this is the end,” one of the ships messaged the others of the pack. The nine ships were descending from above, flying straight as arrows. “These winds die out here!”
“Don’t say that! We’re coming back in! We can finish-“
“You can’t hope to destroy them all in one more sweep. Disengage, we’ve overloaded the cores and are planning on taking the rest out with us!”
“What the hell have you done!?”
“I just told you all! Break attack and put some distance in between us!”
With no choice but to comply, the nine remaining ships banked and pitched away. They flew off in all varied directions, yet the light of the ensuing blast reached them all at the same time, casting their ships into shadow momentarily. A halo appeared around the captured ships for a fraction of an instant before the pink and white energies ravaged the necroliers, obliterating the black metal cloud in an instant.
“It was a damn good honor flying with you magnificent bastards…”
A massive chunk of the enemy force suddenly disappeared from the projection. The spread of red in the hologram projection shrunk considerably. The disappearance of six blue icons informed Uolix that the blow to the enemy hadn’t come without cost. ”May Ghu’arat have mercy on their souls, for they never knew such grace in life.”
***
“Foul, be you beast or phantom!” the elder Ghanax growled as the ship moved up to a crimson demon. The magical giant shone with an ominous blood colored radiance. A cocoon of interwoven bands of white lightning was in the center of its “chest” area. Within the electrical cage, the necroliers which anchored the demon’s presence on the mortal plane were contained. This was the same for all of the magical specters. The red bodies all had the white cages within them, the closest things to hearts they could possibly have by any mortal’s measure.
“Captain Kazach,” he heard someone say over his comm-link, “how do you plan to slay these monsters? Do you even have a plan?”
“It is obvious that their weakness lies inside them. Those ships which they guard with their corrupted magic!” said Kazach. He sat back in his seat and folded his hands, staring at the miasma of scarlet on his main view screen.
“How are we to attack them? I am being told by my sensor technicians that those… creatures… are comprised of the same energy that we would use to power our shields. Our directed energy weapons will simply splinter against such a defense, and even our most powerful ballistic weaponry will have their rounds dissolved away!”
Kazach hummed thoughtfully. A few fighters shot across his plane of vision, leaving trails of light behind them, which were then veiled by black ethereal wings as the necroliers which chased them came into view. From above, golden rays came down like divine swords, smiting the deathless ship that was struck by them. As it shot off burning into the void, the white and black shuttle dove down and began to arc back up, banking into a turn as it did in pursuit of the rest of the necroliers.
The demon watched the small ships dance around it and its writhing skin flared up. Plumes of red fire extended from its scarlet form, twisting and swirling around into vaguely defined limbs made entirely of the burning magics. It let out a blood curdling howl, and the other conjured demons followed suit, issuing their own unnatural bellows.
The demons held out their “limbs”. At the ends of them, points of bright light appeared which then turned into roaring fire in the form of spinning rings. Whips of fire lashed out at the surrounding ships, the agile fighters deftly dodging them only to fall prey still to the sickle-shaped blades of energy that the demons threw, slicing the fighters apart haphazardly.
“Captain Kazach, your orders, please!”
A static charged crackle sounded over the captain’s communication systems and the voice of the Federation pony reached his ears afterwards. “If we can’t shoot them down with regular weaponry, then should we try Spell-core disruptors?
“But the enemy ships do not use Spell-cores! Their energy signatures suggest a completely different means of sustaining themselves that is neither Spell-core nor Hex-core!”
Kazach responded, “As true as that may be, perhaps the pony is on to something. While disruptor blasts will most likely not affect the ships, they might be able to weaken the astral constructs around them.” The elderly captain paused again, resting his chin on his gauntleted fist in contemplation.
“Captain we are losing our pilots-!”
“Enough!” the Ghanax barked. “I want every wing mounted with disruptor weaponry to concentrate fire on the demons. Even the fighters, any fighter with disruptor capability should reorganize formation and redouble efforts to counter the red ones!” said the Ghanax captain.
“Those of you that don’t have disruptors mounted, keep calm. The Second Winds are here to provide support,” said the fleet leader. Four of the destroyer starships were flying side by side toward the fight while the last two stayed behind at the G.S.O to hold the liberated area.
“You heard Kazach,” Elysia said over her comms. “Able wings fall in on my command!” She heard Alikir chuckle softly behind her. “What’s so funny back there, might I ask?” she said as she guided her ship around, her hands cupped around a holo-orb. Where her finger tips touched the orb, there were solid white circles, which she rearranged to give commands to the craft.
“Just thinking back to what Phineas said before. If I hadn’t seen you in person, I probably would have imagined you to look a lot different than what you actually do,” Alikir replied.
“I’ll take that a compliment, Space Ranger.”
“By all means, please do. But I needn’t remind you of the more pressing matter at hand, Elysia.”
“Right you are. Just like I needn’t remind you to get back to tending those guns! Switch over to disruptor setting and ready yourself!” Elysia ordered.
“Roger that, captain” Alikir responded sarcastically as he fiddled around with a holographic interface. “Firing mode switched over.”
“Alright, all! Let’s make this a clean sweep!” Elysia said across the communication channel.
The battle-sphere listed over to one side as it flew past one of the burning behemoths, its head morphing, “peeling” apart to form a gaping molten mouth with blazing teeth. Alikir’s sights lined up with the monster and his fingers pressed down on the triggers. The free range guns started peppering the demon with yellow-green blasts, the muzzles of the weapons bright with collected energy.
Literally thousands of blasts smashed into the crimson demons, the squadrons of other fighters weaving in and out through the sickles they sent flying with each swing of their transient extremities while pivoting around in flight to bombard them. The demons reeled and roared, their bodies distorting with each impact, the sallow energies following currents within the scarlet specters. Like a poison, the disruptive powers destabilized the monsters from the inside out and their writhing, pained groans reflected this. The red devils visibly convulsed, puffs of flame shooting off of their forms, limbs grasping at their “faces”.
“Their champions of terror have been bested!” Kazach announced, a fist hoisted above his head. The others on the bridge of his ship made a short cheer, cautious as to taking their apparent victory for granted.
“What are you lot yelling about!?” the elder Ghanax snapped, leaning off to one side and looking back at his bridge crew. “It isn’t done until something explodes in spectacular fashion! Now get our guns ready!”
There was a rapid spouting of “Affirmative”, “Yes sir” and “Of course sir!” as Kazach’s crew typed away at their consoles.
The defense force’ ships surrounded the demons suspended in infinity with their guns pointed right at their caged hearts. Their weapons were locked and primed to fire. Fighters running interference chased off clusters of necroliers attempting to intervene, pelting them with condensed energy spheres and leaving them to the mercy of the Second Wind ships that dispatched them with their flak cannons. The rest of the fighters broke attack formation and spread out.
“FIRE!”
As one, directed energy beams bore into the demons. They roared and screeched in pain as the prismatic attacks ate away at their being, sparks and explosions dotting their ethereal hides. Weakened by the sallow venom that ran with the flowing electricity, the barriers the monsters maintained failed under the brunt of the attacks focused on them. The rings of fire spread out as a wave; dying out the farther away they went from the red creatures. Their crimson bodies solidified into a glass-like substance, their internal energies vanishing and leaving only cloudy gems in their place that were anguished effigies of the demonic entities. White-hot streaks marked the firing of railguns and the dark red glass shattered into several small pieces, which in turn dissolved into silvery specks of light.
***
“I wonder if that was a ‘spectacular’ enough explosion for you, Kazach,” Phineas murmured to himself. The shuttle passed over the collection of ships, upside down. The pony in the cockpit held his head upwards to peer down at the ships, a bitter relief washing over him. The day seemed to have been won… in spite of the loss of life. As far as he could see there were ruined ships, from the smallest necrolier to the most gargantuan wrecks that now lay in pieces. He could only hope that the resistance elsewhere knew such good fortune.
“Wait a minute… where’s Tsub-“
A blinding white light flooded the cockpit. Phineas’ helmet barely adjusted to the sudden shift in time. Had it not, his eyes surely would have been scorched away right in their sockets. He rolled his ship right side up and scoured his view screen for the mech. A moment or two later, his shuttle located the unit and pinned it down with a holographic marker on the stallion’s display.
The giant unit loomed overhead, its head angled down to admire the destruction it had wreaked in one fell swoop. The defense force, collected together, was all too easy a target for the unit. Its chest mounted weapon radiated rippling heat still, the crescent cannon gradually cooling down from a harsh white back to red.
All caught in the super weapon’s way were instantly incinerated, leaving nothing but rapidly cooling slag to show for their existence.
And thus, all who remained trembled underneath the gaze of the machine-god.
The ruthless enemy left no time for mourning. From the broken corpses of the deathless tide’s destroyed vessels, the battle mechs reappeared on blazing jets. Ambushing their disordered prey when their ranks were most broken and vulnerable, their guns deployed with shifting plates and glowing barrels.
“Evasive maneuvers!” Elysia shouted to her allied ships across the comm-link. Her voice was distorted by the lingering radiation that the super beam left in its passing. She dragged her fingertips across the ball of light in her hands, causing the battle-sphere to roll over to one side and swerve around the glowing wrecks that littered the surrounding area.
What was left of the fighter squadrons scattered, flying irregular courses and erratically jinking about in a gambit to dodge incoming fire. The larger ships in the defense force were much more sluggish to react. Many of them drifted in space, disabled by their mere proximity to the beam without even being hit by it. Their windows were dark and the lights flickered occasionally, thruster exhaust ports cooling off.
On the G.S.O, all in the observation chamber were stunned as to how quickly the tide of war had shifted against their favor. “W-was this w-what they wanted from the beginning?” one of the officers asked with a fearful tremble to their voice.
“It would seem like so, unfortunately for us all…” another replied. The officer dropped its gaze and put a hand to the pendant around its neck.
“Worry only when we have nothing left to fight with, friends,” said Uolix; though none could see her face, her eyes underneath the screen of her helmet narrowed in an expression of hardened resolve. “Take our remaining turrets offline and redirect the power to alternate weapon systems. Calibrate aiming systems and focus our artillery on Tzorvar Prime. The time has come for those in distress to aid in their salvation.”
The officers complied and issued the order to their machines. The Commander bowed her head.
”You will not serve them any longer, Tsubar. It is the only good I can promise you now.”
Far past the station’s walls, the units were on the hunt, guns hot as they trailed the Harmony’s fighters. Pilots conversed while dodging the unrelenting assault.
“Anti-armor on my six!”
“Getting boxed in on my end!”
“We can’t let them pick us off like this!”
Elysia growled, wracking her brain for a counterattack that wouldn’t mean losing even more ships. Her view screen was full of floating debris and beams shooting off from a myriad of directions. She had to get some kind of order in this rampant chaos!
“Sounds like you’re getting a bit heated over there!” Alikir called out while simultaneously pelting a pursuing mech with magical blasts. The arrowheaded unit rolled from side to side, the stream of magic narrowly flying past its battle scarred gray armor. Several strips of plating flipped up on its back and its guns slid forward. They returned fire, alternating in between their selves.
Elysia pulled the battle-sphere into an abrupt banking dive. “It’s a tad bit difficult to not get heated when you’re in my position!”
“I don’t doubt it!” Alikir replied, resuming his firefight with the mech when the pod-fighter leveled out. He trailed its descent with the free range guns and the mech in turn continued to hurl heavy hitting shells at the fighter. They streaked past with each skillful swerve and roll Elysia instructed the spaceship to do.
“It’s just that, because of your position, getting heated isn’t a good thing!”
“I know, I know!” Elysia responded. She lurched forward as a loud bang sounded from the ship’s aft, the straps running across her chest and midsection keeping her from slamming into her instrumentation panel. Her holo-displays distorted for a few seconds before righting themselves.
“That didn’t sound good!” Alikir muttered.
Elysia glanced at the monitor flashing red off to her side. “We’ve taken a pretty bad hit! Micro-locks sealed off that part of the ship but another hit like that’s gonna put us down for sure!”
“So let’s get the hell out of the line of fire! I don’t think it’ll have as much luck shooting us if we’re behind it!”
“I concur, Space Ranger! Hang on!”
“What do I have to hang on to? I’m strapped in to a-“
He stopped talking when he was pressed back against his seat by a burst of acceleration, the chaos outside a blur to his eyes as the battle-sphere swung about and arced around the mech. As it shot above the battle unit, the ship flipped over to face it.
“Take your shot, Ranger!”
”As if you need to tell me!” Alikir passed his reticle over the turrets, marking each one of them and then pulled the trigger. Twin streams of energy pulses smashed into the weapons, eating through their housing and setting off rapid chain explosions across the unit’s hull.
“Nice shooting!” Elysia said. The battle-sphere hurried off before the mech could retaliate with any other concealed weapons it might had had on board.
“Not good enough,” Alikir replied grimly. “That thing’s still flying.”
“We can’t afford to occupy ourselves with finishing off every enemy. There are others who might need our help!”
“Yeah, yeah. Not to mention the Big One…”
Tzorvar Prime’s maneuver thrusters pointed retrograde and fired up. The dark brown machine approached a large class disabled vessel with its tendrils spread apart, a magical field gathering inside its red claws. When it was near enough, the claws were stabbed into the ship’s hull, plunging deep into its layered plating. The mech’s head turned, surveying the area for a suitable target. It stopped when it saw another ship of similar size to the disabled craft looming off in the distance surrounded by liquefied metal and the machine’s tendrils started to sway, dragging the hapless ship with them.
Just before it could release the ship and send it on its way to crashing into the other one, four thick energy beams detonated a multitude of explosions against the multi-limbed machine’s back, tossing it aside. Tzorvar Prime’s attitude thrusters angled themselves and burned for a short time, turning the war machine so that it could look at its attacker.
The heat damaged warship was nearing, laser cannons firing one by one, volleys of cyan rays exploding against Tzorvar Prime’s metal body. “Accursed machine!” captain Kazach spat angrily, “let that ship go!”
Tzorvar Prime raised the disabled ship up and held it off to its side before lobbing it nose-first toward the incoming ship. It sailed through the void like a missile, unable to stop itself.
“Dive!” Kazach yelled to his crew.
The front of the warship started dipping downwards as the idle vessel closed in. In the moments to follow, there was a glancing hit near the rear of Kazach’s ship, hull plating denting and being grazed away as the two spacecraft passed each other, the disabled ship listing over to one side afterward.
“Damage report!” the elderly Ghanax demanded. Several holographic planes appeared around him and his skimmed them determinedly. “Results: inconsequential! Keep attacking!”
The warship started leveling out below Tzorvar Prime, the guns turning about to aim at the mech. However, the four armed machine had the first strike, its two railguns going off at the same time. The slugs smashed into the warship at a steep angle, one of them hitting near the center of the ship and splitting it apart. The other struck the engine block, causing the back of the ship to rupture with an inferno of magical energy.
The explosion reflected against the unit’s golden visor. With the pest disposed of, Tzorvar Prime turned its attention to the rest of the Harmony’s forces. It brought its claws together, channeling a huge concentration of magic in between them. Black electricity started to jump off of the machine’s armored shell, sickly green energy beginning to appear within the scarlet sphere it was forming with the Arcane-Manipulators.
It was going to wipe them all away. Every single one of them would simply cease to exist by time it was done with its deadly task. Soon, this system would be forgotten, lifeless and abandoned. The battle that happened in the stellar cradle would be forgotten in the great passage of time. Soon, all who lived would be nothing more than sustenance for the Great Ones-
An explosion went off against the side of the machine’s head, knocking it away. Tzorvar Prime shook, casting the fire and smoke away. The machine looked around almost furiously until it spotted the iridescent purple trail that the Federation shuttle left in its wake. It moved its claws apart; the energy summoned spreading apart until all four Manipulators wielded volatile energies in their claws.
”I saved you before! And now I have to help destroy you!” Phineas was hurtling toward the unit from directly overhead, phaser cannons charging up. He fired the golden beams and to his surprise, the unit reacted swiftly, looking up in the direction of the attack and holding up a limb to create an energy shield. The two phaser beams rebounded off the barrier and Phineas had the shuttle break away to reevaluate his strategy.
A spiraling white beam with black and green electricity running along it erupted from another Manipulator, chasing the shuttle down. With only split-seconds to react, Phineas had the shuttle roll to the side, the beam’s outer edge overtaking the ship’s shielding and clipping its wing.
“By Celestia’s flaming tail!” Phineas yelled, warnings appearing across his monitors. His wing was alight with blue arcane fire, most of its panels blown off completely. The engine on it was only connected by the wing’s bare, heavily damaged framework, quite alarmingly enough. He cut his throttle in the hopes of lessening the probability of the engine snapping off all together in flight and turned the ship around so that it was facing the battle unit again.
Phineas fired his wing mounted laser guns and his phasers in a last ditch effort to do some damage as he went soaring away from his target. The wing mounted guns had the advantage over the phasers in that they traveled at the speed of light so they hit practically instantaneously, whereas the condensed energy orbs had a progressively larger distance to travel with each shot fired.
“Come on, think, Startrot!” Phineas was staring at what was certain doom. The power Tzorvar Prime had at its command could have destroyed ships many times the size of the shuttle in one good hit. In the state the shuttle was in now, simply dodging another attack could have resulted in disaster.
“Hey Phineas, looks like you’ve gotten yourself a bit of a situation over there!” he heard Elysia say over his ship’s communicator.
“Uh, I suppose you can call it that,” Phineas said uneasily, staring through his view screen at the machine in the distance, thoroughly anticipating its next attack.
“Brace yourself, Federation pony. This might be a bit-“
Phineas was forced against his seat suddenly. He grunted, at the corner of his vision he could have seen his ship’s damage report appear: a blueprint display of his ship with the port side engine colored a deep red color to show that it was inoperable. ”It’s inoperable because it fell off!”
“… Jarring.” Elysia finished saying when the shuttle was safely underneath the battle-sphere, held by several purplish grappling beams.
“Ugh… I’ve been on wilder rides,” Phineas replied. “Thanks for the assist, by the way.”
“No problem, you had a bunch of mechs vying to blow you to smithereens and we thought we’d deny them the privilege, right Alikir?”
“Too busy shooting to make small talk!” Phineas heard the ranger exclaim in the background.
“That’s odd; it didn’t stop you before-“ Elysia started to say before Alikir interjected.
“The bunch of mechs that were after the pony are now after us!”
Phineas saw the quick succession of glowing darts sailing past his view from all different directions. His aiming reticle locked on to a mech attacking them from the front and he deployed a missile. The rocket’s engine fired up shortly after it was forced out of the launch apparatus and it veered off to the side, arcing around to home in on the mech, which then fired up its own thrusters and sped away with the warhead adjusting its course to intercept it.
Meanwhile, Alikir put the free range guns to work firing quick bursts at the enemy machines to deter them from getting into proper strike positions. “I don’t suppose we can shake them?” he asked.
“Not with our cargo in two!” Elysia replied.
“Trust me,” Phineas said, “if I had both my thrusters ready, I’d be more than happy to give you a speed boost!”
“We can’t keep this up,” the female ranger said grimly. “They’ve got us outnumbered and they’ve taken out most of our heavy hitters. We can’t bring down the normal mechs, much less the big one with the tentacles!”
Phineas frowned and lowered his gaze but said nothing to contest her point. As much as he wanted to remain hopeful that somehow they could turn this around, even he had to realize they were simply outgunned in this scenario. There was no way to regroup because every individual ship was caught up in its own fight out there, and they were being pummeled without mercy. How many other ships were damaged beyond practical combat capability during this fight? What was the true number of lives lost in this one conflict alone, much less the rest of the galaxy?
“Wait… something’s happening!” Alikir said.
Phineas looked up, puzzled. “What’s up?”
“The station, Phineas,” Alikir replied.
Phineas searched for the complex in the sea of yellow, looking past the islands of wrecked ships. His shuttle’s display confirmed Alikir’s statement: something was going on there. Its weaponry was powering up to higher levels of energy output. The stallion knew what this meant: the station was diverting more power to its defenses!
“… Duh, Startrot. Way to forget about the damned fortress just floating out there!”
Uolix watched as target after target was marked for destruction by the super projector.
“Fire Vindicators!” she ordered.
The giant missiles came out of their launch ports in droves, boring through the film of mist surrounding the station at high speeds and seeking out the mechs. Those in the close vicinity of the station met their end immediately, frayed machinery scattered about by the resulting fireballs.
“Fire directed energy cannons!”
Pulsating beams shot into the midst of the enemy. Mechs that were shooting at the missiles or flying away from them were sliced apart and subsequently exploded. Much of this assault was focused on Tzorvar Prime, however, the machine losing one of its limbs by having it sheared off by the attack.
“Fire artillery!”
The guns slid back into their housing, the enormous rounds flying with rolling clouds of smoke. They punched through Tzorvar Prime’s body, the visor smashed to bits when one went through its head, another through its chest, yet another ripping off a large piece of its side, taking off two more limbs and one final round hitting the Hex-core dead on.
The smoldering cavities flashed with green light, lightning leaping out from them. Cracks spread out from each cavernous wound, glowing bright. Rings of runic symbols wrapped around the unit before being scattered by an abrupt discharge of emerald energies and sparks.
The fight had come to an end. The mighty guns mounted on the warships, though they remained primed for another surprise attack, for now stood down. They floated within the familiar clouds of ruins and wrecks, hulls simmering and scorched. Gaping wounds ran down the lengths of many of the surviving ships.
When all was said and done, the defending party was only slightly better off from what it once was. And that was due to the fact that, despite how small a number it was compared to how many were with them at the start of the battle, there were now more ships than before. The only down side was that most of them were heavily damaged, barely able to continue operating.
Though fate, in spite of its cruelty, had one stroke of kindness to the beaten and battered members of the resistance; they were all in the convenient vicinity of one of the Harmony’s remaining largest and most advanced outpost facilities. With the many destroyed ships now taking up space, resources for repairs were plentiful. With the momentary respite, the proper rites could be performed to say farewell to those who gave their lives in this horrific war.
Rebuilding what little they had left was all they could do now.
“This is Space Ranger Ryagna-Elysia requesting permission to dock on behalf of the Harmony fleet,” the female ranger messaged the G.S.O. The battle-sphere was flying toward the humungous complex, accompanied by the tattered spacecraft ranging from all sizes, each having varying degrees of severity when it came to the damage their ships sustained. More than a few were still burning with arcane flames that refused to die no matter what was done to them, be it the emergency response systems or the desperate crew trying to stave off imminent destruction.
“This is Commander Uolix of the Galactic Situation Observatory. Permission granted,” came Uolix’s voice over her communication uplink. Several hundred meters away from the fleet, the enormous blast doors on the exterior of the G.S.O started to split and fold away. Beyond them, the gigantic ship bay awaited the weary warriors.
The better part of the next few hours were spent docking with the station, entering the waiting docking cages and getting securely clamped into place by the mechanical arms that appeared along the ceiling, walls and floor.
After his shuttle was disengaged from the battle-sphere and was successfully contained in its own port, Phineas stood on one of many walkways arranged in a greater number of tiers and levels. Bright lights shone, casting strange and wayward shadows around the hulking titans surrounding him. Past the other ships, the giant white and blue doors were closed, blending seamlessly into the surrounding structure with strips of light running across them and raised ridges of metal where machinery was built right into them.
It was only when he was outside of his shuttle looking back on it that he got a good view of just how much punishment the old Federation ship endured. Its silvery hull was grayed and black, lines of soot streaking down its length, telling of glancing blows from the malicious blasts that the necrolier horde pelted it with. Its mangled wing was frayed at the edge, its length cut down by a large margin and its internal workings exposed.
Phineas shook his head, deeply saddened by the sight. The shuttle was more than a spaceship to him at this point. Without it, he would have been dead centuries ago. It was much more than just a reminder of his days on Earth as well. The craft was no mere product of Federation ingenuity; it was his home in the cosmos. The stallion did not belong anywhere else in this galaxy but his shuttle, and the shuttle took him wherever he may go.
The silver stallion sighed when he saw the Federation insignia. The red ring enclosing the sun and the moon was almost completely stripped away, as if the symbol was bombarded by an abrasive wind. The colors were duller as a result, lackluster.
“The last Federation pony still living today…” Phineas said to himself before laughing dryly.
With the din of hundreds conversing in the bay and machinery at work, he did not hear the sound of the approaching group until they were right behind him. He looked over his shoulder when he became aware of their presence and saw the four station crewmembers. They were wearing personnel hardsuits which, in addition to the protective armored plating, had all sorts of straps and compartments to hold equipment and other utilities with.
”Engineers,” Phineas thought, ”I guess toolboxes went out of style.”
The group stood to the pony’s sides, two on his left and right. Phineas idly glanced in between them as they inspected the damage. The one right next to his left side spoke with a casual air to their almost musical voice that made determining a gender difficult, “It’s pretty unbelievable that you survived a hit like that. Most ships would’ve just spiraled out of control and exploded.”
“To be fair,” Phineas started to say, “I didn’t lose the thruster immediately. I lost it getting rescued.”
“What a shame,” the one to the stallion’s far right replied. “But I guess this would be a good reason for you to stop flying ancient scrap metal around, huh?”
Phineas narrowed his eyes, but kept his voice level to disguise his irritation. His helmet helped his illusion of impassiveness. “No,” the stallion responded, “It’s a good excuse to make those upgrades I’ve been meaning to get to for the last week or so.”
The pony turned away from the shuttle and started to head down the industrial walkway. He stopped a few paces away and glanced back at the crew. He saw that they were staring after him and he smirked. “Look, I’ve got some business to do with your Commander. While you’re repairing my wing, why don’t you swap out my engines and weapons for things more up to date?”
“Who do you think you are?” one of them inquired with distinct indignation.
“The last Federation pony alive,” Phineas said evenly. They all stiffened up at the simple uttering of the phrase and the armored pony turned his gaze forwards again. With a flick of the end of his tail, he shouted over the ambience of the ship bay, “Please and thank you!”
With that, he continued on down the platform, leaving the busy scene behind him where the crews of the ships and the occupying station crew worked to get the war scarred warships back in working order.
***
“So this is my punishment for being an ass to those guys.”
Phineas held up his PDA for the umpteenth time. The holo-map spread out in front of his eyes, decks upon decks and winding hallways all miniaturized into a model of white light.
“Finding that terminal was too easy. Reading the damned map? That’s the real challenge!”
He looked up from the hologram and checked the thick black inscription on the wall, running it through the translator to find out what exactly it said. Phineas then did a double take, glancing back to the wall and then the hologram as he couldn’t believe that after all the wandering through hallways, doorways, elevators and more hallways; he had reached the central observatory building.
“Finally,” Phineas mumbled to himself. He referred back to the map, attempting to identify the route he should take to reach the observation chamber where the Commander was supposedly on duty. After all the effort spent to get in the same section of the station, there was still quite a ways to go before he would arrive at the chamber’s doors.
“… Not so finally. Damn it.”
Several minutes of walking later, Phineas actually stood before one of many doors on the curved chamber walls. He heard the inner mechanisms turning and twisting out of sight before the door split in two and moved apart. Immediately, a faint glow spilled through the doorway, the light somewhat calming and welcoming. Intrigued, the stallion stepped in. He was greeted by an intricate array of platforms and walkways behind the door, but for all the space the great chamber had, it was awfully deserted and quiet.
Phineas trotted over to the railing at the edge of the platform and swung his forelegs up onto the topmost bar, resting them as he took in the sights below. It was an impressive room, with the super projector and the giant hologram being the crown jewel, but he could tell just by looking this place was supposed to be busier. There were rows upon rows of computers at the bottom of the chamber with no one using them.
“It’s a wonder how this place is still running, with so little staff…” Phineas commented. It was about then that he noticed one of the officers below gesticulating at him. It was tiny compared to the machine that was behind it and the distance between it and the stallion didn’t help things much at all. The most he could have guessed from it was that he was wanted down there for whatever reason. Phineas backed away from the railing and looked for a way down, spotting yet another elevator unit. He had gotten well acquainted with them trying to find this place and this latest encounter came much too soon after his last.
The silver stallion stepped inside and started pressing keys on the control panel. Then he waited as the lift descended slowly, its motors whirring away. When he reached the bottom, he stepped through the little gate that the split in the railing made. “It’s times like now that I really appreciate the jetpack,” he mused as he started walking toward the gigantic holo-unit.
As he drew closer, he realized just who it was that was waving to him earlier. Her exo-suit did not look any different since he last saw her, but there she was, Commander of the Harmony. Phineas made his way through the aisles of terminals, past the few operators at work and came to a halt directly in front of Uolix. He wanted to say something witty and charming.
”Funny how the cook on a rusty freighter ended up being the leader of the largest organization in the galaxy!” he thought, but couldn’t bring himself to say. He could only think about the last time he was in the same place with the Shu’badi, and it left him with silence. She must have been going through something similar, because Uolix didn’t say anything either. The two simply faced each other, one standing while the other hovered. In some ways, it was an appropriate greeting. In most ways, it was just awkward to behold.
“We were never especially close, you and I,” Phineas said abruptly.
Uolix cocked her head slightly at first, confused. After mulling over his words for a minute or so, she nodded. “We didn’t cross paths until it was time to eat. And even then we didn’t talk much. You stayed with Gaali most of the time, if I remember correctly.”
“I should have tried to get to know you all better while I still had the chance to.” Phineas sat back on his haunches. He put a hoof to the side of his helmet and there was a hiss of air when he disengaged it. He pulled it off of his head, his mane tumbling freely from it and his glistening eyes exposed, his sad expression open to be read.
Uolix lowered her gaze to avoid his eyes. “I wish our meeting was under better terms.”
“With the crisis we’re up against, there isn’t any point to wishing, Uolix,” Phineas replied. He reached out with his free hoof, putting it under the chin of her helm and angling it up so that he could look into her visor. He saw his teary eyes reflected back at him and his expression hardened in seconds.
“We’ve got a war to win and we have to do it fast, because if the battle to defend this station is anything to go by, the galaxy as we know it won’t be around for long.”
“Win this war? Fast?” Uolix replied. “Phineas… you have become something of a legend across the stars… you were instrumental in bringing about the end of the Hoof-Talons… have you let this cloud your judgment? The best hope we have is to band together and hold a defensive against the enemy, then strike back when we are fully capable of doing so!”
Phineas pulled his foreleg back and shook his head. “This isn’t just war for war’s sake. It never was. The Star Terrors aren’t just things that hide in the darkness, watching idly and acting at random. They might not give us the chance to fortify our defense.”
“What do you mean?” Uolix asked, curious as to how much the pony knew about the Star Terrors and their connection to the galactic scourge.
“The destruction of my planet… the Hoof-Talons and now… the undead… it all started with them. They get people to follow them as gods and do their bidding,” Phineas started to explain.
“I don’t know what their plan is. I don’t think I could even understand it even if it was presented right in front of me. But I am certain there’s a leader out there somewhere. We need to find it and kill it to put an end to this war. Then we need to find a way to stop the Star Terrors… I suggest stopping the spread of their influence somehow. If they don’t have followers, they don’t have forces to start these wars of theirs with… and maybe without them they will lose their power… or at the very least be forced to show themselves if they want to do anything concerning the galaxy, so that we can fight them head on.”
“It seems like you are asking to do the impossible, pony,” said Uolix worriedly.
“I probably am,” the silver replied. “But I am Phineas Startrot. I did the impossible once and I can do it again, if it means putting an end to this misery and bloodshed once and for all.”
"How do you know all of this?" Uolix inquired.
"It's a long story... it starts with a distress signal I picked up... more than a month ago..." Phineas answered...
Phineas told the Commander his tale. He told her of the day that started off, in hindsight, incredibly mundane compared to his previous exploits. All the days after the fall of the Hoof-Talon legion had something mundane about them up until that point. There were no battles in space –or rather, there weren’t any full blown wars being fought in space. There were the criminals and the law enforcement that hunted them down. Phineas had his run-ins with the bad apples of the greater majority that ended straddling the line of justice and tragedy in that short… short time. In that time, he was just a wanderer living his life, drifting through space and watching worlds flourish when they were at one point on the verge of collapse. Then he came across the distress signal, beyond the Harmony’s reach back then.
Past that border waited his next great fight, he knew now. His hopes for a life spent living instead of fighting wars were scrawny weeds reaching for the sun blocked by the sprawling, leafy branches that was his drive to act. His fight was eternal: to parry the blade of war, one had to wield the blade themself. He would fight so that others would know peace. It was who he was. And he was damn good at it.
***
Uolix was facing the super projector’s hologram, two of her mechanical limbs tied together behind her. Her other two were wrapped around each other in such a way in front of her that one of them was of a longer length than the other, so that she could rest her chin in the center of her clawed grasper. She was in silent contemplation since Phineas finished recounting his battle with the chimera. The stallion himself had returned his helmet to his head and was sitting behind her, partly waiting for her response and partly doing his own share of thinking. Phineas found the chimera that day by chance when the hybrid was at his most weakest. His empire was cut down, his soldiers tattered and frail. How was he going to find something out in the vast cosmos that was at the height of its power, nigh unmatched? And should he find the leader of the undead… just what exactly would he be facing? The chimera, the first champion of the Star Terrors, almost killed him. Did that mean the second would crush him the moment he stepped hoof into its line of sight?
“Startrot,” said Uolix and the stallion was pulled from his thoughts.
“Commander?”
Uolix turned to face him. Her arms uncoiled and flowed out to her sides. “Your report… worries me.”
Phineas frowned. He guessed as much. The chimera was immensely powerful all on its own, proficient in both physical and magical combat. Not only that, it was unbelievably persistent even after grievous bodily harm. It was the ultimate warrior.
“In fact… it frightens me that such a creature could have existed without any of us knowing about it for hundreds of years.”
“Makes you wonder what else the Polymerization were doing that we don’t know about. Makes you wonder if it’s a good thing we don’t know about them,” Phineas said.
“Mm,” Uolix responded. Phineas could almost feel her gaze through her opaque visor boring into his eyes through his helmet’s optic screens. As she bobbed up and down ever so slightly, she kept her stare constant, her arms moving in a hypnotic rhythm off to her sides. The stallion began feeling uncomfortable in the silence that fell in between them.
“Uolix…?” Phineas asked. She approached him and he tensed up. As she got nearer and nearer he arched his back and raised his head high, seconds away from turning and putting some distance between him and the Shu’badi. Her arms shot out and enclosed him however, the graspers manifesting an energy field to completely block his path.
Phineas heard the shuffling behind him. He turned his head slightly and from his peripheral vision could see the officers standing, many of them having weapons drawn. They were aiming at him. They were treating him like he wasn’t worthy of their trust! They were treating him as an enemy!
“Uolix!” Phineas shouted indignantly. “What the hell!?”
“’Makes you wonder what else the Polymerization were doing we don’t know about’,” the Commander quoted with a sharp edge to her echoey voice. “The fact you are standing before me today leaves me with three unfortunate conclusions, Phineas Startrot.”
“And what might those be!?” the silver stallion responded hotly, almost pressing his helm against her’s.
“The first is that you’re an agent for the enemy painted the shades of an ally through a complex ruse. The chimera may not be dead at all and your absence was just another part of this scheme. The Hoof-Talons were just the beginning phase of the Star Terrors’ greater plans.”
“What kind of-!”
“The second is that you’re involvement with the Star Terrors has manipulated your thoughts and actions. Perhaps you honestly view yourself as an ally to our cause, but everything you say and do perpetuates the Star Terror agenda for the galaxy.”
“That’s unbeli-“
“Lastly… and perhaps most unsettling of all…” Uolix paused, as if to revise just how she was going to say what she was going to say. “Lastly…” She sighed and shook her head. “The most unsettling possibility is that you are what you say you are.”
“… What?” Phineas deadpanned. “How the hell is me being honest the most unsettling possibility? Why the hell are you holding me like some caged animal? Why the hell are your officers pointing their guns at me!? This doesn’t make any sense, Uolix!”
“You are just a regular pony, Phineas!” Uolix replied, her voice rising to match his. “A regular pony from another time! You shouldn’t have been nearly as effective as you were during the Hoof-Talon crisis! Any normal pony… any normal being would have been rendered catatonic by the shock and trauma you have been through!”
“But I’m not a regular pony!” Phineas countered. “I never have and never will be! I am Phineas Startrot damn it! I am-“
“You are the lone pony who stood up against a small army, fought and won” Uolix said grimly. “You are the lone pony who faced what might have been the most powerful… mortal… that we know of… and not only did you live… you beat him.”
Phineas fell silent, beginning to grasp just what it was the Commander was saying.
“If you are what you say you are, Phineas, that means no one else in this entire galaxy could stop you should you choose to do something. You are just a regular pony… yet you are terrifying. The term ‘Federation pony’ is synonymous with a warrior unlike any that the galaxy has known in recent eras. Not even the legendary Captain, leader of the Umpiron resistance, has a record the likes of yours.”
Like a freight train running at full speed, Phineas was slammed with the full implication of his title. How other reacted to it. How others treated him after making it clear who he was. He wasn’t respected. He was feared. He was a loose cannon, a wildcard. A threat by any other name.
“Uolix I… I…” Phineas started to say, but found himself unable to form a sentence. She was right.
“I… doubt you are an enemy in the obvious way. Your unique circumstance with the… Iopteryx, was it? It is an unfortunate result of fate…” Uolix said in a much more level tone. “How could a cosmic power not recognize one such as you? How could it resist toying with one as passionate as yourself?”
Phineas hung his head. He couldn’t say anymore. He just couldn’t.
“You are a hero, Phineas Startrot,” said the Commander, “but I fear that after enduring all that you have… and given your particular skills and aptitude… you are a disaster waiting to happen.”
The energy field dissipated and she retracted her arms. She floated away from the armored pony and motioned to the others in the chamber to lower their weapons. Complying slowly, the officers holstered their guns and warily took their seats at their stations.
“So what will you do now, Startrot?” Uolix asked him in a soothing voice.
He did not reply immediately, but when he did some moments later, he said: “I’m going to wait until my shuttle is suited for flight and combat again. Then I’m going to find this leader. I’m going to put him down. I’ll do it by myself. Too many lives have been lost and I’m not going to risk any more of them.”
“Nothing I can say can stop you, I take it?” she inquired. He shook his head.
He looked straight through her and added, “We’ll figure out what to do with me after the Star Terrors aren’t a threat to the galaxy at large.”
He turned away from her then and started to head back down the aisle of terminals, avoiding the gazes of the perplexed officers that were gawking at him like he was some kind of sideshow. The headstrong Equestrian with a chip on his shoulder, dragging a boulder wherever he went.
“I didn’t dismiss you, Phineas,” Uolix called out to him.
“I’m not a part of the Harmony,” Phineas replied without breaking stride. “You aren’t my superior officer, so I don’t care.”
Uolix visibly drooped at that. She bowed her head and murmured to herself, “I figured you would say that.”
When he came to the elevator, the silver stallion glared and deployed his jets, the plating on his utility pack rearranging for them to slip out and lock into place. The boosters pitched upwards and roared to life, red exhaust streaming out of the rockets and the pony taking flight. When he reached the level he arrived on, he flew over the railing and dropped onto the metallic balcony. From there, his jets stowed themselves and he left the chamber through the same doors he came through.
Uolix spun around to look at the super projector image again. “Good luck, Federation pony. I feel as if you won’t make it without someone believing in you… so I’ll do as much. Do you all approve, friends? I hope you do. I sincerely hope you do…”
No one with her in the observation chamber knew of the tears she was crying.
Elsewhere on the G.S.O, soldiers from all walks of life gathered in meeting halls to recuperate from their harrowing ordeal. The rooms were humungous and sparsely furnished, with numerous levels that the displaced soldiers and civilians-turned-soldiers stood around. At the center of the rooms on each level there was a chrome table that was long and broad, seating hundreds of tired, stressed individuals. There were benches that came out from the walls, running continuously along their length, but little else. Crowds of people simply stood about and there was a constant clamor as they spoke as one, voicing their fears and discussing their uncertain futures. The walls had flat screens mounted on them, but many were blank while those that were still operational were showing the slowly drifting wreckage surrounding the complex.
Alikir was on one of the upper decks inside a meeting hall, he didn’t know the precise location within the space complex himself. He was just following the moving masses as they went and found himself sitting on a bench some time later, alone though he was surrounded by so many, be them seated next to him or standing out in the open space. The sound of them all talking blended together into one overlaying noise in the background, almost melodic to the Space Ranger’s distant mind. He had his arms folded behind his head and his visor retracted, staring off past the groups of people. There was no campfire here, but he was still cast under a golden light by the few screens high up on the walls. And he was far from being complacent with the war consuming the galaxy. Whereas before he was still because his thoughts were calm, pacified by an impending inevitability, now he was stilled because of worries and uncertainty. Now he was obsessing over small details, going over his own skills and capabilities and thinking about what the next battle will bring. It was now that Alikir knew what Phineas meant when the pony said he was agonizing over his decision. For a week, the stallion must have felt this anxiety, weighing both the dire need for action and the horrific consequences that would come about from this action.
This time of reprieve was a torture as he stewed in his own mind, well aware of his own mortality. Alikir stared out into the crowd, knowing that his next fight could very well be his last. Images of his comrades, all proud in their combat armor and holding their guns like they were objects to be cherished, flashed before his eyes. One by one they met their end. These haunting images, distorted by time save for the most visceral of details, were what drove him to give up fighting in the first place. The screams of the fallen troopers resonated in his thoughts, the way their broken bodies were thrown about after receiving the fatal blow. But now they were Alikir’s motivation to carry on, the fuel to feed his soldier spirit. He had to honor their sacrifice, he had to keep fighting! Yet still the selfish fear remained. For all the emphasis on honor the Harmony imparted in its soldiers, he could not help fearing for himself. How could he not, when the enemy had weapons that could destroy whole formations in one strike?
Alikir sat there on the bench, what was visible of his face creased by his uneasiness. He cursed this moment of reprieve, he truly did. In the heat of battle he was precise and professional, almost running on automation programmed by his days as a cadet in training. There was no room to have the thoughts he had now during a fight.
The Space Ranger sat on the bench wishing he was in the thicket of a battle, if only to spare himself his anxiety. He feared his own demise, yet accepted it all the same. He wondered if his departed rangers felt the same way before they died.
”Only those who devote their life to violence know peace. Death is just an excuse to stop fighting, eh guys?” he mused.
***
“I wish I had their pendants…”
Ryagna-Elysia stood at the bottom level of a meeting area in one of many rings formed by grieving refugees. They all stood in assembly around the giant table at the center of the room, watching as the chains were brought forth by somber soldiers from various places in the assembly. The dangling ornaments were placed on the table and in such close proximity and number; the holographic pendants gave off a faint blue glow, the image of the spiraling galaxy within each one a point of light from afar.
And from afar, the arrangement of the pendants formed spiral arms in of themselves, a mural dedicated to all those who gave their lives in the fight for freedom. Perhaps elsewhere in the galaxy, other soldiers were making similar memorials for their lost comrades with the pendants they managed to retrieve. Thus was the toll this war had.
And as great as the number of retrieved pendants was, the fact of the matter was that there were many more that couldn’t have been salvaged. Critically damaged ships exploding made it impossible for anyone to retrieve the pendants their crew wore. Battles fought planetside suffered losses in circumstances that made gathering the pendants dangerous to surviving personnel, such as burning and collapsing buildings and rubble-buried streets. They could only be represented in spirit until they could be given a respectable ceremony: the dispatching of empty coffins into the void of space.
”If their pendants were on that table, at least the rest of these people would know what you all did. You wouldn’t just be ambiguous faces and statistics…”
The small ranger let out a small, near silent sigh as she watched the proceedings happen. Any soldier that stepped up carried a couple to a whole bunch of chains with them, dangling about as they went up to the table. They stayed there for a moment or two, fitting the ornaments into the mural and making their parting sentiments.
”There are hundreds… no… thousands… maybe even millions of others who aren’t able to do this. They probably feel just as bad as I do right about now…”
A few of the soldiers at the table started to make their way back into the assembly. Several more stepped forward to pay their last respects. The melancholy of the chamber was accentuated by the echoing messages that came over the communication equipment brought from a few ships. Messages heralding both great victories elsewhere across the galaxy… and crushing defeats. The latter was disturbingly more common than the former. And the warning of a second wave was a grim cloud hanging on the horizon, roiling and rolling, growing nearer while the pains of loss still ached in the hearts of the resistance.
Hovering over the shuttle, a white ring dotted with lights and lined with intricate glowing patterns created a cyan glow around the ship. Inside the light, the engineers grappled onto the ship’s hull, working with the floating parts and equipment suspended in the magical field. By now, the damaged wing had been repaired, the synthesized plating matching the rest of the shuttle’s hull precisely. The current task for the four crewmembers was fitting the replacement engine on the end of it. They were strapped by their suits to the wing and floated weightlessly with the engine, which was much larger than all of them combined. Two of them held onto the engine from the front and back while the remaining two guided it from the side, easing it onto the waiting connection port built into the wing itself. Slowly, with gentle nudges from their reaction control packs integrated into the hardsuits, the engineers connected the engine to the shuttle.
“We have confirmed lock, time to secure connections and link it all up to the control system,” one of the engineers said.
“Copy that. Let’s get this over with quick. I don’t quite like working with obsolete tech, much less being asked to make it compatible with what we have now…” another griped.
“You’d best start smiling and do your job as best as you can, lest you want an angry pony coming after you,” the first engineer said warningly.
“Yeah, yeah…” the unhappy engineer grumbled. It reeled in the grappling cables and pulled itself from the engine and onto the wing.
***
Phineas marched down the hallways of the station with stoic dedication. He looked straight ahead as he walked and any who happened to be in his way quickly stepped aside whether or not they recognized his Federation barding. A few would watch him as he went on his way, annoyed but keeping their remarks to themselves while others would shout things at the stallion with no response at all.
He didn’t have time to waste on such trivial things. He didn’t pay them any mind walking down those winding passageways because he was too busy thinking about the coming wave of enemies. When the warnings reached the G.S.O, the news was quick to spread. Phineas was just wandering the station, lost and downtrodden by his talk with Uolix when the stark reminder of his cause came in the form of anxious whispers and grave tidings to brace for something big. It was then that he knew he couldn’t dwell on the matter and that he had to speak with Uolix again. He just hoped she would give him the time of day after his disgraceful exit from her chamber.
”There is no way that we will be able to hold this outpost,” he thought, ”we barely defeated the first wave. We’ve lost too many of our forces, and the forces we still have are still undergoing repairs.”
He reached the doors to the observation chamber some time later. The doors parted and he stormed though. He briskly moved across the platform, reared up when he came to the railing and then swung his body over with his front hooves. His jets deployed split-seconds after he started to fall, firing up and taking him across the chamber, descending steadily as he went. He dropped down to the floor in front of the waiting Commander and the boosters folded away into his utility pack.
“It is a wonder why we even bothered installing elevators if everyone is going to just throw themselves off of the upper levels,” Uolix commented somewhat listlessly.
“We’ve got more important things to worry about,” the stallion replied curtly.
Uolix simply nodded. “I was notified by my communications officers of the incoming threat and I have been deliberating on our next course of action.”
“Then it’s a good thing I got here when I did,” Phineas said. “So what is it? We don’t have much time to get the word out and get everyone where they need to be.”
“You say that as if you expect me to rally the troops,” Uolix replied.
“You did say you were planning to hold a defensive-“
The Shu’badi waved one of her mechanical arms dismissively and Phineas cocked his head.
“I have taken your report into serious consideration, Startrot,” Uolix said. “If the involvement of the Star Terrors extends well beyond what we commonly believed before then we cannot afford to lose any more lives. My orders to bring the Harmony out of hiding was a mistake, a horrific one at that.”
“Not necessarily. If you hadn’t made yourself known then we would not have had that conversation, you would not have known any of the things you know now,” the silver stallion argued.
“As true as that may be, it is overwhelmingly obvious that meeting this enemy in battle is the wrong thing to do. At least, as long as they have the power that the Star Terrors grant them,” Uolix responded. “So retreat is our only option. Retreat, converge and survive to finish the fight.”
Phineas nodded in understanding. “So what are you going to do?”
“I will issue another Trans-Warp order to every surviving stronghold to shake the enemy fleets hunting them down,” the Commander replied. “But the true question here is: what are you going to do, space pony?”
“You already know what I want to do,” Phineas answered.
“Then you need to do it,” Uolix said, her voice suddenly steely and serious. Phineas was taken aback by her straightforwardness. He simply stared at her and she continued to speak.
“Their power trumps ours. If their leader is not eliminated, if their connection to their ‘gods’ is not severed, we will all suffer. If the Hoof-Talons are an example to judge from, the undead will not kill us all. They might have made this galaxy hostile towards all life, but they will not kill us. They will let us live on the brink of extinction for the centuries to come, unable to fight back, unable to resist the plans that the Star Terrors have devised for us all.”
“Unless I act,” Phineas stated plainly.
“And act soon,” Uolix added. Her voice carried an extra weight along with the pressing urgency. “I am sorry that it has to be this way, but if there is anyone alive right now who has any chance of succeeding against these impossible odds…”
“I’m Phineas. Phineas Startrot. I have a knack when it comes to doing the impossible, remember?” the silver stallion replied in a bid to sound reassuring, though he himself doubted his chances. There wasn’t anything different now from before. He still had no idea how he was going to find the undead’s leading figure, much less how he was going to fight them. But time was running out. It felt as if a noose was tightening around the entire galaxy, strangling all the joy and hope that came about after the Hoof-Talons’ defeat and replacing it with the same bleakness that their horrendous dominion enforced for hundreds of years.
“Phineas… I want you to leave this station knowing that you aren’t on some suicide mission. It is… unbelievably dangerous… but know that I believe that you can do it. You will find a way, I’m certain of it,” said the Commander.
The armored pony bowed his head. “I appreciate the sentiment-“
“And know that when the time comes, the rest of the galaxy will jump at the opportunity you have presented us with,” Uolix pledged.
Phineas smiled a small smile underneath his helmet. His raised a hoof to the side of it, disengaged its seals and pulled it off of his head so that the Shu’badi could see his face one more time before he set off on his mission. He was not going to let her last memory of it be of him crying, that was for damn sure.
“I believe that wholeheartedly, Uolix.”
With that, he put his helmet back on, the locks clicking when it was firmly back in place, the air rushing back into it and the HUD reappearing in the stallion’s vision. He turned away from the Commander, walked down the aisle of terminals and actually stepped onto the lift this time to depart the chamber. He typed in the order and waited until it reached the entrance level, where he stepped through the gate and made his way for the door.
His pace upon leaving the chamber gradually sped up. It started as a normal walk that sped up into a trot down the hallway, a simple jogging pace which increased to a canter before breaking out into an all-out gallop. He sprinted down the hall, weaving in between everyone that stood in his way before leaping into the air and activating his jetpack. He roared down the hallways of the G.S.O, reminded of his first encounter with a Draconix aboard the Desolus.
Station crew and refugees alike gave the gray blur odd looks as he shot through the air, but he didn’t pay them any mind. That is, until a voice he recognized pierced the muddled blend of sound that his surroundings drowned in.
The stallion reared in the air, thrusters angling to kill his velocity before adjusting to maintain a hover. Phineas turned around and scanned the small group a few feet behind him. At first he was puzzled, wondering if the voice was just something he thought he heard, but then the small figure came forward.
“Phineas?” Elysia asked again, after shouting the stallion’s name, “what’s wrong?”
“A lot of things,” Phineas replied matter of factly. “But I’m going to do something about it all.”
“What are you talking about? And where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“I’m going to try my best to bring this to an end before the really bad things can begin,” Phineas said, avoiding the question.
“Have you lost your mind?” Elysia inquired.
Phineas paused to give the question a moment of serious thought. ”Possibly.
“What happened to ‘not being able to do this alone’?” the small ranger asked. She did not seem to pay the others watching her and the Federation pony any attention.
“You don’t know what it is I’m about to do. I can’t risk anyone else’s life. I’ve got to do this alone, because I’ve got no choice.”
Elysia crossed her arms. “Since when did this become a matter of your choice?” she asked. “Seems like you’ve gotten lost in your own glory.”
“Elysia, please… I’ve got no time to argue about this,” Phineas said. With that, he twisted about in the air and shot off, rounding around a corner and disappearing from sight.
Elysia scoffed and pressed a finger to the side of her helmet. A HUD interface appeared in front of her eyes and after cycling through various menus, came to a list of fellow Space Rangers in the sector. The list was quite small, and after feeling a pang of disappointment at that, Elysia selected the name of the tall ranger.
“Alikir? I need you to meet me below decks at the ship bay. Our Federation pony needs a bit of help…”
*** Phineas sped down the walkway. At the end of it was his shuttle, looking far better than it did last time he saw it. The darkened hull shone under the lights that hit it, almost gleaming. The engineers appeared to be putting in the final touches on it, working far apart from each other and dealing with the internal workings underneath exterior hull plates.
“Oi, what’s the rush!?” one of them called out to him when they saw him nearing.
”Do they really want the answer to that question? Phineas asked himself. He decided it would have been easier to evade the question again. “There’s no time to explain.”
“What are you on about?”
”By Luna’s crown, they don’t make getting along with them easy.” Phineas sat and raised his PDA. He opened the shuttle’s canopy and extended its boarding ladder.
“What do you think you’re doing!?” an engineer exclaimed as Phineas climbed into his ship.
“Thanks for the repair job, I really appreciate it,” the stallion said to himself when he was strapped into his seat, “but when I say ‘there is no time to explain’, I mean just that!”
He put his forelegs in the neuro-link sleeves, retracted the ladder and had the screen flip back down over the cockpit. He initiated the Spell-core drive, his terminals and displays lighting up one by one. The engineers scrambled off of the ship, still rendered weightless by their containment field and forced to use their R.C.S to put distance between them and the shuttle.
“Uolix, I need a launch window,” Phineas messaged the Commander.
“Grant that request for launch,” Uolix said to her officers.
The docking clamps moved the shuttle away from the holding cage before lowering it into another set of mechanical graspers that were waiting for it. The exchange went off with a loud hum and the release of vapor before the upper arms rose and the lower ones moved the shuttle along horizontally underneath the bulk of the hangar’s hold.
From the cockpit, Phineas saw his shuttle get loaded into what he recognized as a gigantic launch chute in the wall of the hangar. A blast door slid shut after the vessel entered and the arms reoriented the shuttle so that it was facing downwards along the shaft and they started guiding it along the passage slowly. In the far off distance, Phineas saw light flooding into the dark metal tunnel and the guiding arms picked up speed. They accelerated gradually until they were pulling the shuttle along at rocket speed. They disengaged just before reaching the end of the chute and the black and white ship was flung off into space from underneath the G.S.O.
The thrusters fired up, bright purple streaks trailing the shuttle as it pitched up and hurtled away from the station, leaving it and the molten world it orbited behind as it prepared for warp.
Uolix watched the single blue blip on its way to leaving the station in the super projector’s hologram. With a heavy heart, she said, “Good luck, Startrot.”
“Commander, we have another ship asking for express launch permission,” one of her officers said from behind.
The Shu’badi turned her head, perplexed. “Who is the pilot?”
“This is Space Ranger Elysia-Ryagna,” the ranger’s voice said from the officer’s console. “With me is Space Ranger Alikir. Permission to retrieve the Federation pony, ma’am?”
“Denied,” Uolix replied promptly.
“But-“
"But," the Commander interjected, “I have another objective to give you two…”
“I thought messing around with their stuff is what landed us in this mess,” Alikir grumbled. He lay back in his gunner seat, arms crossed and his legs kicked up, resting on the consoles arranged in front of him.
“Not everything about their tech is inherently harmful in use,” Elysia said, tapping away on a keypad and shifting holographic windows around. After a short pause she added, “It’s how we beat them in the first place, remember?”
“Yeah, and it only makes it worse, in my opinion,” the tall ranger retorted. “We basically decided to integrate their weakness into a fleet already skirting the edge of oblivion.”
“It only became a weakness after the victory in the Eolaythe asteroid field,” the female ranger corrected him. “Before that, they occupied parsecs of space but were able to organize their forces precisely with trillions of miles in between the closest fleets without having their communications intercepted.”
“I still don’t like it. What if they already have a counter, or a way to tap in?” Alikir inquired. With a shake of his head, he said: “It’s like the R and D division lost their damned minds and are just scrounging for an advantage by jamming old bits of technology together.”
“From what I understand, the G.S.O techies were sure to include defenses with the system. Aside from the charm-code encryption, they also modified the conjure-source from the original Hoof-Talon machines so Hex based energies can’t influence it.”
Alikir grumbled something that the smaller ranger couldn’t quite understand. “And this is supposed to let us track Phineas down?”
“Track the Federation pony down… communicate with other ships with the system installed…” Elysia sat back in her seat once her pre-launch systems were initialized. The light from her display screens glimmered against her red and white armor.
Alikir rolled his head to the side, looking at the battle-pod pilot from the corner of his eyes. “Then why don’t we send a message out? With the mana-whatsit thing that Uolix was telling us about?” he asked. “If the enemy can’t detect or decipher our transmissions with this system then what’s the harm in asking him to wait up?”
“Because Uolix believes it has to be this way. Him going off solo, that is,” Elysia said before taking a deep breath in anticipation.
“How do you know that?” Alikir asked.
“Because of the way she spoke. Like it was some non-negotiable thing that she was just going with, but the fact she decided to send us as back up shows she wasn’t completely alright with sending him off on his own. But then again, the fact she told us not to intervene until it was completely necessary shows she believes he can handle himself, so it’s like she’s trying to juggle having faith in the pony and making sure nothing goes wrong…” Elysia answered.
“Geez, I ask a simple question and I get some kind of psycho-analysis for a response,” Alikir joked dryly. Looking forward again, he said, “When this is all done with you might want to consider making a holo-tome in the field.”
Elysia chuckled. “Don’t be an ass, Space Ranger. We’ve got work to do, after all.”
“Aye, captain” Alikir said.
“And get your feet off the gun controls!” she said scoldingly without looking back at the ranger.
The battle-sphere descended down the chute, in the grip of the mechanical arms guiding it as they did the shuttle before it. Through her screen Elysia saw the interior of the tunnel running past her, a dark abyss down its incredible length broken only by tiny points of light shining among the plates of metal. Gradually the speed increased and Elysia felt the familiar pressure forcing her into her seat when the arms were speeding along the walls of the chute. The darkness ahead was consumed by the golden light of the nebula outside the G.S.O’s hull plating when the exit opened and the spherical fighter was jettisoned into space a fraction of a second later. It went soaring over the sky darkened by smoke and ash, leaving the tumultuous proto-planet and its gigantic satellite behind.
On one of her monitors, an updated map of the galaxy appeared; it was even more fragmented and disorderly than it was before. The islands of Harmony territory were trimmed down even further than they already were, split apart into scattered tangents throughout galactic space. Some of them were lost entirely, the undead laying waste to all the Harmony had in less fortunate sections and erasing those places from the star maps across countless strongholds and ships. Elysia sighed sadly and tried to focus on Phineas’ departing signal, which was indicated by a small yellow triangle that jumped in between the points of light representing the stars every so often when the pony passed them in warp.
“Our galaxy hosts billions of stars… in between them: vast empty stretches of nothingness,” Alikir stated, ending the prolonged silence inside the battle-pod’s cockpit. “That said… where do you think he’s going?”
“’That said’, I can’t even begin to imagine where he could possibly be going to,” Elysia replied, “but he’s going somewhere. A straight line if the course this map is plotting is anything to go by.”
“Well a straight line is the shortest distance between two points…”
Elysia turned her head slightly, the light from her forward screens glinting off of her visor. Alikir knew he was shooting him an unamused look from underneath. The ranger shrugged.
“It’s a fact. You can’t hold it against me for stating a fact.”
Elysia turned her attention back to her display. “Uolix did tell us he knows some vital information about the enemy. Maybe this is just part of his plan…?”
“If just flying across the galaxy in a line is his plan then the Federation pony might have gone insane,” said Alikir. “When put like that… I’m starting to understand why Uolix wants us to go follow him.”
Elysia hummed thoughtfully, then said: “Well, we won’t find out until we get along with it. Initiating Spell-core, preparing for warp sequence…” Her fingers flew across keys and flipped switches at her sides and above her.
The battle-sphere’s thrusters flared up and the fighter craft went sailing through the stellar cloud, accelerating faster and faster until energetic streaks of magic rippled across its shielding and it disappeared into an explosion of color that rippled out against a black, dotted backdrop.
***
“I have readings confirming that Space Rangers Elysia and Alikir have left the system and are now in warp transit,” one of the officers reported to the Harmony’s Commander.
Uolix turned away from the star map. With the latest update proving without a doubt the sad state the galaxy was in currently, she was ready to begin her countermeasures. “Good,” the Shu’badi said, “now it is our turn to leave this place. Synchronize warp initiation with the transmission.”
“It has been done, Commander. Engineering bay is on standby and ready to act upon your orders.”
Uolix nodded then turned back to the super projector. “Begin.”
A single officer farthest away from the others started to input the command, their appendages touching glowing pads of light before the holographic interface dissipated.
“It has… begun.”
Deep within the bowels of the station, gigantic constructions were roaring and growling, huge concentrations of energy flowing through synthetic veins and making various computers flash. Engineers of all kinds of species hurried to tend to the machines channeling the power to warp, multiple Spell-core containment fields blindingly bright as the pylons spun around the orbs of magic sustained within them.
Massive piston-like structures started to slide out from opposite walls in the huge room, humming loudly as their ends neared each other. It was not long until they met in the center and stopped, numerous spidery metal limbs wrapping around them and connecting the pistons to their ports.
For a few tense minutes, the sounds of machinery ceased save for the Spell-cores and the giant rods over the engineering bay started to glow a somewhat cream –colored light. Then, after numerous engineers at their consoles gave the order, the pistons retracted, one unified mechanical tone going off as the rods went slamming back into the walls, the glow rising in intensity in a fraction of a second just before being safely contained in the massive wall enclosed power units.
Viewed from outside, the station was at the center of some kind of singularity. Bolts of magical energy manifested out of nothing around it as it drew in mana from surrounding space, wisps of all colors spiraling around the station. Numerous disks of this collected energy formed and subsequently broke apart to form orbitals that wobbled erratically, shifting angles and glowing brightly. All the while, the singularity grew more violent, the magical lightning coalescing around the damaged station until it formed a barrier, the whole thing shining like a tiny star that was about to go supernova .
Whiteness. That was all that was left in the nebula after the station slipped into warp space. A wave of whiteness that spread out in all directions tore across the proto-planet underneath. It swept across the smoky atmosphere, scattering the dark clouds of soot and ash at hurricane gales. In seconds the whole planet was engulfed by the energy and by the first minute the edge of the wave was extending well off into interplanetary space. The inner region of the wave was the prismatic ripple, except in the form of a lining to the explosion rather than rings expanding along a single plane.
Though the light-wave stretched and grew exponentially with each nanosecond, there was one thing even faster than it, riding a quantum wind caused by the G.S.O’s warp.
The message for the last bastions of hope in the galaxy to disappear and remain hidden. If the call to act was Zero Hour, then the order to retreat was Exodus.
The black and white ship hurtled through a dreamlike realm: a tunnel of spellbinding colors, on its way to an unknown destination across light years of space. At the far end of the tunnel, receding ever more regardless of the immense speed of the shuttle’s flight was a circle of blue. It was deepest and darkest in the center, lightening along a steady gradient the farther out from the center one looked. At the edges of the circle, the light was a very light cyan, just a few shades away from being pure white. The halo’s edges danced like a flame, bleeding out into the other colors that were all encompassing in this tunnel. Reds, purples, greens and so much more strobed and pulsated, beams of strange energies rushing past the shuttle as it traveled through the tunnel boring through space-time. At the boundaries of the stream, the stars the spaceship was passing were barely visible, obscured by the opacity of the spectral way.
Phineas’ experiences with warping, while numerous, only lasted the smallest fraction of an instant. This was by far the longest time he spent tearing across the fabric of reality, passing the stars by instead of using them as cosmic waypoints. Who knew how much solar systems he was leaving in his wake, how many worlds they contained, how many of them were reduced to rubble… how many enemy ships still occupied their space…
But he could not clutter his mind with such distractions, as terrible a reality they were. He was bracing himself mentally for his mission. It was the least he could do, when he had no idea just what kind of foe he would be standing opposed to and where their defining battle would take place.
"As long as you still stand, there will always be two."
The chimera’s words echoed in the stallion’s mind. It seemed like the monstrosity was insinuating that he would always find himself facing things like the hybrid. Was it hindsight that gave that one statement so much weight, or was it actually prophetic in nature? Just how much did the bestial amalgamation know about the threads of fate, Phineas wondered. It was more than just a little probable at this point that there was more to this cosmic game than what the chimera told him. Could it be that Uolix was correct in assuming he was a part of an even greater scheme? That the Hoof-Talons and the chimera were just a stage in a much larger plot?
”Impossible,” Phineas thought. He remembered how the chimera spoke of his ultimate goal; that after the hybrid had secured his victory against him, he would create an even stronger force to take over the galaxy with using the pony’s genetic structure as a base for his next generation of warriors.
”Everything he said to me was… self-serving. He mentions his ‘god’ but focuses on completing his own agenda… it couldn’t have been all part of some great plan. The chimera genuinely believed in his own end and I stopped it from happening. I won… so why does it feel like I’ve already lost?”
”There will always be two.”
The silver stallion hardened his resolve. The chimera was dead. He brought that about by being smart, strategizing ahead of time and laying his trap. So what if in the heat of battle he forgot all about it? The fact was that it wasn’t brawn that slayed the beast. It was intelligence. And intelligence would be the key in winning this next fight and ending the cycle of war that the Star Terrors imposed on the galaxy. Phineas stared out into the colorful cyclone, finding affirmation in this, finding hope that he could truly win. But belief in himself was not the only thing he had to find! He had to find his opponent out of billions of stars across stretches trillions of miles across, filled entirely with the hostile undead. If there was ever a task that defied all odds, it was this one.
”Think,” the silver stallion told himself, ”There hasn’t been a single problem in your life that you could not solve with a bit of thought.”
Phineas sat at the head of the shuttle in near complete silence. The occasional beep and electronic chime of his equipment was the only sound in the cockpit, the lights of his display running across his armor and reflecting off of his helmet’s impassive yellow gaze. So he remained for several minutes, rushing through time and space. The stars continued to float past his peripherals, nearly invisible behind the prismatic filter.
“Then do not delay, pony. We eagerly accept your challenge.”
Phineas jerked in his seat as if he was hit by a bolt of lightning. Such was the intensity of his epiphany, if it could have been called such. ”They wanted me to do this…” The anxiety that he was playing right into their hand was one he could not rid himself, but it was one he had to accept and ultimately look past. He was afraid of the implications. He would have been a fool not to be afraid of the implications. The fate of the galaxy’s wellbeing was at stake. But he could not let them stop him. No force of heaven or hell could stop him. He wasn’t going to let his greatest obstacle be himself. Especially not after all he had been through, especially not after all he had done.
”They want me to do this,” he repeated in his mind, ruminating on the prospect. ”It’d be a shame if I kept them waiting long. It wouldn’t have done my reputation any favors,” he thought smugly.
“So you want me?” Phineas muttered, “then by all means, come and get me.”
***
The female ranger looked down at her blinking display and read the lines of symbols sprawling across the screen. She cocked her head curiously and then turned her gaze forward again. “He’s leaving warp transit,” Elysia stated.
“So it was his plan to fly across the galaxy in a straight line?” Alikir quipped.
Elysia hesitated with her response, unsure as to how to reply to the question. “Uh… I… guess?” she hazarded saying. She couldn’t understand the seemingly nonsensical nature of the Federation pony’s actions. Was this a result of the pressure and stress that came as a price of fighting wars for the greater good, or was the pony destined to resort to such strangeness sooner or later? What disaster would the Federation pony have brought to the convoy had they continued with his plan uninterrupted?
”No…” she thought. It was all too easy to doubt when things did not make sense. Perhaps cynicism was the default disposition of a soldier caught in the net of war, trying to come to terms with something disagreeable. ”Hope,” she reminded herself, “he made a promise… and the Commander believes in him…”
“I’m sure he has his reasons, Alikir,” she said with notably greater certainty.
“You know, he would make it a lot easier to understand why he does the things he does if he just… talked, and not just when it suits his purposes either.”
“I don’t think he has an issue talking-“
Alikir leaned forward in his seat to speak, “You see, that’s where you’re wrong. I suppose it’s my time to make a holo-tome on the subject.”
“You don’t think it could wait a bit?” Elysia asked.
“I think it at least needs mentioning,” Alikir replied.
“Then make it quick. I’m preparing for sub-warp transition.”
“Back when we were just a rag-tag convoy stuck out in some backwater sector of the galaxy, have you ever noticed how that pony acted? How he always kept to himself? Everyone’s grieving around him, and the Federation pony is busy putting his plan together to retake the galaxy?”
“What’s your point?” Elysia asked, running her hands across her control panel and handling the battle-pod’s controls.
“Then the day he decides to put it in action, he just steps up in front of everyone and has this heartfelt debate with me about why we need to fight? After I was still getting over the loss of my entire squad? Rangers, mind you that I had come to know as my brothers?”
“What are you getting at?” Elysia snapped impatiently. “Not everything about this war revolves around you and your squad. Yes, it’s a horrible loss but you’re not the only one who lost damn near everyone you cared about!” The female ranger’s voice cracked shouting that at the Space Ranger.
He was caught off guard and fell silent for a short moment. “Look… all I’m saying is that pony isn’t someone who can be judged solely by what he does,” the ranger began to say, “he’s done some great things but… you’ve got to consider his motives… his thoughts,” Alikir said as he sat back. He didn’t expect his partner to get as emotional as she did. “He doesn’t talk much and when he does he can get a whole crowd fired up and ready to fight a war. Something is just… strange about that. There isn’t much trust you can invest in someone who doesn’t speak unless they have some grander goal in mind and goes off on his own to complete a mission only one person really knows about.”
“Sure… sure, you’re right,” Elysia replied, calming herself. With a heavy sigh, she added: “But he’s not like us. Not like a ranger. We were trained to be open with our comrades… to trust them. The Federation pony… he doesn’t have anyone to be close with, does he? Not even his own kind? Everything he does, he does alone. What reason would he have to suddenly start speaking about how he feels, or why he does something? Who are we to expect him to trust us when he’s been conditioned by circumstance to depend only on himself?”
Alikir shook his head, shrugging even though the smaller ranger couldn’t see the gesture. “’Our best option’, as Uolix put it, is an unrelatable mental case complete with self-destructive tendencies with a splash of charisma for good measure. Joy. Again, I guess that’s why she sent us on this mission to begin with.”
“It’s best not to think about such things when on a mission, friend,” Elysia said offhandedly, passing on a small bit of wisdom to her fellow ranger. “Sorry about… yelling at you and…”
“Don’t fret about it,” Alikir replied, “I was asking for it. Everyone that was part of that convoy lost something big that day… I shouldn’t have kept bringing it up.”
“Right then; from now on we focus solely on the mission. No more distractions and tangents.”
“Aye, captain.”
The battle-sphere reentered normal space, ripples of light rushing off in all directions behind it. Located well outside of the system the Federation shuttle was currently in, the ship was coasting through the void as per their orders.
They could only wait to see what was going to happen next in order to decide what their course of action would be.
The Federation pony brought the shuttle’s velocity to what was practically an astronomical crawl, moving at just a few meters per second through the very outermost region of the system. In the incredible distance, the warm orange glow of a star reached out into the darkness. What surrounded it were not things which formed naturally in the cosmos. There were no planets, be them young or old, violent or stagnant. No rings of rock, ice and metal. There was only the orange stellar eye, the collection of plasma which glowed bright since the earliest era of creation. There was only the star and the horrendous constructs that were placed around it.
Phineas recalled his encounter with one of the deathless creatures inside the converted Harmony warship and was thankful that there was no way for him to partake in the stench of death by the grace of the vacuum and his own isolated air supply. To think about what a whole army of them stunk of when they were gathered together as they were in the hulking constructs made his stomach churn.
Phineas’ map revealed them to him, though he was still millions of miles away. Images that were projected in front of him that disturbed him deeply and left him in silent stillness- left him wondering what twisted turn of fate ordained his arrival in this star system. They were stations… bases for the undead with an unsettling architecture. Gigantic spheres made out of what Phineas guessed to be the same metal used in the construction of their ships. In fact, on closer inspection the stallion noticed that the components for the bases were their ships. Thousands upon thousands of them of all shapes and sizes, cobbled together into one structure, numerous pathways of sallow energy flowing through the gaps and canyons they formed.
Bone-like structures jutted out from the uneven surface, some of these serving as massive columns which met with imposing spiked rings that loomed over the black surface littered with glowing effigies to the deathless form. Monoliths of grotesque creatures rotting away stood tall, light spilling out from gaping wounds instead of blood. Huge open maws on the surface of the stations were akin to volcanoes, spewing hellfire into the void, fangs glistening with scorching flame.
“So this is what they’ve been up to… when they aren’t hunting down the living…”
The stallion wondered if his foe was waiting for him inside one of the death-husks. If it really was in one of the stations, which station was it in? He figured that the words he shared in the Hex-core were an outright summons from his enemies, goading him into rushing off alone as he did when battling the Hoof-Talons. If they really did want to make him abandon they convoy, it made sense to him that the whole affair was just a trap waiting to be sprung. He figured that by springing the trap he would find himself right where he wanted to be.
Was this where he wanted to be? In all fairness, he was in a random system out of billions. It was entirely possible that he missed the mark by entire galactic sectors, or was too late to act and the plan was changed. Phineas cursed mentally. ”I should have put more thought into this…”
The silver stallion sat back in his seat, smoldering. He was back to square one in not knowing where he had to be, with the added pressure of being in hostile territory. For all he knew, this was the beginning of a whole stretch of space controlled by the undead forces. For all he knew, he was in the rotten heart of the undead empire, being fenced in by the rising tide of evil. Maybe that was the trap after all!
Snorting irritably, Phineas began powering up his thrusters and brought up his star map. He had no idea where he was going to go, but he knew he couldn’t stay. A phantom thought crossed his mind as he sought out a course- that he was still dealing with the same problem of his old life with circumstances many times more morose than anything he knew in his long lost past.
“I’ve got no place to go, but there’s no way I can stay…”
Phineas chuckled dryly. Some things were better left behind and forgotten. Some things refused to be left behind and forgotten. And some things just did not change no matter how much time passed, be it a year or hundreds of them.
"My life is like some fucked up comedy."
His engines gave off their pinkish glow, moments away from blasting off into stellar warp and traveling down the prismatic way. Just before he committed to the jump however, Phineas noted the readings that were appearing on his displays. His sensors were picking up on anomalous activity around the stations, rising energy levels and magical concentration. Phineas arched a brow and powered down his warp drive. Pinkish vapor flowed out of the twin engines as the pony looked on at the proceedings with great confusion.
“Are they… warping?” Phineas thought out loud. One peculiarity about the undead forces was their ability to mobilize without betraying their movement to tracking equipment that looked for the telltale signs of an interstellar jump. Yet, paradoxically, Phineas was doing just that, detecting a warp signature from all of the death-husks orbiting close to the star.
The husks began to move. Slowly and without any visible means of propulsion, the metal aggregates drifted into formation, black shadows against the bright star. In time, the four stations formed a square with each structure at one corner of the shape. The fires being belched from the ornate jaws turned the most brilliant shade of green and the torrents of electricity that ran across the surface features of the structures lanced up and outwards. From afar, they looked like writhing tendrils, flashing and pulsating yellow-green light. So intense was the light that it was visible to Phineas, twinkling specks that could have been distinguished from the aura of the star.
”I don’t know what’s happening here but I have to stop it,” Phineas thought. The engines flared up and the shuttle rocketed toward the stations, purple streams of light trailing it all the way. Aiming reticles appeared on his view screen before merging into one central marker that was a yellow circle with an X in the middle.
As he drew nearer to the undead bases, his senses and reflexes were primed to dodge any defensive firing. He expected to be greeted with a hail of energy blasts and beams and he was more than ready to do his deadly dance to evade them, but nothing happened. His guns were charged and ready to unleash hell, but they weren’t. The stallion’s immediate question was ”Why,” and his answer was ”Trap.”
The missile aperture opened and a single warhead was sent soaring from the silo. Phineas banked the shuttle and broke off from the attack, swerving away but keeping an eye on the missile as it went on its way. It traveled at such speeds, a blue streak of exhaust left in its wake like a comet. It closed in on one of the stations and began to corkscrew, the nosecone splitting apart to reveal the drill waiting to bore into the station’s hull.
Seconds away from impact, a rift appeared in between the four stations. Like a torn canvas, the space in between the husks erupted upwards and fluttered about, frayed edges glowing a venomous green color. Beams of light streaked out of the tear as it widened more and more, expanding and changing shape into a swirling vortex right before the pony’s eyes. The detonation of the missile against the surface of the death-husk was a tiny spark compared to the ominous glow of the rift that opened.
“They were not warping…” Phineas stated, mystified, “they were opening a portal!”
And from this portal, the black giant emerged, imperious and terrifying. Slowly, it slipped from the fissure, the darkened and malformed beak rising high out of the ethereal green. Following it was the immense length and girth of the Marauder, ascending completely vertical relative to the orbital plane – or was it horizontal and everything else was vertical?
Phineas brought his shuttle around and cancelled his momentum, hovering before the behemoth still flying out of the portal. It seemed as if minutes were ticking by as seconds as the titanic vessel appeared. When it finally exited the rift, the tear mended itself, bulging and distorting before finally settling back as the familiar black background the pony was accustomed to.
”Not a trap,” Phineas realized then. ”All according to plan…”
The imposing vessel tilted over as lumbering as any colossus would even in microgravity. Slowly and ponderous, the Marauder leveled itself with everything else and Phineas glared hatefully at the craft. Not only was it the figurehead of Hoof-Talon rule, it was now repurposed as the seat of power for the undead’s leader! His tiny ship hung several hundred meters away from the tip of the horrible titan. The pony expected it to turn its weapons on him, or at least for it to let loose the malefic magics which it used to decimate the Harmony’s ranks. He could see the runes etched in its black hull, the morbid ornaments lining its plating of tortured masses, their eyes and screaming mouths glowing red and orange with their pyre.
Puffs of arcane flame billowed out of the seam formed when the beak started moving, dissipating in the void. Phineas remembered the sight, staring down the gullet of the colossal spaceship. This was it. He knew that inside the Marauder would be where this battle would happen. The battle to end a war.
“It’s about damn time we met face to face…” Phineas murmured to himself as he watched the beak open in full. The interior of the ship’s “mouth” was completely different from what he remembered. The huge guns that dwarfed his shuttle were replaced with dark, arcane altars. Jagged metal blades arranged like teeth in the beak and runes glowed with all the hues of a raging inferno, bathing the black and white craft in its hellish light.
“Thanks for the warm welcome. What was that thing I said before, about making you choke?” Phineas growled as he maneuvered the shuttle into the misshapen beak. It started to close behind him as a section of the wall ahead started to part, folding away to form a circular entrance into the Marauder proper.
The throat of evil awaited Startrot beyond it. He flew his ship through the entrance, but rather than follow the tunnel down to its eventual end, wherever in the ship that may be, Phineas aimed his primed weaponry up to the ceiling and fired freely, directed energy beams and orbs blasting through the hull plating. The shuttle flew up through its improvised path, dissolving the walls with its energy blasts as it made its way down the length of the beastly spacecraft. Phineas glimpsed the undead prowling the halls as he went firing his guns, seeing bits and pieces of them go flying with each explosion of magical fire and sparks.
“Aw damn!” Elysia hissed as the battle-pod went careening on through towards the Marauder. Its beak was all but closed as it was making its final approach, thrusters leaving white hot trails of exhaust behind it.
“We’re not going to make it!” Alikir shouted to the ranger, gripping his gun controls uneasily.
Elysia made a guttural sounding growl in her throat as the battle-sphere grew closer, but was unable to make it in time to enter the Marauder. At the last moment, the spherical fighter craft listed sharply to one side and swerved, flying alongside the leviathan of a vessel rather than crashing into it.
“So he decided to just go into the flagship of the enemy, huh?” Alikir asked, his voice displaying a strange mixture of elation and frustration at the same time.
“We need to get in there,” Elysia said simply, not taking her eyes off of the Marauder’s hull. Around her, plumes of arcane flames erupted from the anguished mouths of the deathless effigies, the fires lighting up the cockpit even more than it already was with overpowering shades of reds, greens and blues.
“No doubt about that,” Alikir replied, “put some distance between us and the ship. I’ve got an idea.”
Elysia had the battle-pod do a wide turn, shooting off away from the ship and passing over one of the death-husks, rolling in and out to duck the path of beams all the while. It then looped around and started flying straight for the ship, swerving from side to side and up and down as it navigated the line of fire.
Alikir surveyed his holo-display lining up the free range guns with his target: one of the occult cannons putting the most pressure on their approach. He opened fire, sending off twin lines of magical bolts that crashed into the cannon. The explosion ballooned out from the Marauder’s hull, shards of metal sent flying in all directions. The battle-pod’s magical shielding materialized for the small impacts, but the screech and popping the two Space Rangers heard was telling that admission into the Marauder was not a free deal.
“Micro-locks engaging!” Elysia said.
“We just got this thing fixed and now we’re busting it up again!” Alikir snarled as he fired unrelentingly, molten slag surrounding the pod’s view screen as it burrowed through the cannon’s housing.
Moments later it burst into one of the flagship’s expansive passageways, where it came to a lurching halt, jerking its occupants against the straps that kept them in their seats. The two rangers were panting breathlessly as the battle-pod bobbed up and down gently roughly four feet off of the room’s floor.
“Nice timing on the microgravity braking,” Alikir managed to bring himself to say.
“Nice… shooting,” Elysia responded.
Not even seconds later, several plates of metal lining the walls started to slide out of place, revealing compartments from which the undead foot soldiers flooded into the section of the ship as a mob, paying no mind to the danger of it being exposed to space. Sallow bursts of energy went flying at the battle-pod as they opened fire with their guns.
“No time for rest, Space Ranger! Get on those guns!” Elysia shouted as she fired up the engines again and sent the pod speeding through the chamber. Its guns went live not long after, blasting apart the far wall, where the ship disappeared chased by the necrotic bolts of the undead.
“He seeks an audience with us,” the twisted figure upon the black throne mused with a gurgling, throaty voice. It started to laugh, the laugh lighthearted and jovial in a strangely genuine way, like an elder amused by the antics of a young child. It lacked the deep grumble of the voice preceding it.
“Oh, the brilliance of it all!” the airy voice replied, escaping the same pale maw of the being.
Its white, sightless eyes stared over the lower levels of the throne room, the undead members of the Polymerization having no reaction to the muffled booms and thuds that traveled through the innards of the vessel. The vibrations rippled along the Marauder’s metallic spine and the creature was well aware of the shuttle’s approach. That was as it should be.
“But who are these… intruders?” a harsher, raspy voice inquired with a hint of disgust, “the pest was to come alone, as per his nature…”
“They will not interfere,” a deep, dignified voice assured. “The tenants of change, chaos and power are doctrines imposed by our Masters since time immemorial. They will die. The pony will take his place in the divine plan. Completion of our deed is at long last, at hand.”
The pale creature wrapped in writhing shadows smiled, one hand’s seven fingers curling up into a tight fist. The other gripped the silvery staff even tighter, for the time of glory drew nearer with every explosion. It waited, content upon its throne high above its subjects below, surrounded by the green flames which licked the walls, the tongues of fire fluttering like flags in the wind.
As he sent his shuttle racing down the wide halls of the formerly Hoof-Talon ship, Phineas was beset by memories of his first encounter. The stallion’s breathing was quick and raspy as he saw things morphing before his very eyes. He saw the undead he passed as the hybrid soldiers in their black armor, the decrepit walls around them as the pristine and uniform expanse that defined their standard of construction. Then reality would take hold again split-seconds later and Phineas would be confronted with faces lacking flesh and muscle, rotting eyes and graying organs, their bodies as different from anything Equestrian as different could be. The uniform walls of his memory turned into rune covered canvasses that plunged whole sections of the ship into an omnipresent redness.
Phineas’ lips curled as he struggled to keep himself in check, reacting to the startling changes as best as he possibly could while keeping his shuttle under control. He had to drown out the changes, to carry on in spite of them. Otherwise, he might just crash like a drunkard speeding down a highway. By the way he was carrying on right now; he might as well just fly straight into the fires his guns were laying down through the ship, the yellow and blue bursts of light in contest with the red glow.
As he went, keeping his utmost priority centered in his mind, he had to acknowledge one thing: if he suspected his psyche was damaged before, he had undeniable proof of his declining mental health to support his suspicions. It was an unsettling revelation to have as he went screeching down the corridors of the Marauder, laying waste to everything that was in front of him, be it undead, door or wall. He wasn’t as invincible as he would have liked to believe. Whereas his body hadn’t failed him yet, his mind was suffering in its place.
”Hubris,” Phineas thought, staring past the warnings on his HUD about his stress levels and heart rate, ”I guess I’m paying for it after all…”
The nightmarish visuals shifted again, and he was zipping down an orderly straight, the lights lining the top and sides of the passage blurring together as the stallion went. A group of Hoof-Talons were far ahead of him, flashes of scarlet going off and smashing against the shuttle’s magical shielding an instant later. His guns came to life again, blasting through the next set of bulkheads that stood in his way, the soldiers vaporized from proximity alone.
Reality: metal shards glowing white were tumbling through the halls, scraping against the hull plating and floor. Small bits of rot dissolved away in front of the pony, the gore and destruction etched into his consciousness as he stared wide eyed straight ahead.
”Get it together, Startrot! You won’t survive this if you start falling to pieces now. Maybe when this is over, but not now!”
He swallowed hard, took a deep breath and hardened his expression beneath his helmet. All he had to do was endure this long enough to bring an end to it. That was his goal. Anything else after could sort itself out, but this was his duty to fulfill, whatever the cost.
The pale creature was still, the smile on its facing remaining as it stared at the wall in front of it with its many milky eyes. The flames danced as they always have. The workers did their tasks without fail. Everything was coming together. The only thing missing was the guest of the hour. The violence was so close now. It was only a matter of moments-
The flames rushed away from the wall. Shrapnel went flying, impaling numerous of the Hoof-Talon thralls on the lower floor. From the jagged, glowing hole in the wall, the shuttle emerged, slowing quickly until it was hovering before the black throne. A hiss of vapor was released from the rim of the black and white ship’s canopy. It rose under the gaze of the sickly looking creature, whose smile widened into a toothy grin. The creature stood up and put the base of its staff to the floor. Hunched over, it began to descend the steps, using the staff as a cane.
Phineas pulled his forelegs from the neuro-link sleeves and disengaged his straps. He got out of his seat and walked over to the side of the cockpit. He hoisted himself up and over the edge, jetpack engaging. He hovered away from the shuttle while raising his PDA and putting in an order. The shuttle’s screen lowered back into place, its engines lighting up once more. It leaned over to one side, turned around to face where it came then jetted down the burning tunnel, the purple light dissipating behind it as it disappeared. Phineas watched it go before looking over to the grotesque figure.
The pale creature was now standing at the base of its throne, which made Phineas raise a brow underneath his helm. Not moments ago it was still at the top of its monolithic seat.
“We bid thee welcome, pony,” the creature gurgled. It eased itself onto one knee using its staff to balance and bowed its head to Phineas, whose confusion only grew. The oily shadows around it whipped around and rose like smoke, forming small puffs which disappeared after rising a few feet in an endless loop.
Phineas did not reply. He glanced away from the figure and saw that the remaining undead were mirroring the gesture of their apparent leader. He cringed. He used to think he was deserving of such response to his mere presence, but not only had he outgrown such obnoxious pride, the fact it was his detested enemy doing it made him uncomfortable beyond comprehension. It left him feeling disgusted and almost insulted. Perhaps that was the creature’s intention.
It stood up, trembling somewhat and relying heavily on its staff to get back into its hunched stance. The grin had not left its twisted visage. It started chuckling deeply and what Phineas could make out of its chest was quite visibly heaving. With one bony finger, it pointed to one of the stallion’s toolboxes.
“Do you intend to repair the damage you have caused?” it asked in a hoarse, scratchy voice, “How very thoughtful of you.”
Uncomfortable, disgusted, insulted and so very confused. Phineas simply hovered in the air, caught in a limbo by his own habits. He wanted to understand once and for all what the grander motivation for all the horrible atrocities committed in the name of the Star Terrors was and he also wanted to know by what means this creature came about, and why it was the leader of the undead horde. At the same time, he wanted to silence the words of this feeble, disfigured monster. He wanted it to drown in the blood its actions have spilled, to suffer the same way as its innumerous victims. Was this really his enemy? The one whom he was so anxious about facing? The one who orchestrated this convoluted plot? He could scarcely believe it. Silence was all he could spare in reaction, the nuances of the pony’s expression masked entirely.
“Not very talkative,” the creature commented casually in a croaking voice, “is it because of our… condition? You did not treat the traitor with such… coldness…”
“Traitor?” Phineas finally said in response. ”The chimera?”
The creature’s grin curved upwards mischievously. “We had a feeling that would get you talking.”
Phineas cut his jets, dropping out of the air right after and landing with a heavy thump on the floor in front of the abominable creature. “Speak and I will listen,” the stallion said.
“He still does not know his place!” one of the many voices of the creature stated with some restrained glee. It was high pitched and almost manic. Without skipping a beat, the previous voice continued: “Oh yes, the traitor. We believe you got to know him quite well-“
“Why do you call him a traitor?” Phineas interjected impatiently.
The giddy voice started laughing uncontrollably. The manic cackling echoed in the burning chamber. The undead surrounding the two at the base of the throne started to join in, their bodies beginning to heave as they started moaning and groaning to the tempo of the abomination’s laughter.
The laughter ended without warning when the creature shouted, “So many questions!” in a thundering voice. The underling deathless ceased their commotion and their sounds seemed to disappear into the crackling fires, consumed by the unnatural flame.
“What of you, pony? Why would you send your greatest weapons away after all the destruction you have already wrought on our vessel? Did you not think to use them on us?”
”It seemed too easy an option,” Phineas thought but said nothing out loud.
The creature’s grin turned downwards, the sickly albino skin on the creature’s face wrinkling. “Are you silent because you are so ignorant as to not consider that option?” it rebuked. “No… we know the extent of your guile and cleverness,” another voice came forward to say. “We also know your penchant for curiosity…”
“How far are you willing to go for your answers, pony?”
Phineas snarled irritably. “I’m not doing this again. You will either tell me what I want to know or I get on with destroying you.”
Rumbling laughter emanated from the creature’s throat. “You are in no position to make demands, pony, but I will indulge you this one time…”
“Then tell me, why is the chimera a traitor?”
“You will know as much as I soon enough!”
With sudden swiftness, the pale creature stood tall and limber. Phineas reared up in surprise, but by then the shadow-cloaked figure was already charging him, its legs long and lean and its stride large. Before he could react, the ornate end of the staff was brought down on his head.
“And now we bring our plans to fruition!” the creature bellowed. The mouth of the reptilian ornament flashed green, rings of magic forming around the armored stallion. Runes spiraled around him in alternating directions.
“You will join us! You will accept the will of the Gods! From now until forever, you shall serve under The Immortal!”
The Immortal threw its head back, its toothy jaws parting to unleash a horrendous sound, like a howl that was butchered and rearranged into sounding like a laugh, haunting and unnatural. It then looked down at its quarry and growled, “Now, who is your master?”
Phineas was frozen as he was when the staff made contact with his helmet. His hind legs had a decent spacing in between them and his forelegs were held at his sides, bent slightly in preparation to throw a furious barrage of punches. And so he remained after the question was asked of him, unresponsive, unmoving.
The Immortal’s many eyes glowered at the stallion. “Well-?“
The pony’s forelegs shot up and he grabbed the staff. With a strong tug, Phineas took it from the pale creature’s grip, hopping backwards several paces afterwards and twisting it around so that its ornate end pointed threateningly at the albino.
“Impossible!” The Immortal roared. “They blessed me with the power! You should be my slave!”
”You tried… to brainwash me…” Phineas thought as he stared hatefully at the shadow-cloaked abomination. ”You tried… to brainwash ME!? Do you have any FUCKING idea who I am!?”
Phineas swung the staff around, bringing it down with a powerful overhead swing that smashed the figurehead on the end against the floor. It did not bend or dent as per its metallic appearance. Instead, the ornate jaws and tendrils cracked in a crystalline fashion, angular breaks spreading across it. The cracks started seeping viridian energies from them.
“NO!” The Immortal barked. “You heretic! You disgusting heret-!“
Phineas let out a wordless exclamation of rage, a furious yell as he threw himself at The Immortal and brought the staff down on its head with such force behind the blow that the ornament shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces. It fell apart into glass-like shards, leaving the pole with a jagged tip glowing brightly with poisonous energy.
The Immortal doubled over from the hit, but stood up again quickly enough to be hit by the eruption of energy that came from the fractured staff. The wrathful look that was on its horrendous face swiftly turned to that of absolute fear in those few seconds. It was sent hurtling backwards in an arc, the smoke trailing its path through the air. It thudded against the steps leading up to the black throne and then started rolling down them. Phineas was knocked off his hooves at the same time by the vicious blast, tossed through the air before he went slamming down on his side several feet away from where he was before. He grunted, feeling the ache spread out through his entire body, but paid it no mind as he staggered back upright, using the staff as a crutch in a way that was very akin to The Immortal.
Immediately, he was faced with several undead hybrids converging around him like a pack of wild animals. They deployed their weaponry altered by the necrotic power of their abominable leader and opened fire, sending the streams of sickly magic at the Federation pony.
Phineas took to the air with his thruster pack, throwing the staff like a spear into the first Hoof-Talon zombie he saw. Its sharp end pierced its armor and the rest of it sank into its rotting body before coming out the other side, stabbing into the floor of the burning chamber. Because of the steep angle it was thrown, the deathless hybrid was pinned to the floor by the base of its neck. The zombie snarled and growled as it wriggled about, its resistance making the damage more extensive until it severed its spine and its head dropped like a weight.
Phineas then deployed his hover-platform weaponry and engaged the other undead in a firefight, dancing about in the air and raining magi-bolts onto his foes. Shortly into the battle, a series of rapid booms sounded off elsewhere in the ship, each thundering noise growing closer and closer until finally from behind the black throne, the battle-pod came screaming into the burning chamber.
“What the hell!?” Phineas blurted out.
With his concentration thrown off, he was promptly struck by a necrotic blast, the sickly orb exploding against his magical shield and dropping it instantly. Before he could recover, another orb smashed into his back, its malefic energies assaulting him directly. The stallion cried out in pure agony, his suit systems going haywire. His jetpack cut out and his rifles lost their magical charge, folding up and starting their fall alongside their user. He slammed into the floor at speed, leaving him in searing pain and gasping for breath.
The battle-pod swung around in the air, its cockpit screen sliding upwards. It rolled upside down and Alikir disengaged from the holo-pod. He dropped out of the fighter craft and twisted his body around so that he was falling feet-first; his boosters firing up to slow his descent. He put his hands by his thighs and the handle of his guns popped out of their holsters.
“I won’t allow it to happen again, you bastards!” Alikir screamed, drawing his dual pistols. They issued their roars, puffs of flame and smoke rushing out of their barrels and sending their explosive rounds into the soldiers below.
Elysia rolled the fighter again and retracted the screen. She then flew the pod close to the floor, its magical shielding manifesting exclusively around the front of it as it went mowing down the enemy, the soldiers dissolving away into glowing powder that was scattered by the ship’s passing.
Trembling, the pony attempted to stand. He was afflicted by a hollow, hacking cough. His vitals monitor flashed on his HUD and he knew that the blast was killing him, rapidly shutting down his bodily functions. It was a literal poison and all who fell to these weapons died a slow, torturous death.
“Federation pony!”
The stallion looked off in the direction of the voice. His vision was beginning to distort, but he could see Alikir sprinting towards him, although blurrily. “Aleekeer,” Phineas said, his speech slurred. The Space Ranger slowed to a stop next to the armored pony and he kneeled.
“Don’t speak,” Alikir replied. He holstered a gun and then tapped his hardsuit chest piece with his free hand. A compartment revealed itself and Alikir fished around in it with a couple of his fingers before pulling out a white oblong object roughly the size of his fist.
“Whuzzat?” Phineas inquired before coughing some more.
“I said don’t speak!” Alikir chided. He pressed down on one end of the object with his thumb and the other end split apart into petals that pressed against the side of it. A needle like object extended and around the base of it blue and pink lights lit up, indicative of a magical charge.
“It’s a stabilizing spell. Elysia and I were given a pack of these before we left on this mission to counteract their weaponry should we need to revive one another.” He pressed the point of the needle against Phineas’ chest and pressed the other end with his thumb again. The lights around the base went dim as the full strength of the spell was administered to the stallion, a healthy aura of pink and blue running across his body.
Phineas mumbled something incomprehensible before breaking down into coughing yet again.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Your listening skills could use some work, and dying isn’t an excuse. Anyway, that should keep you up long enough until we can get you back to the G.S.O’s medbay.”
“Just put me in my shuttle’s stasis pod and tow me back,” Phineas growled, feeling his strength return to him somewhat. “It’s where I normally go after-“
Phineas stopped speaking when he noticed the glinting from the corner of his vision, a light that did not pertain to the green fires. He looked to the source and his eyes widened as he saw The Immortal rise from the bottom of the stairs. In its hands was a collection malefic energy that was the same as that from the broken staff.
“Like the traitor before us, who betrayed the Gods in the hopes of becoming a god himself by prolonging their holy crusade…”
The Immortal shambled towards Phineas and Alikir, hands clenched into fists. Alikir tensed, preparing to pull his gun on the creature and ending this fight before it began.
“We… have been forsaken by the masters. For reasons we do not know… we have been forsaken. Our flock carried out the Rites of Dominion for the Masters! We pledged our entirety to the Masters! We did everything right that the traitor did wrong! And yet still we are DAMNED!”
The albino abomination raised a glowing hand to the armored stallion. “Like us, you too will be damned!” it roared, the magical aura exploding outwards around it. Electrical tendrils were wrapping around the corpses around it and pulling them towards the pale creature. Alikir opened fire with his pistol, but his rounds never made impact, evaporating in the arcane storm.
“We will all be damned! The Gods own this galaxy and will do with it as they see fit! They are the will of the stars and mortals are but their playthings!”
“Alikir, give me a few more of those spells,” Phineas said to the ranger.
“What!?”
“I’m not leaving here until that fucker is dead and I don’t intend to die before he does!” Phineas snarled angrily.
“You need to get out of here and let me and Elysia handle this!”
“You and Elysia need to get your asses to this stupidly huge ship’s Hex-core and take it out! I’ll keep the jackass busy here so he doesn’t go after you. He wants me dead more than anything!”
“But-“
“For fuck’s sake, do you think we have the time to debate this!?”
Alikir reached into his chest compartment and plucked out a handful of the spell containers. He reluctantly held his hand out and Phineas took it. He moved it to one of his toolboxes, opened the kit and had the ranger drop the containers into it.
“Now get out of here, things are about to get a lot more violent if the last time I fought something like this is anything to go by!”
Alikir gave the pony one last look, hidden by his golden visor. He then turned away and started sprinting across the chamber floor. He put his free hand to the side of his helmet. “The Federation pony’s got things handled here, we’ve got different objectives that need to be done. Get ready to mount an offensive at the ship’s engine room.”
“Are you mad!? He’s injured!” he heard Elysia exclaim.
“What? You don’t have hope that he can do this?” Alikir replied. “Because then we’d be in agreement!”
He holstered his gun and fired up his jets as Elysia brought the battle-pod around, the canopy opened. He flew into the fighter, dropped back into his gunner seat and strapped in.
“He’s going to die here, isn’t he?” Elysia asked as she pointed the pod towards the hole in the wall past the black throne.
“More than likely,” Alikir answered. “But I think he’s okay with that as long as he gets the job done. Surviving’s just a plus, you know?”
Elysia hummed uneasily at that, but didn’t say any more. This was a war where tens of thousands died pointlessly and only a small few gave their lives for something meaningful, be it to save the rest of their company or saving the entire galaxy from the tyranny of powers beyond comprehension.
When the green magics subsided, what stood in the place of The Immortal was a hulking golem made entirely out of bone imbued with metallic plates from the armor the soldiers wore. It was an exoskeleton of both ivory and ebony, boasting blade-like claws and talons. The gaps in the armor glowed with the emerald light, almost blending into the fires that illuminated the burning chamber. Bony whips dangled from the golem’s forearms, which it lashed against the floor, igniting them with blue arcane flames.
Phineas dashed over to the staff embedded in the Hoof-Talon corpse. He got up on his hind legs and pulled it from the body, twisting it around in his grip before pointing its jagged end towards the golem. He whipped his tail around, the crimson blade manifesting itself with a buzz and a hum.
Elysia turned her head, looking out of her view screen from the peripherals of her vision and seeing the bone covered giant that utterly dwarfed the pony that stood in front of it. Visible between its legs, Phineas was even smaller in scale than he was compared to the normal denizens of the galaxy. Though diminutive he may be the stallion stood his ground as defiant as ever. It was an inspiring sight… which was why she couldn’t bring herself to leave the burning chamber.
“You need to focus,” Alikir started to say to her when he noticed that her mind was distant, “we don’t have time to waste-“
“Can you really call yourself a Space Ranger and leave a comrade behind like this? What would our squadmates think of us?” Elysia asked. Without waiting for a response, she started to lower the battle-pod down to the chamber’s floor, deploying its landing struts as she did.
“But what about the Hex-core?” Alikir replied as the small ranger retracted the cockpit’s screen.
“We’ll handle it after we neutralize this enemy. Then we’ll extract Startrot and get him back to the Situation Observatory for the aid he needs,” Elysia said with her trademark authoritativeness that made it clear that she was fully committed to her actions. The pod touched down and she shot out of her seat. She put her hand down on the inside paneling of the cockpit and then pivoted her body over the side while drawing her gun at the same time.
Alikir undid his own harness and joined her, thinking all the while: ”How does an attitude so big fit in a body so small?” He dropped down beside the female ranger in a crouched stance, hands at his hips. His guns popped up from their holsters and he took them in his grasp.
“Fan and flank, do not engage until I give the signal,” Elysia said lowly and Alikir nodded. The two darted across the chamber in opposite directions, their footfalls silent against the metal floor.
”What the hell are they doing!?” Phineas thought when he saw the two rangers move out from behind the bone-giant and dash away from each other so that there was one of them covering either side of the monster. They then hunkered down near the array of terminals around the bottom level of the throne room, taking their positions until further notice. The entire reason he wanted them to go after the ship’s engine was so they wouldn’t be in the danger he was in right now! It was for their own good!
He didn’t dare let on that something was amiss to The Immortal though. He just stood before the giant and looked into its intense glowing eyes with his expressionless yellow ones. The bony plates on the side of its jaw flexed and slid forward, overlapping other bony bits of various sizes and forming mandibles that clicked and rattled as the being within began to speak.
“You are a fool unlike any other. We were the Gods’ greatest servants and we were abandoned by them just as we neared supreme victory!” The Immortal rumbled as it took its first lumbering steps towards the stallion, the black mist that it was wreathed in before rising out of the gaps in the sides of its mouth. Its footsteps were heavy, thudding against the deck and causing it to quake.
Phineas used the broken staff as a means to balance again, taking note of the giant’s movement. It was slow yet powerful. The only thing it seemed to have going for it were the flaming whips it was dragging at its sides, which provided both speed and range. Getting close to The Immortal would be a chore, but if he could pull it off then he could work on taking apart the colossus piece by bony piece. What bothered the stallion was the fact he was playing this game of danger with borrowed time. How long did he have until the decaying magic started to affect him again? And how was he going to handle this without getting the others hurt? His mind was racing trying to formulate a plan on the spot.
“Funny thing about that traitor,” Phineas began to say, “when I was fighting him, he got it in his head that I was some trial sent by your ‘gods’ to test him or something. Maybe he was right? Maybe you are being tested right now! Maybe you already failed!”
The white and black colossus paused mid-step. It almost gingerly put its taloned foot down and its glaring eyes were locked on the armored pony in an almost contemplative way. Phineas raised a brow. He started mumbling, “What have I d-?“
“FOOL!” The Immortal boomed suddenly, swinging a massive arm into the air. “HERETIC!” it roared as it swung it downwards. Phineas retracted his energy blade, ducked off to the side and did a roll to evade the azure whips that lashed down where he was standing, baleful fire flaring up on impact with the metal and causing sparks to leap into the air.
Phineas then saw its other arm coming around, sweeping the whips horizontally through the air along with it. Acting swiftly, he decided to thrust the blunt end of the staff into the floor at an angle and then at the precise moment just as the whips were nearing, kicked off of the ground and vaulted over them using the pole. He twisted himself around in the air, pulling the staff from the floor as the burning bone chains passed underneath. He then landed on his back hooves and dropped into a crouch, holding the staff across his front side. He was panting, feeling like a zebra martial arts master from the old age of Equestria.
“Fool or heretic,” The Immortal snarled disdainfully to the stallion as it let its arms hang at its sides. It stood like a pillar as it spoke down to him with its burning, hateful eyes. “Whichever you may be: a fool who knows not of what he speaks, or a heretic who knowingly speaks against the Gods, it does not matter,” it said, its eyes blazing as its words grew more harsh.
The armored giant made a deep rumbling from within its burly form and continued on with its speech, “Our deed has been done; the souls of the strong have been given to the Gods to prey upon so that they can become even stronger. We have done in mere days what the traitor delayed by centuries with his fake soldiers and pathetic toys. We were bestowed with the artifact, we sought out the trinkets of the Rejected Ones and we served the Masters and the Masters alone. But are we the blessed and privileged?”
It let out a bout of laughter. It was a deep sound, though it lacked mirth. It was dry, lacking and hopeless. Phineas scowled, wondering how something responsible for so much death and destruction could sound as The Immortal sounded; like it was the victim despite it committing so many crimes. It was infuriating, but Phineas maintained restraint. In its time of despair, its rambling was answering his questions. He wanted to know just how much answers he could get out of the abomination before he had to finally kill it.
“We were discarded without warning, left to become victims of the likes of you”
The dark miasma started billowing out of the gaps in The Immortal’s armor all over its body. The green fires darkened until they too were black and they grew larger until they were spilling out of the creature’s exoskeleton. Phineas braced himself, the creature’s voice alone enough to raise his alarm, much less the volatile display that its body was doing.
“But we will not go quietly into the nightly realm of death to be eternally judged by the Eternal Eyes. We will either regain the favor of our Masters or ensure that you are dragged along with us to the place of the forsaken!”
At this point, Elysia’s hand shot up, signaling Alikir to spring into action. The two rangers popped up from their places and activated their booster packs, rushing toward the giant from behind as they opened fire. Alikir emptied his pistols into the back of the golem’s head and neck, the explosive rounds smashing the armor with ease. Elysia’s high powered gun, while slower to fire, sent penetrating rounds through the weakened armor, be it bone or metal, punching large holes into the giant’s body. A jet of superheated gas shot out of the entry wounds, bone fracturing into fragments which then turned into a powder in a fraction of a second.
Though their attack looked like it had impressive results, it was quickly apparent that it had no effect on The Immortal within the golem. The bone-giant exploded into its many individual parts, suspended in the air as the black powers swirled and churned like a storm cloud. In an instant, the bones and metal came together again, forming several tall, slender pylons that were hanging a few feet in the air around the black cloud. The flames on the walls were drawn to them, sucked towards the center of the chamber and turning into a flaming twister around The Immortal. In another instant, the flames were collected into a single orb of light that was shining brightly over the malevolent essence, rings composed of raw magical energy spinning around the altar with runes running across them.
“Masters!” the many voices of The Immortal cried out as one, “is this what you wanted!?”
The pylons were then raised, stabbing into the orb and causing bolts of green lightning to manifest around them. The electricity snaked around the bony structures and the runes began to spin even faster. The pitch of the voices were stretched and distorted until they were nothing but formless noises in the storm. The two rangers swerved around the upheaval and planted their feet on the ground on either side of the armored stallion. “What in the blazes is going on?” Alikir asked.
“My suit’s sensors can’t get a read on the energy signatures!” Elysia exclaimed. “This isn’t anything that occurs naturally! Not even Spell-cores produce energies like this!”
Phineas looked down at the broken staff and snarled, “That’s because this isn’t a natural event! That’s some kind of Hex-core! It’s opening a connection directly to the Star Terrors!”
“Great!” Alikir responded. “Now how do we stop it!?”
“Just shooting it doesn’t seem to be much of an option,” said Elysia.
“Hold on,” Phineas muttered. He reached into a toolbox with one free hoof and promptly pulled out his Magi-Flux Harmonizer. “It’s only a hunch but…”
He powered up the magical tool, its prongs lighting up and crackling with white and blue energy. He maneuvered the tip of it to the jagged end of the broken staff, inching closer and closer until finally, a stream of magic jumped from the Harmonizer to the end of the pole.
“What are you doing?” Elysia asked, watching the Federation pony work from over his shoulder.
“This staff came from the Star Terrors. I’m betting that if I give it enough of a charge, one of you can throw it into that orb and disrupt the whole thing,” Phineas replied.
There was a short pause and Elysia turned her head to look at the tall ranger. He, in turn, looked to her and then bowed his head. “Right, what with you dying on the inside as we speak and Elyisa’s uh… physique, I guess I’m the only candidate left for throwing things.”
“Your name will be remembered for centuries to come for your actions here,” the female ranger stated. “Alikir: Thrower of Enchanted Objects.”
“I’m so honored.”
Phineas shut off his Harmonizer and stuck it back in his toolbox. “There,” he said, feeling his breaths becoming shallower. With minor difficulty, he said to Alikir: “Before any of that happens, you gotta… pull it off.” He coughed and added “No pressure.”
The pony gave the Space Ranger the staff then pulled out a stabilizing spell. He activated it, put its tip against his chest and administered another dose of the healing magic. Meanwhile, Alikir walked a short distance to the maelstrom of dark magic, stopping after only a few feet. He took a deep breath, adjusted his stance and held the pole at shoulder level. He eyed his glowing target, tensed his body and with one final, fluid release, sent the staff sailing through the air to it.
”No pressure at all,” the ranger thought.
The staff disappeared into the orb and a blinding flash of light washed across the chamber, a light so powerful that not even Phineas’ adaptive screens could have diminished its effect. He closed his eyes and raised a foreleg to block them. The rangers did the same, with Alikir backing away from the chaos to boot.
As if pulled back from the nether, the voices of The Immortal reformed into something recognizable: tortured screaming. When the three opened their eyes again, they saw that the light had subsided and that there was a horrible mess surrounded by glowing metal before the black throne. The paste that was boiling away in front of them was a light gray in color with hints of reds and Phineas was really glad he could not smell the stench that was surely coming off from it.
They were all silent for a long time. It was Alikir who regained the ability to speak first, and he used it to offer his insight on the matter: “Holy… shit.”
“Um…” was all Elysia was able to say, her eyes glued to the spot.
“Well then… this isn’t going to haunt me for the rest of my life,” Phineas deadpanned.
“So… is it over?” Elysia asked with a trembling voice. “Is this the end?”
Alikir shook his head. “We still gotta blow this ship up and every last undead bastard on board.”
“Right… right…” The small ranger shook her head and took a few deep breaths to regain her composure. “It’s time to finish the mission.”
Alikir nodded and then looked over to Phineas. The pony had just put down the foreleg that his PDA was attached to. Alikir cocked his head slightly and asked, “How are you holding up?”
“I’m not dead,” Phineas replied as he walked over to where his hover-platform rifles landed. He picked them up and started to put them back in his utility pack when he added: “so pretty good, all things considered.”
Alikir then asked, “So what are you going to do now?”
“Help finish the mission,” Phineas replied simply.
“Help?” Alikir asked, “Help how?”
“I’m sure you can figure that one out, Space Ranger,” said Phineas.
For the first time since the ranger met the pony, Alikir detected something that wasn’t overbearingly serious in Phineas’ tone. It wasn’t much, but there was a sliver of impish humor present. A twinkle in the corner of his eye a few moments later caught his attention and then he heard the rapidly approaching roar of a spaceship’s engines. He looked to the hole in the front of the ruined chamber. There, he saw the black and white shuttle rushing down the straight, answering its pilot’s call.
The shuttle slowed to a hover shortly after it entered the formerly burning chamber. The canopy opened up and the ladder extended. Phineas grabbed the rungs and started to climb.
“Are you fit to fly?” Elysia asked with evident concern.
“Fit enough,” Phineas replied, “for the time being, at least.”
“I suppose we should get this done quickly then,” the female ranger mused.
“Make it a clean sweep, as you would say?” Alikir commented.
“Before we do,” Phineas said suddenly at the top of the entrance ladder, “I want to know just why the hell you followed me anyway, and how the hell did you manage to do it.”
“Long answer would take too long,” Alikir chimed in.
Phineas simply nodded. ”We’ll be having words, Uolix.”
***
The undead scuttled along the levels of Hex-core chamber at a loss, without purpose. Like mindless beasts they fought amongst themselves, necrotic bolts and beams soaring across the engine block and disturbing the reddish-orange glow. The Hex-core drive was left unattended for the most part, save for the deathless that destroyed the monitoring consoles in fits of rage, some of them going as far as attempting to ingest the frayed wiring and chunks of machinery. They paid no attention to the tell-tale explosions that were increasing in volume with each passing second in their frenzied state of being.
The battle-pod screeched through the warzone, fires erupting out of the tunnel it bore through the ship’s structure. Just as quickly as it had appeared, the fighter was gone, making a sharp turn and proceeding to eat its way through the ship’s hull, superheated rings of metal dripping slag left in its passing. The undead had no reaction to its appearance, and likewise, had no reaction to the second blur that shot out of the tunnel with a streak of blue behind it. It did not turn however; instead it held its course until it slammed into the central block of the Hex-core.
The explosion went off as the shuttle was passing through the chamber, swerving into the second tunnel and chased by the expanding bubble of violent magic. Blue and green flames rendered the ship a shadow as it hurtled down the carved out passage. The edge of the explosion tailed the shuttle all the way until it finally shot out into space, escaping the death of the Marauder.
The ship shook as a tremendous quake rippled down its length. The beak at the front opened slowly, bleeding out red and green mist into the void. Its structure buckled, bent, and then ruptured viciously, the fireball spreading to the deathless stations around the enormous vessel.
There was a lone planetary goliath far along its celestial trek around its home star. It was a rocky world, its expanses of land tinged with greens, blues and purples; its skies dyed pink and yellow on the side facing the sun. Over its equator was a wide, flat disk: rings of densely packed particles of ice and rock. The rings of this giant planet were inclined at a shallow angle, matching that of the planet’s axial tilt. In its current position, the planet was pointing towards the starlight, the brown and cream colored bands illuminated in brilliant fashion. Located several hundred kilometers above the surface, hidden in the outermost ring, was the sprawling space station -though it was not so big in comparison to its heavenly neighbors. In fact, despite its size, it was almost lost in the debris field, surrounded by thousands and thousands of glittering shards and fragments that seemed static around the G.S.O, though they were moving at several hundred meters with each passing second around the goliath world.
Back in her personal quarters, Uolix was overseeing the projects she began at her workstation. It was clear from the crushing defeats the Harmony suffered; they were ill-equipped to face threats of magical origin. As such, it was her initiative to better the technology available to them. Repurposing the Hoof-Talon communication relay and developing the stabilizing spell were small steps, but they were a start of a much larger and rapid advancement for the galaxy’s defenders.
The Commander’s robotic arms glided across her console, claws tapping away at keys and maneuvering holographic interfaces all simultaneously. She worked with impressive speed and efficiency, seeming to absorb the information displayed in front of her in seconds, completing one task and immediately going on to the next. Small windows of light hovering over the computer provided real time feeds from several different research departments, allowing Uolix to view the scientists and engineers as they worked in their white walled labs and busy hangars.
”This is the right thing to do, right Tsubar? You would have wanted to keep innovating and improving... even after this whole debacle…”
The light from the projections ran across her black visor, glinting and glimmering as she worked at her speedy pace. Though she carried out her duty as leader with utmost dedication, her thoughts were drifting away, leaving her physical self to carry out its automation.
”Gaali, lend me your wisdom so that I could prevent this disaster from ever happening again. Romaz lend me your strength so I could be strong for them all. Javic, share your presence with me so that I am never truly alone…”
“Commander,” she heard one of her sentinels in the observation chamber say over her comm-link. “The Space Rangers have just left warp transit. They have the Federation pony with them.”
Forced back into awareness, Uolix said, “Grant them express docking and summon them to my quarters for a full mission report.”
There was no reply for a few moments. When the officer spoke again, it said, “Ryagna-Elysia is sorry to say that she has to delay that. The pony is in need of immediate medical attention.”
“Very well,” Uolix replied evenly, not betraying her surprise. She hastily typed in a command on her console. “I have alerted a response team and have requisitioned a transport at priority dock one. Direct them to enter the station there.”
“Roger.”
With the conversation having ended, Uolix let out a distressed sigh. ”If only I could speak to you all still… I would ask if I’ve done the right thing…”
Uolix turned her attention back to the different divisions of the G.S.O’s development staff, doing her best to not jump to any negative conclusions. Like her talk with Startrot before, she could only study the facts after she was provided with them. She knew that doubting herself was not going to help anything, especially when the future of the galaxy was dangling on such a fragile thread. The defeat at Thymal and the subsequent fall of the Harmony was a brutal lesson for her as to the merit of a leader. A leader had to be strong for the sake of others, even when they themselves were lost and uncertain.
***
”I can still walk, you know!”
The stallion was loaded up on a medical stretcher designed to be universally applicable to all of the galaxy’s spacefaring races. Consequently, he was strapped onto a padded bed that was many times larger than himself and said bed was mounted upon a treaded transport drone. It was speeding down the length of hallway with doctors in white uniforms on either side of it, their positions denoted by the four light blue stripes that ran across their shoulders.
Phineas’ helmet was off of his head. In its place was a strange device that the doctors put on him shortly after he left the shuttle. First they put him on the stretcher and then they took off his helmet. They put a clear, semi-transparent gel over his mouth, which hardened into a mask in seconds, adapting to the shape of his snout. Over the mask they attached a breathing apparatus, a bulky filtration machine that had many straps running around the pony’s head to keep it secure. Attached to the filter were many tubes that ran into a storage unit in the transport drone.
In their urgency, the doctors did not listen to him when he tried to explain how his suit’s life support systems worked. In their urgency, the doctors did not inform him of the fact the air supply he was now hooked up to was mixed with anesthetic chemicals. As such, the onslaught of nonsense that took hold over his rational thought came unopposed. He looked over to one side, seeing his helmet lying beside him, its impassive yellow eyes staring at him.
”Don’t give me that damn look,” he thought, his eyes scrunching up as he glared at it. ”I didn’t ask for this!”
“He’s had two stabilizing spells,” Elysia informed the doctors as they went, Alikir walking briskly beside her as she kept pace with the team.
“How soon after exposure to the impurity was the first spell administered?” one of the doctors asked.
“Not long… couldn’t have been more than a few minutes for me to clear out the soldiers that had him pinned,” said Alikir.
“Hmm…” the medic hummed. “Intuition would dictate that the damage should not be extensive… but we have not had survivors of the undead’s magical weaponry make it to our facility before now. The spells could have prevented the infection from causing irreparable damage, or they merely delayed the pony’s death long after the damage was done.”
Elysia shook her head in disagreement. “Hold on there,” she began to say, “he seemed pretty steady on his feet -hooves- back on the flagship after he took them. You saw how he was when we were back at the dock!”
“Like I said, we simply do not know how the spells work in the field,” the doctor replied. “And we won’t know until we investigate the state of his… internal affairs.”
Elysia fell quiet at that. Now it made sense why they were so quick to rig Phineas up to the transport. This wasn’t a matter of medical assessment; they were taking him straight to surgery. The rangers did not say anything to the doctors after that. They only listened as the medics chatted amongst themselves, saying all kinds of technical terms and passing handheld displays around to keep check on the pony’s vital signs.
After a while, they reached one of the G.S.O’s medical facilities. It had a large sign on the wall over its wide lobby entrance. The doctors wheeled Phineas through the lobby, past the front desk that had no one on station and through the set of doors leading into the sensitive areas. One of them stopped in front of the door to address the two rangers.
“I’m afraid we can’t let you past…”
“Did you really think we expected to be in the same room as you all as you cut him open alive?” Alikir asked with a slightly harsh edge to his tone.
“…It’s a formality…”
Elysia raised a hand in a gesture of good will and understanding. “We won’t be a bother.” She nudged Alikir in the leg. “Right?”
“Yeah, sure. We’ll wait in the unsupervised lobby, keep people from trying to swipe-“ Elysia nudged him again. He inhaled sharply to convey his annoyance and grumbled, “Yeah. We’ll wait out here.”
The medic nodded. “Our work might take a while… might be an hour… might be a lot longer than that. Depends on the pony’s condition… we’ll do our best if things aren’t…” trailing off, the doctor stopped speaking and with those last words; the doctor stepped through the doorway. With a rush of air, it closed, leaving the two rangers standing alone. The tall one sighed.
“We could go inform Uolix of our mission results, seeing as the Federation pony is going to be busy for a while,” Elysia suggested.
Alikir nodded. “Would give us something to do in the meantime, and the sooner she gets our report the better. We’ve delayed it long enough following them here.”
Without further pause, Elysia made her way out of the lobby area with Alikir by her side. She walked down the hallway a few yards until she reached a terminal, where she started typing away at the holographic keypad.
“Commander Uolix?” she asked after a line was established with the situation observatory. “This is Space Ranger Ryagna-Elysia and-“
“She is not on duty,” one of the observatory officers said, cutting her off. “Redirecting this link to her personal comms.”
“Thank you-“ Elysia replied, but by then the link had been terminated and was in the process of being rerouted. Before she could have made a comment about it to Alikir, she heard Uolix’s voice.
“Space Ranger?”
“Ah, Commander!” said the small ranger, “the Federation pony is now in medical care and we are free to share our mission results. Are you still available for a meeting?”
“Yes,” Uolix responded. “You are due at my quarters with utmost urgency. I will speak to you when you arrive.”
“Understood, Commander.” The comm-link was closed off and Elysia stepped back from the computer. “You heard her,” she said to Alikir, “utmost urgency.”
***
The two made great haste to Uolix’s personal chambers. They ascended several levels of the station’s decks, walked down numerous passages and waited on many lifts until they came to her door. When they arrived, they noted that it looked no different from any other of the doors they passed on their way there. There was a black plate on the door and the rangers’ Universal Translators sprawled the inscription across their HUDS in their respective written languages: “Commander’s Quarters”.
Alikir pressed the plate with a finger. A split-second later, the door split apart. The two rangers walked through into the Commander’s room rigidly, turned to face the Shu’badi opposite them on the other side of the room and saluted. Uolix pressed a button at her terminal and closed her door before facing the two rangers.
“At ease,” she told them. “And speak freely.”
Elysia and Alikir relaxed. The small ranger said, “What we believe to be the leader of the undead faction has been eliminated. Its vessel of command has been destroyed.”
“In addition,” Alikir began to say, “it seems that without their leader, the undead have turned against each other. It could have been an isolated incident and we did not spend any extensive time to observe their behavior, but in the final stage of the mission where we crippled the flagship’s Hex-core we found that the soldiers there were attacking each other.”
Uolix nodded and hummed thoughtfully. “So the mission was a success, then?” she asked. The two rangers nodded. “So what happened to Phineas?”
“He… was taken off guard by our intervention,” Elysia replied. “And the enemy took advantage of that moment… we don’t know what this means yet but the medics are currently carrying out surgery on him to find out.”
“Ah,” Uolix replied simply, mulling this over. “What were the circumstances like when you made the decision to act?”
“The Federation pony was outnumbered by a great sum, commander,” Elysia started to explain. “He would have been overwhelmed had we not shown ourselves.” She looked over to Alikir, who at that moment was crossing his arms.
“And at that time, their leader was not dead. Temporarily incapacitated, but not dead,” the ranger said.
“And this leader…” said the Commander, “could you describe it to me? Things it might have said… strange powers it might have displayed…?”
“It was… ugly,” Alikir deadpanned. “And it had several voices… like its mind was that of several people. It kept referring to itself as ‘we’…”
“As for strange powers,” Elysia began, “it had several. I believe we hadn’t even seen them all… it was distraught and angry. After making itself into a giant using the bodies of its underlings it started to rant at the pony about gods and then flew into a state of madness…” She started to shake her head at the images that flashed before her eyes.
Uolix nodded, not letting on that she was scrutinizing the rangers’ words. What she heard supported the things Phineas told her, and his warnings drew greater weight because of it. After a moment of thought, the Shu’badi asked one final question.
“How was the leader destroyed?”
There was an uncomfortable silence between the two rangers at first which made Uolix very worried, though she did not convey her uneasiness. After another moment though, Elysia was the one to speak. She cleared her throat and said,
“It melted, commander.”
Uolix cocked her head. ”Melted? How?" She did not voice her confusion and instead simply nodded once more. “I request a detailed documented log of this excursion, Space Rangers. You may report to the observatory chamber to assemble it and submit it for review. Dismissed.”
The two rangers saluted and Uolix opened the door for them. They stepped out of her room and the leader started to dissect what she was told, moving away from her terminal and floating over to her room’s window. She raised an Arcane-Manipulator and with a pulse of light, the vented shades opened, allowing the light from the distant star to flood the room.
Uolix stared out into space as she thought, her view being that of the rings extending far into the distance, rippling shadows and glimmering lights defining each individual band until they simply blended together the further out they were.
***
Swelling shadow gave way to blinding light. With his first conscious thoughts, Phineas assumed he was coming out of stasis and cringed a little. When did he put himself in to the pod? He should have remembered that, as he always had. Every time he put himself to rest in the stasis pod, his perception of realty paused, with his memories picking up immediately upon being awoken. Why was that not the case now? He worried that his sanity was beginning to drastically slip away from him, to the point where he was losing his grasp on his memories –the only things that were undeniably his and his alone.
He opened his eyes and was greeted with the darkened visages of numerous beings staring down at him from his sides. Reflexively, Phineas tried to scramble away from them but quickly found that he had been restrained. His forelegs and hind legs were strapped down. Several tubes of various colored liquids were leading out of his body to all kinds of machinery around him, secured to his hide by needles and clamps.
“What is this?” Phineas demanded to know, his voice sounding hoarse.
The doctors stepped back from the operating table, a few of them beginning to congratulate each other while others simply walked away, leaning against the room’s walls, visibly relieved. One of them stayed, however.
“We needed to examine your body for traces of the impure magic that you were assaulted with,” the doctor replied.
Phineas looked down at himself. His body was bare and he noted that it had been a long time since he actually saw his own coat like this – since he laid eyes on his own cutie mark, at that. He was unaccustomed to being out of his Federation barding and looked around the white room for his black suit and orange oversuit. It did not take him long to locate his clothing for they stood out against the plain operating room, laid out on a nearby counter along with his toolboxes.
He looked back to the doctor and asked, “So what’s the verdict? Why’d you stick me with so much stuff?”
“You had quite a concentration of harmful magical energy within you. By all means, you should have died seconds after being hit by it. We think your suit’s bio-sustaining technology might have kept your vital functions active long enough for the ranger’s stabilizing spell to work but it is unlikely to say the least,” said the medic.
“Some of us are just too stubborn to die,” said Phineas.
“Whatever the case may be,” the doctor started saying, “you are quite fortunate. A sustained, concentrated form of the stabilizer spell was able to reverse the damage done to you in its entirety. It is a remarkable result.”
“There’s plenty remarkable about this whole thing,” Phineas replied. “But I don’t have time to appreciate them all. I need to speak with the Commander, so I’d appreciate it if you would get these things out of me.” He gestured with his snout to the tubes.
“But you just underwent surgery!” the doctor replied, taken aback by the pony’s indifference to the situation.
“If there are any complications, there’s a stasis pod for me to go to. I appreciate you and your team over there saving my life and all, but the fact of the matter is we are in a critical period of time and it is paramount that I speak to your commander!” Phineas retorted.
”For any of us to let you go would be a neglect of our duty!”
“And for me to stay here would be a neglect of mine!” Phineas responded hotly.
“We cannot have a patient just leave after going through such an invasive procedure-“
The pony growled, a scowl on his face. “If you don’t let me go willingly, then I suppose I have to leave by force!”
“And how do you intend to do that?” the doctor inquired, looking as amused as it sounded.
With that, Phineas stretched his neck and bit at one of the tubes. Before he could do something brash, the doctor said, “Enough, enough! Alright!”
***
Phineas left the medical wing, suited up in his battle scarred armor. The doctors were quick to disconnect him from their machines and release him from the operating clamps. They left him to ready himself and watched him leave, some of them clearly unhappy about it. But what could they say to stop the Federation pony, especially when he was more than willing to back up his stubborn words with force? He didn’t like having to be a bully to get his way, but sometimes the right thing to do wasn’t the most favorable option. ”I feel fine, regardless,” he thought, trying to rationalize his choice. ”They are just worrying about nothing,” though he knew full well that their concern was well placed.
Phineas spent roughly half an hour making his way to the situation observation chamber. The route was something he’d gotten somewhat used to after going down it a few times, so it did not take him as long as before to reach its doors. It was just that it was a long walk and he did not trust his jetpack to work without him giving it a thorough onceover, and he did not want to chance running should there be actual complications after his unplanned doctor’s visit.
… So it was understandable that when he found out that Uolix was not on duty at the super projector and was in fact in her own room elsewhere in the station, he was more than a little irritated. The officers at their computers asked him why he wasn’t in a medical suite when he walked up the aisle and the Space Rangers were quite elated at his return, though sharing the same confusion as their peers, but he couldn’t spare the time to engage any of them.
“I’m fine!” he assured them all as he started to make his way back to the elevator.
The others watched him go for a short while before they went back to their jobs, the officers keeping a diligent watch over system-space and the rangers going back to completing their mission report. Phineas rode the lift up, lamenting his lack of boosters all the way.
After yet another trek through the station, with many consultations with his holo-map, Phineas arrived at the door to Uolix’s room. He raised his PDA and saw in its sphere of light, “Commander’s Quarters” in a light blue text.
”This is it,” he thought as he deactivated the display. He eyed the door, looking for some way to announce his presence outside the Commander’s room. The door looked like any other door, however, and the ones he used regularly were for public access. He doubted he could use his PDA or some nearby terminal to open it.
”When all else fails…?” Phineas raised a hoof and knocked against the door a few times. There was no immediate response. He knocked on the door again, once, twice; before he could knock a third time the door slid apart.
The stallion entered cautiously, knowing that he would have been annoyed with an unannounced intrusion if he were in the Commander’s place; especially if he was in the middle of something important, but he was convinced what he had to say was well worth the interruption.
“Uolix?” Phineas asked.
“Phineas,” Uolix replied without looking at him directly. She closed the door then drifted away from her computer, stopping at the window again. “I was told of your… heated insistence on being released from medical early and your short time in the observatory…”
“Then you knew I was coming?” Phineas asked, cocking his head. ”Not as unannounced as I suspected…”
“I didn’t need the others messaging me to know you would be coming here, Phineas. But they gave me an idea as to when you would be making your appearance.”
“Fair enough.”
“I have already spoken to the space rangers and they are currently making a formal mission report. Now that you are here,” Uolix said, slowly turning her gaze in his direction, “what is it that you have to say?”
“Things are more complicated than I anticipated.” Phineas joined her at the window.
“More complicated?” Uolix responded, “How?”
“The undead leader… ‘The Immortal’ as it called itself…” Phineas began to say, “when I first confronted it… it tried to take control of me.”
“What!?” Uolix snapped as she turned her body towards the armored pony, her mechanical arms rising up slightly as she got ready to defend herself.
“It failed!” Phineas exclaimed, waving a hoof dismissively. “I know it failed and it isn’t some act to establish a false sense of security.”
“How can you be so sure?” Uolix inquired warily.
“Because I broke the artifact it said the Star Terrors gave it, and afterwards it started talking about how they abandoned it.”
“So what has changed? The Star Terrors are still our ultimate enemy and we have to ensure that they are not able to meddle in our affairs ever again,” said Uolix.
“I… don’t think the Star Terrors are… unified, so to speak,” Phineas replied.
“What do you mean?”
Phineas took a deep breath and said, “The Iopteryx… it woke me up after prolonging the stasis I went into after fighting the chimera, of such I am certain. I have a feeling it is this interaction with the Iopteryx that made The Immortal’s magic fail… it failed because the Iopteryx did not allow me to become its slave.”
The pony shook his head and added, “If I’m right… that means a Star Terror saved me… for some reason I do not know, but I know enough to say the Iopteryx is not following some plan. That either means the Iopteryx is an enemy of its own kind… or that the Star Terrors as a whole are constantly fighting each other like this…”
Shocked into silence, Uolix considered Phineas’ theory, drawing it out to its logical conclusion. “… If the Star Terrors aren’t united that means these wars they start… they aren’t for the benefit of them all…”
“It’s for a select few, or a select individual wanting to become stronger than the rest, and the rest plot to stop them. It really is a cosmic game we’re caught in,” Phineas said. “The chimera supposedly tried to escape it by becoming a Star Terror itself but then… I happened. The Iopteryx happened…”
Uolix put a claw on his shoulder in a strangely endearing show of comradery. “The Iopteryx did not give you your fighting spirit though, and the Iopteryx cannot take it away,” she said, “your drive is the one thing it cannot manipulate. This is the truth for everyone alive strong enough to fight. This is the true strength of the Harmony.”
“They gain power by consuming the souls of warriors… as long as they keep getting support-“
“Then we will stop them!” Uolix interjected passionately. “The Harmony will see to it that to even the smallest association with the dark beasts of the stars will be a crime that only the most bold and foolish will even attempt. We will see to it that the hope of a future better than this one will trump any will to cause such pain and misery the likes of these horrible wars!”
Phineas turned his gaze outwards to the scenery outside of the Commander’s window, silent as his thoughts turned inwards."We can lose our way. We can falter and make mistakes, but in the end we are all alive, aren't we? We would help each other make something great before we tear each other apart to live in the ruins of the aftermath, right?"
The memory was a sobering one for the pony. The Shu’badi’s words invoked it, reminding him of his cause, the unshakable core that justified his rage. He fought because to do nothing else was unacceptable! And he wasn’t some tool to be used and cast aside! He was Phineas Startrot! No force of heaven and hell could take him and they would all be damned should they even try!
“Hope,” Phineas said, feeling a power from that word greater than any brute strength he could gather from his muscles. “Hope is what’s gonna kill the Star Terrors.”
“It is the greatest form of magic I know of,” Uolix said. “It keeps people with nothing left to live for living. It keeps soldiers with nothing left to fight for fighting.”
“Is hope the reason you can bear the burden of leadership?” Phineas responded.
“I have hope in the Harmony. In return, they have faith in me. Though I don’t know if victory is certain, or if I could have prevented any of the losses we have suffered, I know that we all need to stay as one if we are to stand any chance of survival,” said the Commander. “If we can do what so-called gods can’t, then that would be proof enough of our worth.”
Phineas nodded. “Then hope and harmony will be our salvation.”
With that, the conversation came to an end, the pony and Seapony looking out into the rings of the goliath world and past them into the far reaches of space.
-Epilogue-
The Harmony reappeared with a vengeance. The undead, gripped by the very chaos they unleashed upon the galaxy without a leader, stood no chance. Whereas defeats for the Harmony were absolute and horrific in the past, now small navies went up against armadas… and won.
It was not long until the deathless tide was ebbed and the survivors of the great galactic culling started the tentative effort to rebuild. With previously owned territories decimated beyond use, the Harmony converted its strongholds into spacefaring citadels, providing homes for millions displaced by the onslaught of war. Many strongholds combined through engineering genius and sheer will of those who inhabited them, become sprawling mega cities in space. In time, these metropolises blossomed across the stars, with the war-torn planets providing resources and jobs for those who gathered said resources.
The Harmony maintained peace and the newly formed Federation of Hope sought out the taint of the Star Terrors. The Space Ranger Corps was reformed, headed by the two which fought side by side with the Federation pony. Together, these factions were wards against the wretched evils that waited in the darkness.
***
The Federation personnel on site wore dark gray combat hardsuits with stripes of red and blue that decorated their sleek designs. Like the Space Ranger suits that preceded them, the Federation armor had sets accommodating all kinds of builds across the many denizens of the galaxy. A few Shu’badi soldiers hovered across the dusty terrain, using their adept magical skills to set up the prefabricated forward command posts in areas clear of rubble and debris. Humanoid sentinels stood on watch, rifles in hand, securing the operation zone’s perimeter. Even familiar Equestrians found a place in the new Federation, from ponies to dragons.
Spread out around the work site, small and medium sized mechs stood, while above several spacecraft hovered in the sky, all bearing the Federation insignia: a black circle ringed by white. An eclipse.
Alikir walked across the blackened ground to one of the command posts, a large gray dome with a spire rising ten feet above it which ended in a lookout platform occupied by three rifle wielding soldiers. There was a lot of gray with this division, he noted. Perhaps it was due to the reasoning that less vibrant colors made encampments less of a target. Maybe it was because the original Equestrian Federation had a penchant for gray in its designs. Alikir did not know the reason; he just knew that he would take the red and white of a ranger than the gray of Federation infantry any day.
The Space Ranger stepped through the ovular entrance into the post, seeing Elysia supervising a group of officers manning the communication equipment.
“The artifact has been confiscated,” Alikir said to her.
The small ranger nodded once and then said to the officers: “Contact the retrieval team.”
The officers started typing away at console keyboards, occasionally glancing up the holographic interface.
To Alikir, she said, “This operation was fast. What happened out there?”
“This time they just had their idol out in the open and they were doing some kind of… dance around it. It was strange…” Alikir replied.
“Wow. Was it really that easy?”
“Hard to believe, I know. But that’s what happened.”
“And what about the Federation pony?” Elysia inquired.
“He’s having a few words with their leader…” Alikir answered.
Several yards away, there was a structure cobbled together around the decently sized skeleton of a crashed necrolier cruiser. It was level on the ground, having sunk into the soil until only roughly half of it remained above the surface. The ship’s hull had metal beams jutting out of it and hanging from them were crudely made sheets made out of scrap metal plating covered with dark red, crusty runic writing. The sheets blew in the breeze rolling across the desolate wasteland of a planet, the plates scraping and jangling.
Inside was a somewhat large room that was mostly empty save for bins of garbage and other assortments of litter. The ceiling had gaps and holes, allowing beams of sunlight to shine into the murky hovel. A small squad of Federation infantry accompanied the armored stallion; they stood a few feet away behind him with the ends of their guns still glowing, magical vapor wafting out from them. On either side of the pony, piled up in heaps, were the bodies of the slain, undernourished and underdressed, dirty rags clinging to their starving frames.
Of all the things that called the necrolier home, dancing on the dirt floor around the golden jewel, only one remained living. And that one was currently being held by the furious pony by the neck, the yellow eyes of his helmet staring unblinkingly into the sunken eyes of the foul, imp-like creature.
“Hit me!” it rasped, the skin on its lips and nose peeling away, letting dark yellowish ichor ooze freely from its face. “The Great One relishes the pain of its faithful!”
“This is an interrogation, not a torture session,” Phineas reminded the twisted creature with a snarl. “Now I will ask again one last time… tell me… how did you get the item?”
“May you die in writhing anguish, and may you wish the same upon me!” the crazed creature screamed. It broke down into rapturous laughter, its bloodshot eyes going wide in its head.
With a strong shove, Phineas sent the abnormally skinny creature stumbling across the black dirt floor until it finally fell over on the far side of the room.
“Interrogation results: subject proved to be irrational beyond reason. No useful information was acquired.”
With a flick of his tail to one of the soldiers behind him, Phineas gave the order to execute the deranged creature, which continued laughing hysterically. Phineas turned away from it, making his way out of the room when he heard the high pitched, rapid screeching of the soldier’s rifle go off, promptly putting a stop to the cackling.
There was no sense in killing the cultists which embraced the ‘gifts’ granted to them on sight. It was Phineas’ way to at least attempt to learn something about the threat from them. But most of the time the effort proved fruitless.
But that didn’t stop him from trying, not as long as he had hope that there was a better find waiting for him in the future. Not as long as long as he lived to continue to parrying the blade of war. Though peace of mind was the cost of a warrior’s spirit, it was a cost Phineas was willing to pay. Regardless of the nights he found himself haunted by his greatest foes and his own inglorious deeds, the pony never lost sight of his priority. Thus was his pledge,
For the friends he robbed himself of having,
For the ones he hardly knew,
For the countless many who died to bring about this age of peace.
