Inquiry

"3... 2... 1... Liftoff!" The announcer boomed into the rocket complex's speaker system. He quickly flicked off the microphone, knowing that he had just made the last countdown on an Earth space center.

To say the least, it had thoroughly disappointed him. To know that he just said the last words that the Earth would ever hear of space launching with no one but a pilot to listen was a letdown. He knew the pilot well of course, he was a friend from his early elementary days, off for his last mission under NASA's innovative iron fist before retirement. Jebediah Nicholson. The boy who peed himself in front of the teacher. Jebediah Nicholson. The last man to leave Earth on a government funded rocket.

Rockets had finally become obsolete. The recent development of short-range warp drives and basic (if not slightly unstable) teleportation devices had proven conventional method of reaching orbit clunky and inefficient.

The announcer was not just an announcer however. He was not a simpleton paid to repeat numbers. He, ironically enough, was the head of "Lifeblood of Inquiry" construction team, Andrew Holt. He was to head up in a space crane in 20 minutes to oversee the pieces all click into place on the chassis that had been sent up 2 days prior.

He kicked back in his chair and sighed, sipping his hot coffee mug as nostalgia flowed through him; until the admiral would bark at him to get on the crane. I'm going to miss this chair, he thought with a small chuckle.

The princess of the night looked into her sky again, unsatisfied. There were never enough stars to illuminate her beautiful night so that her subjects could enjoy it. She sighed, knowing that while she was loved and respected, her night never was. She could move every star in the sky, all of them but one. A small, insignificant little yellow dot near her very own constellation. "The Nightmare" they called it. Her constellation was her shame.

It was a bitter reminder that she kept in place to remember that she should never let her envy get the best of her. For the better lives and prosperity of her subjects, she submitted her very own self to emotional torture.

But she never understood why that star was out of her reach, her grasp. It never moved, in all its thousands of years. And it confused her. Sometimes, if she looked hard enough, it would flicker with the silhouettes of giant arrows and sharpened rectangular prisms. Always an enigma, that one.

That very star had been there since the beginning of the world. It stood vigilant, ever flamboyant in its warm yellow light. It was proud of something. Something that even its ancestors gave creation to. And the sisters never had a clue.

The princess of the sun stood by her sister once more.

"Sister dear, what seems to be the problem?" The heavenly white pony asked in her divine voice.

"The star, again." Luna muttered.

"Luna, you need to stop dwelling on such things. There's nothing we can do about it, and it has never posed any threat, any trouble. Why does it bother you so?" She finished, quizzically.

"It spoke to me last night." She simply stated.

"What do you mean, it spoke to you?" Celestia

"She told me her name."

"Her...? Luna, are you su--"

"Yes, sister. Her name is Sol." Luna interrupted quickly. "Her mother gave her a gift; a family heirloom that had gone on nearly 4 generations. And she is proud, mocking us." Luna bitterly continued.

"...what is it?"

"I've not a clue." The princess of the night somberly concluded.

"Andrew, I don't give two damns if it's your last launch. I don't care if your mopey ass is crying. You are to be up there, monitoring the construction of the salvation of the human race. But instead, you're down here, kicking back and drinking coffee. Get the fuck up there. ASAP," Andrew's communicator roared.

Swiftly jumping to his feet, he took his leisurely time walking to the pod built into the wall. Once he stood inside, he vigorously slammed on a green button, before feeling as if he was stretched into spaghetti.

He reappeared, thousands of meters above the planet that was slowly losing its color. Looking out the armored pod window, he sighed, knowing that the great, luscious green fields that previously occupied the planet had been replaced with thousands of shades of gray and beige. He quickly repositioned the pod with the RCS thrusters to face a massive behemoth of a starship.

Pulling a communicator off the the pod wall, he pushed a small button as he began to speak.

"Chassis sideplate teams A12 through D44, align your magnets. All of you, double time! The admiral's in a shitty mood," He grinned, knowing that he was at the helm of "the salvation of the human race."

"Oh, and Jebediah," he quickly added, "I know that you're just supposed to be part of the construction team, but uh... I could slip your name into the crew sheet if you want," the foreman concluded with a smirk plastered on his face as he released the button and put it back into its rightful place.