Spring of Sky

Chapter One: The Trader and the Mercenary

Captains Log: 23456

Year:26488

Day:178

Distance Traveled: 2755 lightyears

/logstart/

“Vast”

“Dark”

“Dangerous”

“So many words, yet none describe space. The silent void which I dare to venture. Only my ship to accompany me, I stare out at the stars and see infinity, yet cannot describe what I view. To travel the stars, to explore, to meet, to wonder. I have done it all. Im old, too old. The brisk age of 78. Been a trader, merc, maper, pilot, gunner, and a dozen other jobs during my life. Too many.”

The old female voice starts a coughing fit, and the sound of something beeping flares up, only a whisper compared to the cough. The rustle of fabric and the jingle of metal is heard, then the sound of water being consumed. A few seconds pass until the voice starts up again.

“Damn radiations seeping through again. I ain’t got long now. Im crashed on some rock out in the Solis Zone, got no food or water left, airs fine, but Im near a old derelict Solar Empire frigate. Reactors cracked or somthin. Cargo is safe, Zicronium cases, radiation is nothing to it. Heh, always thought that the vacuum of space would be the end of me, now look, a million miles from anything, in a rust bucket I love, doomed to die with no one knowing. I wonder if my kids will care. Galix won’t, but im sure Iron will look for me, and Diamond will too if Iron does. Damn I miss you, and if your listening to this, I love you all, oh god what I would give to say that to you right now. I love you kids so much.”

The beeping intensifies, and cursing can be heard under the scream of the alarms. The sounds of buttons being pressed is amplified by numerous warning systems going off. The rumble of engines is heard over the sounds of yelling.

“I have to go but always know that I love you no matter what! Im going to a better place! Ill always and forever love you! I just cant say it enough! Star Shimmer sighing off!”

The recording ends and is replaced with static.

  ________________________________________________________________________________________________

The sounds of one of the cellist Octavia’s solo performances played smoothly in the background, a stark comparison to the bloody scene splayed before the speaker. The bodies of ponies lay on a growing pool of blood, their eyes staring empty into the once lavish room, now burnt and pocketed with holes.

At the back of the room, behind a lithian wood desk sat the last surviving member of the Lapis family, the third most powerful mob family in the galaxy. His name was Looping Lapis, a name that people feared. He was quite tall for a pony, and his slender hands played nervously on the gold medallion around his thin neck. He was skinny, but in no way frail, something ponies either learned quickly or regretted later. The suit he wore was of the highest quality, fitting his body like a glove. His eyes darted from the gun to its wielder in the doorway in a rhythmic fashion.

‘You wont get away with this” Looping said mater-of-factly

The figure in the doorway said nothing, only stared at him from behind a slate gray gas mask.

“Your gonna kill me or what?” his voice sounding worried

The figure lowered the large rifle, raised his arm and pointed at the medallion, tossed a small pouch onto the desk, and pointed at it.

“What? Y-y-you want my medallion?” his voice seeming to grow smaller.

The figure nodded, raising the gun again.

“But why wou-“ he was cut of by a large bang, a hole appearing mere inches from his head on the wall behind him.

Looping yelped and hesitantly removed the small gold jewelry piece, sliding it into the bag. The figure moved from the doorway, slowly walking to the desk. Now in better lighting, Looping could see that the figure was a male, around 6 feet tall, with a thick build, added onto by the combat armor he wore. The armor it self was rather simple, a shell of light but durable metal tarisium, painted slate gray with a band of orange going down the middle of the left shoulder pads. Underneath was an airtight bodysuit, grey with black where the shell connected. A bandolier looped around the body, filled with pouches and spare ammunition. The rifle he carried was about a meter in length, and shaped like a suitcase with a square chunk in the middle removed.

The stallion picked up the pouch and turned to leave, but stopped about half way to the door, pulled something form his belt, and placed it onto the floor. Several beeps emanate from the device, then goes silent. The figure begins walking again until a voice stopped him.

“Who paid you? Im going to die, at least let me know who.”

The figure turned, and spoke the last words Looping would ever hear.

“The highest bidder.” droned a metallic voice.

With that, the mercenary left, leaving the last surviving member of the Lapis family alone, afraid, and surrounded by the bodies of the dead, only to soon to become one of them. The last thing he noticed was that he couldn’t hear Octavia’s music anymore.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

The sounds of classical floated through wasn’t halls and rooms of the Phosphorus Sky, giving the ship a feeling of homeliness and age. The engine hummed a quite tune, the sound quite compared to the snores of the sleeping crew. The only one awake stood on the bridge of the ship, looking out into space. He saw the station that he and his team had entered not two hours ago, floating peacefully high above the planet. He saw the ships going too and from the station. He saw the planet that sat far below the station. He saw the endless cosmos that he inhabited.

This is where he felt at home. This is where he made his living. This is where he was born. This is where he would die. This is what he was good at.

And he didn’t mind that one bit.

“Heh, I knew I’d find you up here”

The voice came from the Sky’s first mate, Steam Stampede. He was a short unicorn pony from the Polis Sector, with red fur and a short cropped hazelnut mane, deep orange eyes and  a thin scar running down from his left ear to his cheek. Raised on a high gravity plant farm, he was extraordinarily smart, could lift a Cyphrixian Bull, and could kick in a door made of titanium. But his most prominent feature was his love for machines, and after joining the New Lunar Republics Engineering corps, he quickly climbed the ranks to a officer, even serving on the flagship Archimedes.

“Your gonna kill your self Iron, you haven’t slept for the past two days.”

Iron just grunted, the bags under his eyes seeming to grow with the motion. The ships auto pilot adjusted its course, causing the worn out captain to stumble. Steam quickly rushed to catch his best friend, grabbing him as if he was a feather. Steam began to drag the dreary captain out of the room, Iron making no movements to stop him. The time it took to get to the captains room seemed to go on forever for Iron, the world around him bending and warping, sounds echoing around him.

Steam knew that the captain was worried, he had seen it before on Trexis, when they were caught in the crossfire between Solar Empire Centurions and Republic Lunite Shock Troopers. He wasn’t worried for himself, but for the crew. He knew each one by name, and they looked up too him when the going got rough, and it often did. They were all soldiers of fortune, and they answered to no one but them selves and their brothers in arms.

Iron himself was a pegasus, tall and muscular from years of fighting and traveling. Dark brown fur and emerald green eyes, with a deep gray mane. He had scars and wounds across his body, many so old that they were barely visible. His wings, earlier hidden by the airtight combat armor, now showed, muscular and proud. they were like any other wings, accept the tips were black instead of brown.

Steam opened the door to the captains room and took in the interior. The walls were lined with Equestrian Oak, giving the feeling of a house instead of a ship. Trophies adorned the walls, ranging from weapons to mounted heads, to pictures of Iron and his squad from when he served as a Lunitar in the NLR, a title he kept even though he was offered promotions several times.

Dragging Iron to his bed, removing his boots, covering him, and leaving took almost no time at all. The captain was sleeping before he hit the pillow