It was day 738 aboard the Luna as Twilight got out of bed. With her back straight and hooves stretched towards the ceiling, she let out a long and satisfying yawn.
“Good morning, Celestia.”
“Good morning, Twilight,” a reverberating voice responded.
Twilight stepped onto the floor and tossed her mane, freeing it from its bed-flattened state. “Celestia,” she said, addressing the ship’s computer. “Where are we?”
The voice responded again. “We’re currently two light-hours away from Eranin Four, bearing a trajectory eighty-eight point seven nine two degrees away from the planet. Gravitational slingshot will be minimal. Expected time remaining in journey: one thousand two hundred sixty-one days.”
Twilight walked over to the wall of her quarters and flicked a switch. The four sets of shutters that covered one side of the room all turned and let the light of Eranin’s star pour in. The shutters rose mechanically, stacking themselves above the window. With a final click they locked in place.
Holding a hoof to shade her eyes from the brightness of Eranin’s star, she took in the black expanse. “How long until we’re closest to Eranin Four?”
“Our current heading will be orthogonal to it in two days, four hours, and fifteen minutes,” the ship’s computer replied. “Shall I make a reminder?”
“Yes, please,” Twilight said, turning away from the window.
Ten years her journey would last. Five one way and another five to return. Having graduated top of the academy, she had quickly proven herself as the brightest unicorn to grace the space program in the past twenty years. Naturally, when they began planning the longest deep-space voyage in the program’s history, her name had been the one to come up.
Glancing back at the chaotic state she had left her sheets in, Twilight ran a hoof through her mane. “Celestia, could you send Spike up to reset the bed?” she asked as she headed to the room’s metal doors.
“I’ve let him know and he’s on his way,” the A.I. replied.
“Thank you.” The entrance slid open as Twilight approached, whirring shut after she passed through. As she descended the stairs towards the deck, Spike came rushing past her, its metal claws clanging loudly against the grated steps.
“Good morning, Twilight!” the robot shouted as it ran past her, eager to set about its given task.
“Morning, Spike,” Twilight greeted with a smile.
Spike’s mouth screen displayed a smile in return, briefly, before he continued up the stairs to her room.
Once she reached the bottom of the stairs and Spike disappeared into her room, Twilight’s smile deflated and she let out a sigh. She plodded down the corridor, turning left once she reached the kitchen.
“Celestia, what’s for breakfast today?”
“Today’s breakfast is cereal with milk and apple chips.”
Twilight groaned. “Is there something that doesn’t use powdered milk? Something with jam or honey, maybe?”
“As the ship’s computer, it’s my responsibility to ensure passengers aboard maintain a healthy, balanced diet, using the statistics and information I’ve been given.”
“Yeah, I know,” Twilight said, sighing.
“If it’s any consolation, after dinner there will be frozen ice cream.”
A bit of Twilight’s frown disappeared at hearing the name of her favorite food. A door before her slid open, and she stepped into the kitchen. As the door shut behind her, she was greeted by a robot identical to the one that had passed her on the stairs.
“Hello, Twilight!” it said, smiling at her.
“Hey, Spike,” she said in return.
“I’m almost done making the bed upstairs, and afterward I’ll take the sheets down for a wash.” After ducking into the cupboards, he emerged with a sealed bag of powdered milk. “Would you like me to make you breakfast?”
“Sure. That’d be great!” Twilight replied, taking a seat atop a stool on the opposite side of the laminate counter.
There were four Spikes total aboard the Luna. They communicated with one another wirelessly, essentially acting as a single being. The name “Spike” was an acronym for “Service Partner for Interstellar Keeping and Entertainment”. The A.I. was one of the most advanced personality simulations made to date, she had been told. Simply put: he entertained and cleaned.
“Spike, tell me a joke.”
Spike spoke as he mixed the milk and poured cereal. “I used to have a smoking problem, but since we moved further away from the star, my circuits have cooled down.”
Twilight giggled. “How did you come up with that one?”
“I estimated that the absurdity of a robot smoking, the relatability of the joke’s topic, and the misdirection and double meaning would cause the statement to be humorous.” He bent down into a cupboard and came back up with a sealed bag of dehydrated apple slices. “Also we ran out of cigarettes about three months back and it’s all I can think about.” He slid a bowl of cereal and a bowl of apple chips across the counter to her.
Twilight levitated a spoonful of the cereal into her mouth. “Now I know there were never any cigarettes on board,” she said, cheeks puffed up with cereal. “Celestia would have never allowed it.”
Spike shrugged. “True enough.”
As Twilight put another spoonful of cereal in her mouth and chewed, she knocked on the counter for Spike’s attention. “Could you open Strange Gravitational Anomalies?” she asked once her mouth was less full.
“To where you were last time?” he asked. Twilight nodded. The screen displaying Spike’s eyes went blank briefly, before becoming replaced by a pale blue light that projected a page of text onto the counter.
Twilight finished the rest of her meal while reading in silence. After finishing her food and the page she was currently on, she got out of her seat and stretched. “Thank you, Spike. That’s all for now.”
“As you wish, Twilight,” Spike said, bowing low. His robotic voice lacked the sarcastic, playful tone he was likely going for.
Twilight snorted as she left the room. “I’m heading to the bridge in case there are any urgent cleaning matters you find yourself needing to bring my attention to.”
“Burn one uniform while ironing and you never hear the end of it,” Spike said.
Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “You set it on fire.”
Spike’s display eyes blinked, and his lower screen displayed a smile. “Any inadequacies I may have, I blame on my programming.”
Twilight rolled her eyes as the door shut behind her. Metal feet came clanking down the stairs, and with them, the Spike who had been cleaning her room, carrying an armful of dirty sheets stacked up past his head.
“Hello, again, Spike.”
“Hello, Twilight. I took the liberty of cleaning your quarters while I was up there. I’m just getting to the laundry now.”
A grimace tugged the corners of Twilight’s mouth. “Did you happen to put the books on the floor I had left open to very specific pages back on their shelves?”
“Yep! All back in order!” Spike said with a grin on his display.
Twilight hung her head and sighed. She didn’t have a single page number memorized. “Thanks, Spike.”
“No problem!” Spike said cheerfully, continuing past her with the laundry to the lower floors.
Dragging herself down the corridor, Twilight made it to the bridge. The door slid open to reveal Spike, standing at attention.
“Captain on the bridge!” he announced. He paused, looking around. “Oh... I guess it’s just the two of us.”
Twilight’s lips twitched in a slight smile. “Actually, Spike, I’d like a bit of time alone.”
“I’ll be right outside if you need me,” Spike said.
Twilight nodded, and as she stepped onto the bridge, he stepped out. The door slid shut and finally she was alone.
Taking a seat in her captain’s chair, she turned it using her magic to face the controls. The Luna’s interface lay above and below a set of narrow windows looking out into space. Light from Eranin’s star glared off Luna’s metal plates into the cockpit.
“Celestia, shutters, please.”
A series of metal plates descended from above the viewport, scrolling down until they were in place before rotating shut. Darkness filled the cockpit. The only source of light was Luna’s interface.
Twilight closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Celestia, play video: Goodbye.”
A blue, hologramatic light flickered to life. Briefly it displayed a three-dimensional cube spinning above the dashboard. Then, after a second, the video played. It opened to a close-up of Rainbow Dash’s face.
“Has it started?” Fluttershy asked from a distance, her head poking out to the side of Rainbow Dash’s mane.
Rainbow Dash turned back to her. “Shh! It’s running!” she said, before flying out of the way of the camera.
She joined Fluttershy along with the others: Applejack, Rarity, and Pinkie Pie.
“Who’s going to start?” Pinkie Pie asked in a stage whisper.
“I am, Pinkie, now shush! We’re supposed to be making a video!” Applejack answered. She faced forward and closed her eyes to reset the scene. When she opened them, she looked into the camera, gave it a grin, and waved.
“Hey, Twilight. It’s us, your friends. It’s about a week before your big day and before we say goodbye.” Her smile faltered. “Um, somepony from the space program asked us if we wanted to make a video. Said something about how it might help keep you sane.” She grinned and chuckled, but the smile vanished, it seemed, as what she said sunk in.
Rarity stepped forward. “I think what Applejack is trying to say, dear, is sort of a… sort of a, um…” She looked to Fluttershy for help.
“A second goodbye?” Fluttershy asked.
All five of them cast their eyes towards ground, their ears and tails drooping.
“Yes,” Rarity said, eyes fixed on the floor. “Quite right. A second goodbye.”
“The truth is,” Pinkie Pie blurted, stepping forward, “we’re all really super-duper sad to see you go, but we haven’t been able to tell you because...” She sniffled as tears started to pour down her cheeks. “Because…!”
Rainbow Dash sighed. “—Because we don’t want to hold you back from your dream. We all knew how excited you were when you got selected for the mission—you told all of us the same day.”
“And that’s why none of us have had the heart to tell you just how much we’re all going to miss you,” Fluttershy said, rubbing her shoulder and looking away from the camera.
The five of them all glanced at one another. A moment of silence hung in the air.
“Ten years…” Applejack finally said. “That’s a darned long time.”
Rainbow Dash let out a chuckle. “Long enough that most of us will probably achieve our own dreams while you’re out there.”
“Who knows where we’ll be when you get back,” Pinkie Pie said. “I could be grand chancellor of the world by then!”
“Pinkie, that’s not a real job,” Rainbow Dash said, sighing.
A smile split across Twilight’s lips, the light of hologram shimmering off her eyes.
“You never know, it could be.”
“W-we just want to let you know,” Fluttershy blurted. “Whether we’ve reached our dreams, started families of our own, or moved someplace away by the time you get back, we’ll all be here.” Rainbow Dash laid a wing over Fluttershy’s shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “All of us will be back in Ponyville when you get back, and we can talk about everything that’s happened in that time, so, um…”
“We’ll be waiting,” Rarity finished, smiling at Fluttershy and giving her a nod. “All of us will be waiting for you, dear. So please…” She stared into the camera, eyes shimmering.
“Hurry home.”
The hologram display cut out, replaced by the flickering light of three simple words.
End of Video.
With the recording finished, Twilight sunk in her chair and let out a shaky breath. She sat there, staring at those three words.
“Celestia,” she said, voice cracking. “Where are we?”
“We’re currently two light-hours away from Eranin Four, bearing a trajectory eighty eight point nine eight one degrees away from the planet. Gravitational slingshot will be minimal. Expected time remaining in journey: one thousand two hundred sixty days.”
Twilight glanced around Luna’s interface. The corners of her eyes stung. “Estimated time for return trip?”
For once, Celestia didn’t immediately answer. “As the ship’s computer,” she said, “it’s my responsibility to ensure passengers aboard maintain a healthy, balanced state of mind, using the statistics and information I’ve been given.”
Twilight’s eyes widened slightly at receiving an answer other than the one she expected. She rubbed her snout, sniffling.
“This may be a stretch to say, but I believe this is similar to how the emotion known as ‘concern’ works. Spike seems to agree with my analysis, as such.”
The door to the bridge slid open.
“Hey, Twilight?” Spike asked, standing outside the door.
Twilight’s chair swivelled around with a push of her magic as she rubbed the sides of her eyes. “Yeah, Spike?”
“I was just wondering if you need me. If not, I can continue waiting outside…”
A smile spread across Twilight’s lips as the stinging at the corners of her eyes faded. “Thank you, Spike. I think today is a bit of an off day for me.”
“I sometimes have off days. That’s when I recharge my batteries.”
Twilight chuckled and climbed down off her seat. After walking over to him, she gave him a pat on the head. “You might be right. Maybe I just need to recharge my batteries." Passing by him, Twilight started towards the ship’s library. “Celestia?”
“Yes, Twilight?”
“Could you have Spike prepare some tea and bring it down to the library?”
“Of course, Twilight.”
“Also…” She paused and halted. She glanced back at Spike, then at the ship’s walls. “Thank you. Both of you.”
Spike pumped a fist in the air. “No problem!”
“It is our pleasure,” Celestia replied.
Twilight felt her smile grow as she turned down the stairs. The corridor ahead of her was still empty, but somehow it was less empty than before.
