New Canterlot! A space station of such monumental size that the equine mind can barely comprehend its existence. Three main megadomes house entire mountain ranges, lakes and rainforests, each one enclosed in a shell of hyperglass that weaves the light into a perfect blue sky. At night, the sun dims through the screen until it appears as a great golden moon, a coin resting on a sheet of purple silk, surrounded by a million tiny diamonds.
It stands as a testament to the dreams of equinity. Much of New Canterlot is pure pastoral beauty. Briny seas brim with imported seaweeds, and fishing villages float on their shores. Pegasi flit from cloud to cloud on augmented wings through air so crisp it crunches, over little towns on Mount Saddleback that glitter with lantern-light. Whole dwellings are built into colossal, hundred-foot redwoods. Birds of paradise preen and sing, and nanite trails swim through crystal streams.
The edges of the domes, and the thousand winding, domed valleys that connect them, reflect the civilisation and sophistication of ponykind. A million vacuum trains and teleport junctions run through New Canterlot like a capillary network. The edges hold dwellings of unparalleled density and comfort. Apartment blocks house tens of thousands, vertical pleasure gardens stand as the envy of any old-world perfumer, hockey fields thrum with laughing foals, and dazzling arcades warp with twisting gravity. Data cables and transport tubes run through artificial cliffs in the valleys, and barges transport goods across the water. Foals play in the rivers as robotic lifeguards scan their heat signatures from on high.
Below lie the Undersides, the crust of the city. It houses living space for millions, factories which supply entire star systems, commercial docking stations that dwarf the great cities of the old worlds in size and scope. Refugee quarters are packed with desperate immigrants from the harsh regions of the Beyond, smuggler gangs who live dodging lawbots and rivals alike, ponies waiting desperately for visa approval, millions of creatures of all races desperate to make a better life for themselves. Kitchen-warehouses cook up gourmet scrambled eggs by the ton, delivered by unicouriers and pegaswoopers for the brunchtime rush, while griffons and diamond dogs nibble furtively in carnie restaurants with faded names and tinted windows.
Old Canterlot is the diamond, the crown jewel of the Equestrian Empire. Rein’s Reach is the gilded wingtip, proof of ponykind’s ability to thrive in the farthest-flung places in the galaxy. Saddleaire is the silken cloak, the exemplar of luxury and comfort.
New Canterlot is the Many-Coloured Place. It is the gate between the ten-thousand worlds of ponykind. Eighty million here live out lives of happiness and security undreamed of in centuries past.
Onto this shining world stepped Space Princess Luna. Scion of a fading race, bounty hunter and former reaver, bringer of justice and desperate atoner. She of great strength and wit, dark-coated and bold, her blossoming joys matched only by her terrible woes. She had laid low the Star Drakes, saved ten-thousand colonists from the burning seas of Liath Macha, banished the space pirates from Lariat IV, and had now returned to New Canterlot once more.
As she left her craft and came into the bustling spaceport, she activated her companion AI.
“ABACUS,” she said, “where can Twilight Sparkle be found?”
ABACUS replied, “I have scanned the city’s news reports and administrative bulletins, and calculate a ninety-percent chance that Twilight Sparkle is at her post in the City Administratum, with a ten-percent margin of error.”
Luna nodded, and took a transport tube to the foothills of the Canterhorn Mountain, where birds flitted from the conifer trees to the marble buildings of the City Administratum. The Administratum was a complex built into the mountain itself, a graceful thing of white marble, doric columns topped by sculpted pediments. She found Twilight Sparkle’s office inside the Department of Friendship, and was bade inside by a secretary.
Behind the desk sat a purple unicorn, whose eyes burned with curiosity and intelligence. She was Twilight Sparkle, genius, polymath and teacher, patron of the sciences and general advisor to the City Council. Her eyes widened in shock when she saw of Luna’s approach.
“Fair Twilight,” said Luna, her voice a sultry contralto, “fairest of the fair, how do you fare?” She took one of the unicorn’s hooves in her own, and placed a small kiss on the fetlock.
“Fairly well, I think,” said Twilight with a soft grin. She swallowed, and spoke again: “Space Princess Luna, I did not think I would see you so soon. I dared not hope I would see you before many years had passed, in fact.”
“It would be a dagger in my heart to be apart from you for so long, and so I have returned,” said Luna simply. “There is no longer a purpose to my self-imposed exile, not since the events on Thrace V, and I would do harm to those I hold dear by maintaining it. More recently, the tiresome business in the Horsehead Nebula has left me in dear need of a respite.”
“And of all the million shining wonders that this galaxy holds, you chose New Canterlot?”
Luna smiled, and brushed the tip of a hoof against Twilight’s cheek. “And why would I not? New Canterlot has a great many wonderful sights and sounds. The pleasure bars, the meltwater streams, Old-World hayfries... not to mention old colleagues and friends, and lovers...”
Twilight’s eyes shone as she looked into Luna’s. “It would be my pleasure to accommodate you, Princess. Based on your past services to the city, I can certainly provide you lodging in a penthouse in Bubblegum Spire, should you wish it.”
“I would be honored,” said Luna. “Perhaps a tour, from a prominent city official?” she added with a wink.
Twilight blushed further, and looked down at calendar. “I would love to, but I cannot until next week—” she doubled-checked her calendar, “—on Threeday at noon.”
“I shall anticipate it dearly,” said Luna. She paused, as if remembering something. “I will admit, I did not come here solely on pleasure. I also wished to know if you had any matters to keep my hooves occupied. I intend to be here for some time, and it would bring dubious honor to spend it all drinking, gambling and telling tales.”
Twilight considered this for a moment, and then turned to the light-pads strewn across her desk. After some telekinetic manipulation, she lifted a holo-file from her computers and transferred it to ABACUS. “I do have something to look into, as a matter of fact,” said Twilight. “I’ve just given you the dossier for the Broker, a notorious industrial spy. Shortly after you left for the Horsehead Nebula, he stole the program code for the Black Keys, a next-generation law enforcement weapon. Within hours, the code was on the exonet and a four-billion space-bit product half a decade in the making became worthless. The company that manufactured the Black Keys folded within days, and a dozen different traders became impossibly rich from betting on their failure.”
Pages from the dossier lit up the peripherals of Luna’s holo-vision. “Interesting. Do you have a lead, fair Twilight?”
“Fancy Pants Fabricators. The Broker has stolen more ship designs than can be named, and Fancy Pants Fabricators has been targeted before. They wished to relay some information to our law enforcement division. Your status as a Space Princess should be enough for them to help you, but I’ve uploaded letter of permission to your AI just in case.”
With the business of investigation concluded for the moment, the pair continued to intercourse for some time before Luna said her goodbyes and left for Fancy Pants Fabricators. She trotted down the gravel paths of the Canterhorn foothills to the nearest transport tube. It took her to the northern edge of the dome and into Cherryblossom Valley, where the streets were lit by pink neon tubing wrapped around cherry trees and daily rains wetted the sandstone facades.
Ninety yards from the Fancy Pants Fabricators offices, Luna heard a reproachful cry. It issued from an alley between a craft bakery and a twister house. She approached the alley with pantherish stealth.
A unicorn with a coat as white as snow and a luscious purple mane was backed against the far wall of the alley, her face a mask of fear and indignation. The mare was surrounded by four robo-dogs, diamond dogs who sold their organs and rented out their torsal cavities as growth space for transplants, all to buy powerful cybernetic implants.
“Take my space-bits and leave me,” cried the mare, “I have nothing else to give.”
“Silly Purity,” said the frontmost robo-dog. “You have given too much already. Given too much information, when silly pony should have kept its mouth shut.You will not leave this alley. But if you give us your space-bits, we will kill you quickly.” All four of the robo-dogs drew crude pistols; all wore mocking grins.
“Wha— You idiots! I’m not Purity, I’m Rarity! Purity left New Canterlot a week ago, she’s not even in the same star system! You mongrels have the wrong pony!”
The dogs glared at her distrustingly, and thumbed their pistols. The shortest dog gave a tinny, embarrassed cough. “Hmn, Rex did say that pony had red coat. And said pony was mud-eater, not nailhead.”
“See? Now, if you’ll just be reasonable—”
“Be quiet, pony!” snapped the largest of the dogs. “You will help us find Purity.”
“I will do no such thing. I don’t even know where she is!”
“Oh, we’ll be the judge of that,” said one, with a sickening leer. “We’ll take you to a dark hole and see what pony knows after week of no foods, and when you tell, we’ll steal you away to mines of Sirius. Pony will help us find gems... and help other things too!” he cackled.
Luna had heard enough. She stepped into the alley, drew her baton with telekinesis, and her voice boomed out: “Drop your weapons, curs!”
The four dogs turned sideways to look upon her, and the furthermost two kept their weapons trained on Rarity. The largest dog let out a derisive snort. “Nailhead and nailhead. Four hounds. More of us.”
Luna flared her wings and drew up to full height, magical shadows crackling around the edges of her feathers.
This time, the smallest dog snorted. “Nailhead and nailhead and featherbrain. Three against four. We still win. Back off!”
“No!” said his larger companion, “Big pony has shiny loot! Kill her now and steal it all!”
The two closest dogs raised their weapons to fire at Luna. ABACUS had already activated, and fed millions of cycles of combat data to Luna’s brain each second. It calculated the body positions, weapon calibers and firing angles of the two dogs, and mapped out a precise route to avoid their shots. Luna instantly leapt, dodging the two bullets, and dashed sideways across the wall before jumping down and landing between Rarity and the nearest dog.
Magic arced across her baton and it transformed into Selene, her personal spear, a six-foot pole with a wickedly-barbed phantasmal blade. She swept the shaft in a half circle, knocking the feet of the nearest dog out from underneath him. He spun and landed face down, and Luna pressed the base of the spear against his spine, activating an electro-pulsar and knocking him unconscious.
The tallest dog, who was now closest to Luna, drew a long blade from within his robotic arm. Before he could lunge, Luna caught the blade between the barbs of Selene and twisted harshly, sending it flying. As the dog ducked to retrieve his blade, the farthest dog shot at her again. She dodged it easily, but the shortest dog lined her up in his sights, and it would hit the mare behind her if she simply avoided it.
As the dog squeezed the trigger, ABACUS fed a thousand calculations into Luna’s mind, and allowed her to bring Selene to bear at a perfect angle. The bullet hit the glowing edge of the spearhead and split in two, one piece burying harmlessly into the wall, and the other piece hitting the tallest dog’s neck as he made a desperate lunge for Rarity. He fell to the ground, dead.
Before either of the remaining dogs could fire again, Luna severed the short dog’s robotic pistol paw with Selene, and sent the remaining dog flying into a wall with telekinesis. He tried to raise his pistol from his prone position, but the base of Luna’s spear came down on his neck, stunning him instantly.
Seeing one of his companions dead, and two incapacitated, and an enraged Space Princess between him and his severed pistol arm, the remaining dog dropped his off-hand weapon and scampered away. Luna was tempted to pursue, but decided against it. She could pick up his trail later, and find his master. After securing the two living dogs and sending for the lawbots via ABACUS, she put away her spear and spoke to the mare. By the time the mare was calm enough to speak clearly, the lawbots had arrived.
While the lawbots cordoned off the scene, arrested the two dogs and took away the body, Rarity swooned, thanking Luna profusely.
“Such courage and grace! Your movements are subtle but strong, and almost too fast for the eye to see! Oh, I could base a hundred different space-ship designs from your exquisite facial structure alone. I cannot thank you enough for your generosity, if there’s anything you need I shall be your humble servant!” she effused.
Luna smiled graciously. “No thanks is necessary, Miss Rarity. It would put my mind at ease to ensure your safety, however. Might I provide you with an escort?”
The mare smiled coyly. “Well, while I would love the company of such a determined, courageous and beautiful protector, my company provides an excellent bodyguard service for employees who require it. I hadn’t thought myself in need of such a service, but apparently having a similar name to a colleague who does can give one such a need,” she said, shaking her head.
“You work for Fancy Pants Fabricators?” enquired Luna. “In truth, I had intended to visit their offices before happening upon you.”
“It’s just down the street, Space Princess,” said Rarity. “Would you care to accompany me?”
Luna nodded, and the pair set out of the alley and towards the offices.
“What is your business at Fancy Pants Fabricators?” asked Rarity. “I will gladly help you in any way I can—strictly above board, of course.”
“I had come to learn of the Broker, a renowned thief and spy. You said that your friend, Purity, had information?”
“She does, and I did not lie to the dogs—Purity is not in New Canterlot,” said Rarity, as they walked along the pink-lit streets. “However, she had the information extracted from her mind as to make interrogating her pointless. She gave the data file to the company president before she left. I don’t believe he’s in the office today.”
They reached the front steps of the offices. “I see,” said Luna. “Could I leave a message?”
Rarity gave another coy smile. “Why, you could do that,” she purred, “or you could accompany me to a company party at the Tangerine tonight, and meet him there. A Space Princess would be quite the plus one, I must admit.” She tittered gently at the thought, covering her mouth with a hoof.
“It would be my pleasure,” replied Luna.
“Excellent,” said Rarity, conjuring a light pad and writing out an invitation. She passed the hologram to Luna, thanked her once more, and walked into the building.
Luna considered entering and leaving a message anyway, but remembered a crucial detail. She turned and ran back to the alleyway, as fleetly as she dared. She hoped that the lawbots, having retrieved three dogs and all of their equipment, had missed it.
She was not disappointed. In the alleyway, tucked behind a waste compactor, was a highly-modified pistol attached to a severed robo-paw.
Luna descended into the lower district of Cherryblossom Valley, beneath the river and the pink-neon walkways. The lower districts were a maze of tunnels and enclosed streets, lit by artificial sunlamps. The air down here lacked a certain crispness, there was a hint of moisture and the smell of day-old baked goods. Businesses with lower rents, patte-à-terres for well-off salarymares, pod-hotels, and new restaurants were all here in abundance. She approached a shop named The Crust, a place which defied simple explanation, as did its owner.
The Crust was listed as an antiques and antiquities dealer, but also included a gaming arcade, pool tables, a ball pool, a cupcake bakery, an entire row of antique slot machines and vending machines, a library of classical music, and a repairpony’s stall. It dealt in fine crafts, musical instruments, modified gadgets, antique dispensers, recipe chips for pudding printers, craft ciders, and intermediate cybernetics.
The owner was Pinkie Pie, a pink-coated mare with a candy-cotton mane, who was given to bouts of hyperactivity and infectious cheer. She was friendly and folly-prone, a great lover of parties, play, and pranks, deeply unpredictable, a renaissance fool of many skills. Presently, she bounded up to Luna the moment that the Space Princess entered the store.
“Oh-my-gosh, Luna! I haven’t seen you for a whole week!”
Luna gave her a bemused look. “I have not set hoof on New Canterlot for eight Equus-months.”
“No, not here,” said Pinkie Pie patiently, “I mean back in time, when I had to make sure my parents fell in love so that me and my sisters would be born! Remember?”
“...But that would have been decades ago—”
“Never mind, that’s all in the past now,” she interrupted. “What can I do for you today, my bestest-westest-present-perfect-Princess-friend?” She moved in close to Luna, pressing her pudgy frame against hers.
Luna cleared her throat. “There is a small matter of—”
“Oooh, a stick!” Before Luna could get another word out, Pinkie took her spear from its sheath, still in baton form.
“Pinkie Pie, that is—”
She stared at the baton intently. “Hmmm. It looks to me like a retractable combat spear, like the ones that the warrior hippocamps of the Shining Sea use. See these runes here? These are magic runes, which means that the blade is magic, so you’ve gotta be careful with it if you can cast spells or you might slip and give yourself a really bad boo-boo.”
“Pinkie, it’s my spear Selene, you know full well that—”
“The shaft feels like it’s carved out of bone which is kinda gross but good material for this sort of thing. I can feel the magic coming off it—it’s making my coat all tingly!—and that’s weird ‘cause you normally need a horn to feel magic, so it must be really really enchanted, and if it’s that enchanted it’s probably from a powerful monster. An ursa major? No, they don’t have bones. Rigellian locusts? No, too small. I’m going to make a super-smart guess and say it’s from a void kraken.”
“You know full well that Selene was carved from the psi-bone of a void kraken, it was you who helped me unlock its secrets—”
“There’s not really much of a market for mage-spears this week, though, and I think I’d have to jump through a whole bunch of licensing hoops just to sell it anyway, and not fun hoops like at a dog show but bad hoops like when you try to slam-dunk in basketball and your hoof gets stuck in the net and they need to call the lawbots to help get you out. I’ll give you thirty space-bits for it,” said Pinkie Pie, cannily.
Luna gently reclaimed her spear, and placed it back in its sheath. “I’m not here to sell Selene.”
"Oh. Hey, whatever happened to that laser pistol you used to tote? I've got some upgrade chips that would be super for it, I could turn it from a dull old laser pistol into a shiny new lazer pistol!"
"A 'lazer' pistol?"
"Yeah! It's better 'cause it's got a 'z' in it."
"Is it more powerful, and more precise of aim?"
"Sure, why not? Bring a trade-in and I can make that deal for less than a century!"
"I am not here for weapon upgrades, Pinkie Pie. Nor am I here for trade-ins."
"Cupcakes? So sweet and tasty?"
"I am afraid not."
“Well, why are you here? Are you going to that party at the Tangerine tonight too?”
“I am,” she said, staring down any possible interruption from the pink pony, “but that is not why I am here.” She retrieved the dog’s pistol from her saddlebags, and gave it to Pinkie Pie. “There is something unusual about this weapon, though I could not say what it is. I am interested in locating whoever it was that dealt this weapon.”
Pinkie Pie took the chunky, metal pistol, and led Luna through the winding stalls of The Crust, past buzzing arcade machines and jingling prize dispensers, and over to the repairpony table. She donned a headset with a cyber-loupe, placed the pistol between the prongs of a telekinetic vice, and began to examine it.
After several minutes of deliberation, she looked at Luna. “It’s simple, but it’s also not simple. This pistol is a mystery wrapped inside a not-a-mystery. A hittery? No, that’s silly. Where was I? Oh yeah, the pistol. It’s a Blam-Kannon Mk. IV, made by Griffon Defensive Kinetics. The model is a decade old-ish, it’s a slug-thrower, and it was probably brought off-world since it’s illegal on the station without proper permits.”
She pressed a button on the gun, ejected the magazine, and looked at the bullets. “It fires .455 caseless fragmentary rounds,” she continued, “which will plink off armor or mage-shielding, but are really nasty against pony. It’s a cheap weapon for taking out critters on frontier farms, made from a rejected line of military pistols. It’s really nothing special, buuuut—”
Pinkie turned a dial on the telekinetic vice. Pale blue light highlighted the sighting devices on the pistol, and also revealed extensive internal trigger modifications. “—it’s modded. Targeting and trigger mechanisms are amazing. The owner of this pistol was either part of a special-forces group that spent all their money on mods and had nothing left for a good gun, or they’re friends with an aspiring amateur armorer with access to secret designs.”
“I believe I can rule out the first scenario,” said Luna dryly. “Your explanation rings true. By all rights, I should have been able to incapacitate all four of them before the first shot was fired. If they had targeters wired into their cybernetics, however... Where can these modifications be acquired?”
“You can’t buy them retail, that’s for sure.”
“Ah. The black market, then?”
Pinkie Pie shrugged, and took a bite from a donut which had appeared. “Well, I don’t know much about the black market, so I can’t really help you there. But I might not need to.” She raised her light-pad and scrolled through holographic records. “See, the schematics for the mods haven’t been on the market for a year, after five companies came to a trade show with the exact same models. Two of the companies went bust after that, and you’d only be able to pick up these mods through corporate back-channels. That’s the grey market. And I know aaallll about the grey market...”
On taking Pinkie Pie’s directions, Luna departed and traveled to the Depths. The Depths were the lower parts of the Undersides, where rent and life were cheap, and unwary lawbots were used for spare parts. Sodium lamps cast their dull orange glow over the pavements, and the air thrummed with acrid tobacco smoke and the noise of street performers. Griffons lounged on corners, eating kebabs and glaring at passers-by. Gaggles of foals flanked by their guardians were swiftly herded to-and-from school. Twitchy shopkeepers peered out through security grids and into the street.
Luna had no great fear of the Depths, for she had made her bones in far worse places. New Canterlot locals considered it a dangerous slum, but this was by the utopian standards of New Canterlot. For those that did not involve themselves in the affairs of smugglers or criminals, pickpocketry and burglary were the worst things likely to happen. If a resident chose to involve themselves in criminal underground, they could make a killing, or else become one.
The Goldenwasser Brewery took up half of the street, and was adjacent to Berry's Dive, their company-owned bar. Luna observed from across the pavement. Such a place would be a boon for smugglers or shady dealers: the bar provided a public-yet-secluded venue for making transactions, the brewery would surely have a great many spaces for hiding illicit goods, and smuggling items in and out under guise of deliveries would be simplicity itself.
She checked the area for bystanders, crossed the street, and flew up to a fire escape on the first floor of the warehouse. She detached a small, circular gadget from her barding and attached it to the metal warehouse wall. With a mental command to ABACUS, a sonic map of the warehouse appeared in her mind’s eye. She could not see far into the building, as the noise from inside created a dull wall of interference.
The brewery floor contained gigantic vats of churning mash, twenty-feet tall and twelve-feet in diameter, laid out in a grid. Mechanical dragonflies buzzed from vat to vat, monitoring the mixture, adjusting the settings, and doubtlessly scanning for intruders.
Luna inhaled, lit her horn, and cast a spell of shadow. Through intense meditation and skillful magic, she would not only create an aura of dimming that the equine eye would skim and ignore, but she could also lower her body temperature to avoid detection by the dragonflies’ thermal sight. As long as there was no direct focus on her and ABACUS was not performing combat calculations, she would be utterly hidden.
After discreetly disabling the alarm on the fire door, she slipped inside. She stood on an internal balcony, overlooking a grid of vats the size of a hoofball pitch. A mechanical dragonfly buzzed a meter away from her head, ignoring her presence. She could see no equine workers, although they might be hidden among the vats and noise. Silently, she glided down from the railing and onto the shop floor.
She walked halfway through the grid of vats before ABACUS spoke into her ear. “Passive thermal and sonic scans indicate that the vat ten meters ahead and directly to the left contains no liquid or moving mechanical parts,” it said.
Luna nodded in acknowledgement and approached the vat. Her eyes caught a scrap of silvery tape on the floor, and a thin line on the metal vat wall. A hidden door, intended to be visible to anyone who knew its location. Her sonic imaging device showed no traps, and when pushed, the door swung open with a muted click. Inside the empty vat was a metal stairwell, descending downwards. She entered, closing the door behind her.
The stairwell led to a small, brightly-lit workshop. Wall-racks and rickety shelving bore a bounty of illegal weapons, stolen mods, and devices of dubious purpose. Pain rays, organ extractors, knockout gas, kinetic bypass rounds, gloop grenades, and other items that Luna had only seen in the lawless reaches of the Beyond. On the walls, she noticed several other cheap pistols with identical modifications to the one she had retrieved.
There were two desks, one a workbench and the other covered in paperwork. A collection of receipts, notes, and personal reminders, which Luna recorded with ABACUS. They were terse and sloppy, in bad horn-writing, and referred to clients and colleagues only by numbers and trails of invective. She activated the light pad on the desk. On it, she found an inventory of the equipment stored there. Beside the entry for a shipment of trigger modifications was a note:
‘A goodwill gesture from the Broker. His note is in the safe.’
After copying the computer files and written receipts, Luna found the wall safe. It was coated in wards that thrummed with magic and set her teeth on edge.
“ABACUS, can you identify these spells?” she asked.
“A cursory thaum-scan indicates that these wards will detonate if disturbed, destroying the contents of the safe.”
“Can you disable them safely?”
“Affirmative. However, the detonation spell will be leached into the environment, causing substantial thaumic noise. In addition, I cannot maintain your stealth spells while removing the wards. You will be detected.”
Luna considered her options for a moment. “Do it.”
A beam shot from her barding and crashed against the wards. The air shimmered and stunk of butter popcorn, humming softly as the detonation spells were converted into harmless magical noise. Grey things that looked like packing peanuts burst into existence and dissolved into nothing as they hit the floor.
“Wards successfully removed,” intoned ABACUS. “I already detect several alarm signatures from the brewery above.”
Luna destroyed the lock with a cracking tool, took the paperwork from the safe, and then ran for the stairs.
She burst from the hidden door, and saw a dozen-strong team of mercenaries deploying from the railings above, dropping rope and rappelling onto the shop floor. Through her enhanced senses she felt flashes of MADAR emanating from the balconies, doubtless a sniper team providing overwatch. Flying above the vats would provide them with a clear shot.
“Movement by the workshop door,” shouted one of the mercenaries. She had been spotted.
She caught a glimpse of two of the ponies as they rounded a corner. They wore yellow armor, with emblems of a shining swift on the pauldrons, and carried compact shotguns. They were members of the Mares of Diomedes, known for terrifying conduct and an utter lack of restraint.
Luna drew and cut with Selene in a smooth motion, and tore a gash in the wall of a vat. A deluge of foul-smelling mash spewed out, blocking the mercenaries’ line of sight. Kinetic flechettes whizzed through the spray, knocking holes in other vats.
“It’s a freakin’ Space Princess,” screamed another mercenary, insensible with excitement. “I call dibs on her shiv!”
Luna could not fly away, and the MADAR pulses would disrupt all but the most powerful cloaking spells. She dared not engage her opponents here, where they could easily surround and overwhelm her. If she could identify their capabilities and force them onto neutral ground, she would have a chance.
“ABACUS, activate Nightbringer!” she commanded. Two dozen holes opened up on each side of her barding and spewed out rice-sized pellets. Each pellet exploded with a snap and created a cloud of thick, hot smoke, as dark as midnight. The smoke stung the eyes and lungs, and disrupted thermal, visual and magical targeting.
“I have cross referenced scans of the brewery interior with planning applications to the department of architecture in the last century, and have found the layout of the building in the city archives,” said ABACUS, as Luna sprinted away from the laughing, shooting mercenaries.
“And?”
“Turn left now.”
Luna did so, and under the cover of her smoke trail she barrelled into a maintenance passage. It was cramped and dimly-lit, and afforded her precious little room for maneuvering. The twists and turns provided cover from her pursuers, but she could hear their jeers and taunts as they gave chase.
“Aim for the legs,” one shouted. “Space Princesses have lots of enemies, if we catch her we can name our price!”
Luna dropped down into a side passage, too narrow to sprint along. In an instant she heard the metallic ‘tunk’ of multiple grenades landing by her hooves. ABACUS lifted them in telekinesis and flung them back. No explosion came. Her pursuers had combat computers to deactivate their own grenades, then, but not ones powerful enough to detonate them as soon as they were near the Space Princess.
She followed the mental map provided by ABACUS, always a turn ahead of the mercenaries, never more. They had powered suits or metabolic boosters, perhaps both. They were monomaniacal in their pursuit, gleefully pumping shotgun rounds into the walls and ceiling. Luna could likely ambush them with her spear and spells on the next turn and butcher the entire team before they had a chance to retaliate. She took no joy in wanton butchery, however, and sought a cleaner way to escape.
ABACUS indicated a spot on the ground. When Luna reached it, she teleported directly below. She was now inside an airlock, leading to a cargo hold which would take robot-piloted vacuum ships through the arteries of New Canterlot. The cargo hold would lack both air and gravity, an environment that Luna could survive from a combination of magic, harsh training, and unique biology. The merc teams, however, would need time to ready their enviro-suits. She overrode the control panel to open the airlock without stabilizing the environment, attached a multi-bomb to the door, and pushed off into the hold.
The cargo hold was almost the size of the brewery, with giant plastic crates bolted onto spindly metal sorting racks and mechanical claws sorting shipments for delivery through the vacuum ports. Entering the vacuum tubes would be suicide even for her—though the security protocols would likely bar her entirely—but from here, she could find another set of maintenance tunnels and lose her tail.
She began to make her way across the cargo hold, pushing off crates and walls to float through the vacuum to her next push-off point, before a voice boomed out:
“BUCEPHALOUS HAS DETECTED AN INTRUDER!”
“How does a voice carry in this airless void?” Luna asked internally.
“I believe the voice is a radio signal being directly beamed into any nearby listening devices, such as your earpiece,” replied ABACUS.
”My earpiece is for music and the dulcet tones of my dear ABACUS! This cur will pay dearly for his insult! Show me its location, that I might destroy it!”
“The signal is coming from over there.”
A flashing arrow in her vision indicated to a crate the size of an apartment. Lines moved and shifted along the frame of the crate, and it quickly pushed itself apart into something resembling a chunky, mechanical horse the size of an elephant, with a single glowing light in place of a muzzle, and a dozen weapon ports protruding from its limbs and body.
”BUCEPHALOUS HAS DETECTED YOUR PRESENCE, MEATLING,” blared the warbot. “BUCEPHALOUS OFFERS YOU SPEEDY OBLITERATION IF YOU SURRENDER.”
A solid wall of laser beams melted the crates that had just been behind Luna. Only her ABACUS-aided reflexes saved her. She grabbed the docking hooks for every crate in sight with telekinesis and detached them, sending a mass of crates tumbling into the vacuum between her and the warbot.
”BUCEPHALOUS CANNOT BE ELUDED! BUCEPHALOUS SEES ALL YOUR POSSIBLE DEATHS!”
The warbot blasted away crates at-will, creating an ever-increasing cloud of molten debris. Seeker rockets deployed from its chest. Luna sliced through them with Selene, and cursed silently when a shard of burning metal singed her muzzle. She detached more crates, and ducked further into the bay. The warbot surged forward on propulsor beams. As it pursued her, it warped and crushed the crates around it, its shielding functioning as a weapon.
”BUCEPHALOUS WILL LIST YOUR DEATHS IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER! ABSORPTION! ATOMIC ANNIHILATION! ACIDIFICATION! ASPHYXIATION! BROKEN NECK! BURNING! CATASTROPHIC ORGAN FAILURE—”
Luna coughed, and sent a telekinetic wave through Selene to push away the wall of burning smoke. If she did not end this fight quickly, the hold would become a lethal firestorm.
“The mercenary team is entering the cargo hold,” said ABACUS.
”Detonate the multi-bomb, haywire mode!” replied Luna.
The mercenary team swarmed into the hold, their heads covered by rebreather helmets. As they floated into the melee, Luna’s trap detonated. The bomb released a cloud of golden smoke, a trillion dying nanites all releasing distraction signals, disrupting the mercenaries' combat computers. Their powered armor now worked against them, immobile as it struggled to keep vital systems online.
Luna leapt and teleported. The hapless mercenaries were now spread out between her and the warbot.
”BUCEPHALOUS DETECTS FRIENDLIES. CHANGING SHIELD PATTERNS TO AVOID DEATHS NOT COVERED BY CORPORATE WARRANTY.”
This was Luna’s chance. She focused her magic intently, warping space-time above the warbot’s head to create a gravity well. She cradled Selene in her hoof, the cyber-amentum looping over her fetlock, took careful aim, and slung.
Her spear shot through the air, aiming well-above the warbot’s head. The gravity well snagged the spear in its orbit, pulling it down in an arc, where the magical blade embedded into the back of the warbot’s neck, crashing through the coolant vents. Luna released the gravity well and channeled all of her magic through her spear, sending out a shockwave through the innards of the robot.
The great machine shuddered for a moment, before the muzzle light blinked off. It was defeated. Luna retrieved her spear, ignoring the curses of the struggling mercenary team, and made good on her escape.
Luna returned once more to the clean air of the megadomes. Sunset had now fallen across New Canterlot, and the hyperglass threw dappled patterns of pink and orange across the land. She was in the Harmony Dome, possessed of a more tropical atmosphere than the alpine conditions of the Crystal Dome, where Mount Canterhorn and her dear Twilight Sparkle resided.
As she walked along a promenade in the long shade of palm trees, she perused the letter she had retrieved from the workshop safe. It was but a page long, referenced previous dealings with the workshop owner, mentioned a robo-dog, Rex, acting as a go-between, and alluded to some grand plan with the promise of a startling sum of space-bits. The letter was signed ‘The Broker.’ The Broker was either a unicorn or a griffon, judging by the signature.
“ABACUS, scan the lawbot network,” said Luna. “I wish to see if there have been any developments.”
“The incident at the brewery has not yet been logged,” replied the AI. “There has been an update on the two robo-dogs that were captured after the attack on Miss Rarity. Both died in custody due to ‘faulty biotics.’”
“A remote assassination if there ever was one,” remarked Luna, darkly. “No matter. We will continue to this evening’s soiree, and see what can be learned there.”
After cleaning herself at the public baths, she went to The Tangerine. It was on the beach front, a whitewashed building that smelled of coconuts and red wine. She presented her invitation to the doorbot, and was allowed inside.
The party was already in full swing. Pairs of ponies danced the flamenco on the wooden floors, or watched from the sidelines, nibbling fizzy slices of fresh orange plucked from baths of dry ice. Waiterbots glided across the room, dispensing cocktails and wine. On stages throughout the room, acrobats twirled and leapt to raucous applause. Pleasantly drunken guests tottered over fondue pots, and collapsed, laughing, onto twister mats.
“Space Princess Luna!” Rarity appeared from the crowd and greeted her with a brief nuzzle, as was the local custom. She wore a red silk dress that flowed gracefully along her sides. “I’m so glad you could make it, why, there are a dozen ponies here just dying to meet you.”
Luna laughed graciously, and returned the nuzzle. “It would be my pleasure, Miss Rarity.”
“Oh! As I recall, you wanted to meet the company president. Follow me,” said Rarity, “I shall take you straight to him.”
She led Luna across the room to an oaken bar, where lavishly-dressed partygoers drank red wine and nibbled at tapas. At one end of the bar sat a pair of unicorns. One was a white stallion in his late forties, who wore a holo-monocle, a luxurious mustache, and an insouciant smile. The other, a pink-coated, purple-maned mare in an electric-blue dress, who affected the sort of easy manner that only came with years of dedicated practice.
The stallion turned his head as they approached. “Ah, Rarity, good to see you! I was just telling Miss Polomare about your excellent work on the Bluejay interiors.”
Rarity laughed softly. “You’re a dreadful flatterer. By all means, continue.”
“My dear, if I truly sung your praises I would spend the whole night singing, and you wouldn’t have a chance to introduce your friend.”
Rarity took a step back, and ushered Luna forwards. “Luna, this is Fancy Pants, president of Fancy Pants Fabricators and my wonderful boss, and this is Suri Polomare, president of Suricorp Contracting. Fancy, Suri, this is Space Princess Luna. I’m sure you have heard of her exploits.”
Fancy Pants raised his eyebrows, and adjusted his holo-monocle. “Space Princess Luna? The mare who recovered the Codices of Harmony from the Dire Wryms of Diarmuid?”
Luna bowed graciously. “That I did.”
“The legendary figure who saved the Scion of Doubt from the Galangal Eaters?” asked Suri.
“The very same.”
Suri looked at her in a manner that blended awe and appraisal. “And is it true that you drove the Bone Merchants out of the Concourse?”
Luna coughed quietly. “I’m afraid that one was my sister’s work.”
“Ah, my apologies,” said Suri, “I've been known to mix up my sources from time to time. How did you make Miss Rarity’s acquaintance?”
Together, Luna and Rarity recounted their meeting, from Luna’s investigation of the Broker, to the confrontation with the robo-dogs in the alley, to the arrival of the lawbots. Rarity almost swooned as she recalled Luna’s skill.
Suri bore a troubled expression. “This is worrying news indeed, if a snake like the Broker thinks he can openly order the assassination of those who seek to expose him.”
Luna considered this, and shook her head. “I do not think he would go to such lengths if he was secure in his position. He fears exposure, and thinks it close enough to order a desperate, unplanned attack.”
“All the more reason to find him, eh?” said Fancy Pants. “In any case, what happened next?”
“I pursued other leads to no avail,” said Luna. “In truth, I had hoped that your company data will bring me closer. Miss Rarity mentioned that it was in your possession.”
This time, Suri coughed. “I feel like this is heading into a sensitive corporate discussion,” she said, “so I’ll make myself scarce to avoid any, ah, security risk.” She added to Luna, “Be sure to stay for the toast.”
Fancy Pants gestured to an assistant, a rail-thin pegasus who slipped through the crowd like a minnow through water, and asked him to fetch the files. He then took out a light pad, conjured a holo-key, and presented it to Luna. “Key Note will return shortly with the data, which is scrambled. This holo-key will allow you to read them. We believe we have more data on the Broker than any other organisation today, even the Department of Justice.”
“You have my thanks. May I ask why your company in particular takes such an interest in the Broker?”
He swirled his wine and looked thoughtful for a moment. “The Broker,” he began, “is a thorn because of the peculiar nature of the work we do at Fancy Pants Fabricators. Are you aware of what our work entails?”
“Not entirely. I surmised that you were ship designers.”
He shook his head. “We are ship enhancers. We upgrade, we repurpose, we innovate. We turn clunky, last-generation cruisers into sleek transport ships, or stripped-down military surplus crafts into viable commercial vehicles, all at a fraction of the cost of replacing a ship wholesale. We have fabrication packages of ten-thousand modifications that can reinvent entire classes of ships around. Our success springs from three sources. First, we are more experienced and better equipped than our competitors. Second, we constantly seek to make improvements. Third, our array of proprietary and patented procedures.”
“Tomorrow is the grand unveiling of the Crystal Rose,” said Rarity. “It was a dryad-pattern megaship, a transport vessel rightly considered obsolete, uncomfortable, and inexcusably vulgar.”
“An old design indeed,” said Luna. “I recall seeing such ships between my periods of seclusion, almost a century ago.”
Rarity nodded. “It was considered so far behind modern ship design that any improvements would be futile, and the ship would remain a relic possessed only by the poor and the terribly déclassé. It lacked artificial gravity, for Sol’s sake! But we did it. We turned it into a ship with all the speed, reliability and navigational abilities of any good vessel on the market today, with twice the luxury for half the price. The Crystal Rose is our magnum opus, a demonstration of our ability to improve any craft.”
Fancy Pants sighed, and adjusted his holo-monocle. “And of course, we have already seen fragments of our schematics floating around the exonet. It’s garbled and incomplete information that would burn out the engines after a year, but enough to boost the speed of some very old ships to modern standards. We have had to tighten security protocols, which slows our work down. Most of our proprietary designs come to light after a time, but if they are leaked before our flagship is unveiled—suffice to say it would put quite a dent in business plan.
He took a sip of wine, and continued. “Given that our work is not solely secret, the Broker cannot outright destroy us through security breaches, he can only hurt us. We decided, therefore, that the best defense was a good offense, to pursue and investigate him in ways that smaller, less-secure companies could not risk. And it’s worked, inasmuch that the unveiling is tomorrow and we still have investors. With a Space Princess on the Broker’s tail as well, all the better.”
Rarity turned to Luna, eyes bright and pleading, lashes fluttering. “Oh, Space Princess, you will come to the unveiling tomorrow won’t you?”
Luna opened her mouth to decline, but ABACUS quickly spoke into her mind, “A search of the city intranet indicates that Administrator Twilight Sparkle will be present at the unveiling in an official capacity.”
A smile bloomed across Luna’s features. “It would be my pleasure, Miss Rarity.”
Fancy Pants took three cocktails from a nearby waitbot and passed one to both Luna and Rarity. “Enough business, dear friends, the evening’s toast approaches! There are still a few minutes before the fondue pots open, Space Princess. The guest book is on that podium by the edge of the dance floor. Do sign it, if you haven’t already.”
“I shall,” said Luna. “Miss Rarity, Mister Fancy Pants, it has been a pleasure.”
The three ponies parted company to make preparations. Luna opened the guest book and saw a list of signatures, most with a short quote by the author. Before she could sign her own name, one signature caught her eye.
‘It’s been a pleasure. I hope to see you all soon!’ said the quote.
Something cold and dark coalesced in her stomach as she looked at the quote and signature. She looked up, and saw waitbots bringing lidded fondue pots with trays of bread and fried potato for dipping into the room, and ponies gathering in groups for the toast. She saw a lone, vigilant lawbot in the room, doubtless part of the corporate bodyguarding service. She looked back down.
“ABACUS,” she said internally, “compare the writing in the note from Goldenwasser Brewery with the signatures in the guest book.”
ABACUS completed its analysis before Luna had let out a breath. “The horn writing on the note is a perfect match for Suri Polomare.”
A prickly sensation ran all across Space Princess Luna’s coat. The lights inside the room dimmed, and then shone over a dais at the far edge of the dance floor. The guests mingled around the fondue pots, waiting. She saw another two lawbots in her periphery. They were no simple bodyguards, that much was clear.
Luna prepared to activate her stealth spells, disappear into the crowd, and seek out Suri Polomare, when a pair of floodlights shone on the dais.
Suri Polomare herself stepped onto the stage. A microphone floated in front of her face.
“Good evening, friends and colleagues,” she said. “As most of you know, I am Suri Polomare, president of Suricorp Contracting. It has been an absolute pleasure to work with all of you, and it brings me great honor to bring Fancy Pants Fabricators and Suricorp together. Unfortunately, before I can begin the toast, we have unpleasant news.”
A look of worry and a low murmuring rippled through the crowd. Luna now counted at least six lawbots in the room. Suri continued: “Evidence has arrived that a recent arrival to New Canterlot has been found in possession of industrial secrets, and has been acting as a relay between smugglers and her espionage network from a distance. The infamous industrial spy, the Broker, stands among us. She is none other than Space Princess Luna.”
The ceiling lights swung, illuminating Luna in the middle of the dance floor. Ponies all around her gasped and shied away. There were now a dozen lawbots, and they all began their approach.
“You dare slander me,” growled Luna.
Suri Polomare shook her head sadly. “It’s not slander if it’s true. Lawbots have already searched your ship, and they found light pads full of stolen schematics from all around the galaxy. You have been seen entering a notorious front for illegal modders at the Goldenwasser Brewery, and consorting with well-known grey marketeers.” As she spoke, pictures flashed on a holographic projection behind her, showing Luna talking to Pinkie Pie and entering the brewery, and pictures of Luna’s ship interior, filled with stolen designs.
”You will pay for your lies!” roared Luna. Ponies around her squealed and shied away. Suri Polomare did not flinch.
“I wish only that they were lies, Space Princess Luna,” replied Suri. “It seems the truth is far more tragic.”
Luna felt her hackles rise. She was completely surrounded by lawbots now.
“Put your weapons down and come quietly,” said each of the lawbots in unison.
Her teeth ground together. To bear the dishonor was impossible, but to attack would be senseless. Even if she defeated every lawbot in the city, to slay without proof was to slay an innocent in the eyes of her creed.
Luna relinquished her weapons to the lawbots, and was taken away.
After her delivery into a law-shuttle and a slow journey, Luna found herself in a grey holding cell. Her equipment, barding, and weaponry had been confiscated and taken to places unknown. Her external processors had been removed, leaving only the base personality core of ABACUS still embedded in her brain. Her magic still functioned, but any use above basic levitation would trigger the thaum resistor and create a magical warpstorm that would leave her unconscious.
She had paced the cell for some time, yet burned no energy. She had tried to meditate, yet could not stop her wings flaring in rage. She eventually began her daily routine of harsh calisthenics. Whenever her release, she would meet her enemies in peak condition.
The plascrete that formed her cell door shifted, and left a grid of solid steel bars in their place. Twilight Sparkle stood on the other side.
Luna almost fell as she saw her. When she recovered, she bowed deeply to Twilight, touching her horn to the ground, and could not bring herself to meet her eyes.
“Fair Twilight, I swear my innocence,” said Luna, softly, “and I apologise. I have shamed myself by allowing such slander to befall me. Twilight, I must...” Her sentence trailed off. She could not bear to request aid from her love, not after failing her so.
Twilight’s voice was forlorn. “Suri has put the full weight of her company into proving your guilt, and preventing your release on bail lest you flee justice. I... I will arrange what I can, but even so it will be difficult to prove your innocence. As long as there is some evidence against you, your very word is tainted. Ironically, your heroic reputation prevents your release. Should you depart from New Canterlot, you have friends over the galaxy who would hide you.”
Luna sat, and hung her head. “I see. I shall remain here until my trial, then.”
“A trial this large will take six months to arrange at the least, and your communication will be severely restricted. You are in a cruel bind, Space Princess Luna, for if you were the Broker, the evidence will be against you, and if you are not the Broker, as I suspect, the true Broker will create evidence against you. Only administrative fiat could release you now, and it would mean both your exile, and exile for the administrator who ordered your release.”
A teardrop splashed against the plascrete floor. “My love, I am sorry,” whispered Luna. “In my carelessness, I have wronged you deeply.”
“Oh, Luna,” said Twilight, her voice choked with emotion. She leaned against the bars as she spoke. “Please, speak of love no more, it is too painful. I cannot bear to see us torn apart by slander, and I cannot bear that you will not find your gifts in your suite, under the bed, in a secured footlocker that bears my birth-date as the code, and I cannot bear that you will not investigate the backroom of Redbeak’s Bar and Barbecue.”
Luna blinked. “What do you speak of?” she said, and looked up. Twilight Sparkle was gone. Luna rushed towards the bars to try and catch a glimpse, but the plascrete shifted once more, and turned it into a solid wall. She pounded her hoof against the wall, screaming in frustration. She took a deep, ragged breath, closed her eyes, and hung her head once more.
It was only when she opened her eyes that she saw the small plastic card on the floor. She picked it up. It was a door card for a hotel. On the reverse, somepony had scrawled in pen:
’You have eighteen hours before the lawbots recognise you again. Good luck.’
Luna looked up from the card, and gasped. The door in front of her had disappeared. Her cell was open. A lawbot walked past, glanced at her, and continued walking. With a dark grin, Luna strolled out of the prison, and back into the streets of New Canterlot.
She went straight to the hotel, a small place above the Tertiary Spaceport. The front counter was staffed by an old mare whose eyes were covered by a visor, and a creaking maidbot. They pointed the way to the room, and she went there almost giddy with excitement.
She found her equipment within the chest, strapping on her barding with foal-like glee, testing her weapons for weight and tampering, and reverently slotting the external cores for her AI into their proper places. ABACUS’s enhancements flickered back to life in her vision. Her hearing was sharpened, her mind quickened.
“Oh, ABACUS,” she said, reverently, “it is good to have you back.”
“Administrator name redacted for security reasons added several data files in anticipation of my reactivation,” it replied. “They concern criminal activity centered around Redbeak’s Bar and Barbecue, and leads on robo-dog gangs in the area. Would you like to view them now?”
“There is no time to waste. Show them while we walk.”
Luna left the hotel immediately, took a transport tube through the Undersides, and then deep into the Depths. She knew of Redbeak’s Bar, and had previous dealings with the owner. It was a deeply unsavory place even by the standards of the Depths, a carnie bar serving robo-dogs, griffons, and a few rough pegasi. They served a tiny bowl of stewed meat and bread with every drink of cheap wine. There were no windows, and several of the lights that spelled ‘Redbeak’s’ were broken.
The bar was empty at this early hour, except for an old dog smoking a pipe and a griffon behind the bar, her white crest of feathers tinted purple at the edges. She stood drying a mug with a discolored towel, and chewed on something unspeakably grim. When the griffon saw Luna her eyes went wide, and she spat out her mouthful. The old dog harrumphed, and walked out of the bar.
“You!” screeched the bartender. “What in the Four Winds are you doing here?”
“You owe me a debt, Gilda of Clan Redbeak,” said Luna, darkly.
“I owe you nothing, you freakin’ madmare! You ruined my business!”
“I should have flogged and imprisoned you, wretch!” shouted Luna. “The birds of Ziz would have torn you apart had I not intervened, yet instead you escaped, hale and healthy. You owe me a debt, even had you not turned this bar into a front for criminals.”
Gilda laughed madly. “Front? It’s not a front any more, it’s a fire insurance payout, y’know why? ‘Cause that old dog that walked out was the freakin’ sentry, and he’s gonna be back in five minutes with the gang to burn this place to the ground. I’m outta here, and if you’ve got any brains you’ll do the same. Oh mare, I hope Dash is ready for a pilot job...”
Luna sneered. “Your cowardice shames you as always, Gilda.”
Gilda shrugged, jumped over the bar, and tried to push past Luna. She found herself blocked by the baton of Selene.
“I did not say you could leave,” said Luna.
The griffon spat on the ground. “If I stay any longer, I’m dead!”
“The robo-dog smugglers. Where are they, and how many?”
Gilda jerked a talon behind her. “Just one, in the back. If you don’t smoke him, his bosses will. I’m going now.”
“Leave. Pray we do not meet again, Gilda of Clan Redbeak.”
“Yeah, whatever, suck my dick,” muttered the griffon, before fleeing into the streets.
Luna stormed into the back, kicking the door off its hinges. A runty, familiar robo-dog fell off his chair and onto the floor, yelping in shock. One of his robotic paws was missing. The room was stacked with bills of various currencies, whole boxes full of schematics, and a dozen computers.
“ABACUS, start analyzing these computers,” said Luna. “You,” she pointed Selene at the cringing dog, “answer my questions if you value your life!”
“Yes! Fido tells big horse everything! Big h-horse must not eat Fido!”
“Before you say a word, know that I am your only hope of escape. Even if your band of brigands defeats me, your bosses will think it suspicious that I let you live twice. I do not think they will extend the same mercy.”
“Fido understands, Fido is very grateful!”
“The Broker! Suri Polomare! What is she planning?”
“Big plans, high tech, all tonight! Big stupid ship, boss wrote things on computer stupid boss Fido told boss not to write things down! Boss doesn’t listen to Fido, boss never listens—”
The voice of ABACUS distracted Luna from the dog’s whimpering. “I have analysed the data found on the computers. They are incomplete, but there are multiple references to the Crystal Rose unveiling, alternate schematics for the ship, and vulnerability maps for the ship’s integrator circuits. There is also a set of schematics for an experimental crowd control device.”
“I have an inkling of Suri Polomare’s plan,” said Luna. “Forward those data to Twilight Sparkle, she will find the pattern. The unveiling is in five hours, we have no time to lose!”
There was a tinny cough. “Erm, Fido has helped you, Fido is going to leave now—” He yelped as Luna yanked him back with telekinesis.
“You’re coming with me,” said Luna, harshly.
Luna stepped out of the back room, turned the corner into the bar proper, and came face to face with the hit squad.
Five robodogs, all carrying belt-fed machineguns, stopped in their tracks. Luna looked at them, and shimmered.
The dogs opened fire. The muzzle flashes of their guns drained the light away from the room as they poured hundreds of bullets into Luna. The building shook from the impacts, wooden beams splintered, and concrete dust filled the room. Screaming, shouting, the hit squad fired until all five of their guns ran empty. They coughed dust from their lungs, and peered forward.
“Big pony is dead?” asked one. He flicked on a flashlight slung under the gun, peering into the cloud of dust.
“Of course big pony is dead, no pony could survive—”
The dust cleared to reveal Space Princess Luna standing in the same spot, utterly unharmed. Four dogs barked in shock and began to reload in a panic. The fifth, smarter than his comrades, pulled out his sidearm and fired four more times.
He was smart enough to see the bullets pass straight through her, and almost quick enough to scream “Hologram!” before the real Space Princess Luna appeared behind him. He yelped and fell unconscious as Luna zapped him with the electro-pulsar. Two of the others could do nothing but turn before the haft of Luna’s spear swept their legs out from underneath them. The fourth fumbled for his sidearm, but the fifth, who had finished reloading, squeezed his trigger in a panic and shot his only standing ally to death. He tried to aim at his adversary, but a kick to the jaw knocked him cold.
With two more bursts from the electro-pulsar, all of her opponents were defeated.
“Methinks Suri Polomare should invest in a better class of hench—” was all Luna said before a slug slammed into her armored barding. She stumbled, dove into cover, and carved an arc in the air with Selene to create her mage-shield.
A giant of a robo-dog stood in the doorway. He was two feet taller than Luna, grotesquely muscular in build, and outfitted with a terrifying array of cybernetics.
“I am Rex,” growled the giant. “You will know my name as I carve it into your flesh.”
“I grow tired of defeating your kind,” replied Luna.
The dog laughed, wet and throaty. “You will find, hrk, that I am no ordinary chew-toy...” As he spoke, four powerful combat computers floated from his armor and circled his head.
“ABACUS, duel mode!” commanded Luna. Her AI ran its protocols, and her vision changed. The bar was no longer a bar full of smoke and wood and bodies, it was a series of planes that converged around her opponent. Surfaces were not defined by color or texture, but the available directions of movements they provided. A thousand lines sprang across her vision, all vectors of attack, differing in brightness by probability of success and retaliation. The lines changed color as different fight strategies ran through her mind.
She saw her opponent in hypervision. She knew his exact height (8’2”), his exact weight (344lb), and his flesh-to-machine ratio (9:5). His major muscle groups were highlighted to show not only his possible but his preferred angles of movement. All of his weapons glowed red—a laser eye, a wrist-mounted slug cannon, a phaseoblaster with neural implants for ease of targeting, and a trio of foot-long combat claws embedded in each of his wrists.
Luna knew that the giant’s combat computers were analyzing her similarly. Neither dog nor Space Princess dared start the battle yet, as too much information remained unknown. Such fights inevitably began with verbal sparring.
“Lay down your weapons, dog,” spat Luna, “you cannot defeat me.”
The giant chuckled. “You cannot escape with false bravado, pony. Allow me to take your horn, and I will permit you to live as my pet.”
“I will kill you for that insult alone, cur.”
“Then do so,” he said, mockingly. “You have sixty viable attack angles for your spearhead, and another twenty-three for the shaft. By the time you have plotted a route, my phaseoblaster will have ripped through your shields and left you defenseless.”
Luna grinned. “Is that so?”
She lunged, spear aimed for his heart. He shot his phaseoblaster from his hip, only for Selene’s blade to intercept and reflect the beam at him. He dodged with frightening speed and fired his slug-cannon. Three metal bullets shot out as Luna cast a field of magical repulsion, obliterating the attacks and forcing Rex to dodge once more. The exchange ended with both combatants having switched positions, Rex aiming his weapons at Luna, Luna casting a powerful shield.
“That was a truly stupid feint,” said the giant. “I now know that you are capable of beam deflection, and have integrated it into my strategy.”
“And I now know the full schematics of both of your pistols,” replied Luna. “Your dive lost you twenty different patterns of attack. Our next exchange will lose you more. Lay down your weapons and you will have your life, if not your freedom.”
“Dumb pony, you have not seen half of my arsenal!” roared Rex. All of his combat computers glowed, as did a phase-shifter on his belt.
Four grenades teleported into the air, first where Luna was, and also where she would move to. Luna moved anyway, cutting through two in a graceful sweep of Selene, diving away from one, and freezing the fourth with her magic. The bar shielded her from the blast, and when she leapt from cover, she reactivated the remaining grenade and teleported it next to the dog’s ear.
Rex laughed as the remaining grenade fell to the ground with a dull ‘clunk.’ “Any combat computer can deactivate its owner’s grenades, and my four computers are unthinkably powerful!”
He did not laugh when one of his four orbiting combat computers fell to the ground with a similar clunk, its lights winking out. Then a bar-stool smashed into his face.
He fired both pistols, slinging beams and shells into the air, but Luna attacked with fearsome speed, carving missiles out of the air and forcing Rex into increasingly vulnerable positions. Selene’s blade and the blaster’s beams split the very air until the bar was tinged with ozone and hate.
Rex trapped the spearblade with his own wrist-blades, and quickly raised his slug-cannon to perform the killing blow. He realised his mistake as Selene’s blade phased out of existence, escaping the trap, and then reappeared an inch away from his gun. He howled with frustration as his sidearm was sliced in half, and leapt back to avoid losing his entire hand.
Luna declared triumphantly, “Fool! In deactivating your own grenade, you allowed ABACUS to override your shutdown protocols and destroy one of your combat computers.”
An evil grin crossed the giant’s face. “You are double the fool, having overcommitted to your cyberattack! My remaining computers have infiltrated your memory cores and are analyzing every single attack pattern you have ever used! There is no combination of movements you can make that will not lead to your death, I am already victorious!”
He fired his phaseoblaster for his finishing attack. Luna dodged, spun Selene in a dizzying arc, and sliced all three combat computers cleanly out of the air. With a flourish, she returned to her original position, leaving Rex to stand there in shock.
“What—how?!” he sputtered.
“That memory core was a fake,” explained Luna. “It was created to house every move I could possibly make—except for the one I planned to use on you. Your computers were so overtaxed processing my decoy that they could not detect my trap. You have no computers and no hope of victory. Submit!”
“Never!” He raised his phaseoblaster, firing blindly. Luna’s spear cut along his weapon arm, severing tendons and forcing him to drop his remaining pistol. Both sets of wrist-blades came out, but as he lunged, telekinesis caught his leg and he fell to the ground. Luna thrust her spear through his head and slew him.
Luna’s vision returned to normal. The duel was over. The bar was a mess of blood, bullets, and debris. The three unconscious robo-dogs had been killed by Rex’s reckless use of weapons.
Fido peered out of the back room and surveyed the destruction. He whimpered, looked upon Luna in terror, and scampered away with his tail between his legs. Smoke began to curl from the back room. He’d had the sense to start a fire before he left.
Luna shook the dust from her body, pulled her spear from Rex’s corpse, and left. She had no time to lose.
She received a message from Twilight Sparkle shortly before arriving at the Primary Spaceport. Twilight had uncovered Suri Polomare’s true plan, an act of crime so massive it would make her the richest mare in the galaxy. The adroit administrator had her own plan, however. If it succeeded, Suri would be exposed and Luna’s name cleared in one stroke. If it failed, the consequences for New Canterlot would be unthinkable. All Luna could do in the meantime was run towards the megaship.
The Crystal Rose was a colossus, seven-hundred meters long and two-hundred meters tall. Replicator drones had reshaped the exterior from its clunky, previous-century origins to the sleek angles of modern spacecraft. The ship was docked inside a miniature space-bay, encased in hyperglass. The entire ship could be viewed from the port. A cavernous glass tunnel led into the passenger gate.
Space Princess Luna said a prayer to a forgotten god, wrapped herself in shadow, and slipped inside the ship.
Rich motifs of gold and orange decorated the interior. The carpets underhoof were crimson and decadently plush, murals from antiquity decorated the ceilings, and lighting-drones sprayed puffs of chocolate and cinnamon scent into the air. Luna walked past groups of ponies touring the ship. Holograms showcased all of the innovations and luxuries, from stasis pods to spas, from light design to gravity, catering to engine specs, all to a chorus of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from the viewers. A concierge-bot passed out augmentation spectacles at the front entrance, which displayed data for everything a viewer looked at, and could bring up development, implementation brochures, and pricing with a thought.
Luna swiftly made her way to the central ballroom, where the party was already in full swing. The atmosphere was more reserved than the Tangerine—all the ponies in attendance wore suits and dresses, and there was nary a fondue pot in sight—but no less jovial. Champagne poured from fountains, and waitbots decorated like penguins carried trays of chocolates and canapes.
The attendees were the epitome of wealth and prestige. Luna recognised many of New Canterlot’s movers and shakers from a cursory glance around the room. Jet Set and Upper Crust. Sapphire Shores. Filthy Rich and his starstruck teenaged daughter. Hoity Toity discussing couture with Photo Finish. Duke Blueblood flirting with another dignitary’s bodyguard, an orange pegasus with a perfect blue mane. The recently-redeemed Sunset Shimmer.
Other guests she knew as visitors from faraway worlds. Dignitaries from Barbamouche and Marmorie wearing satin suits with woolen ties. Mares of Baima in elegant ao dais. Vulgar-yet-charming merchant princes from Old Manehattan, who spoke with electronic cigars dangling between their lips.
Luna wove through these crowds, masked in dark and magic. She had not seen Twilight Sparkle, but ABACUS relayed a message from Twilight’s own companion AI: the preparations were complete.
The lights dimmed, the holograms waved and faded, and a quieting rippled through the room. One by one, floor lights lit up on the stage at the far end of the ballroom. Holographic blueprints for the Crystal Rose shimmered into existence, forming the backdrop.
When all the guests were hushed to whispers, and all eyes were on the stage, Suri Polomare stepped out.
“Hello, friends, and welcome to the Crystal Rose,” she announced. Her voice was warm and gracious, with nary a hint of the malice that lay beneath. “This ship is the pinnacle of the renovator’s craft. Like all endeavors of this size, it was truly a team effort. Fancy Pants Fabricators provided the designs and innovations, and they have deftly solved problems where lesser companies would create more. My own company, Suricorp Contracting, provided the personnel and know-how to make this project cost effective. Anypony here who knows Fancy or myself won’t be surprised at this: he’s easy, and I’m cheap.”
That line drew a laugh from the crowd. She grinned, basked for a moment, and continued:
“Now, Fancy Pants will be on stage shortly to really get this party rolling—vodka and paper hats will be involved, I’m sure—but first! I would like to propose a toast.” She raised her glass high, and said, “To everypony who made this project possible, to everypony here tonight to witness a new era in ship design, to all of New Canterlot—”
“To celebrate before victory is to tempt Fate herself, Miss Polomare.” Luna had shed her cloak of shadow, and stood before the stage.
Suri reeled with shock. “You! Wretched thief and criminal, you dare show your face here tonight? Somepony, call the lawbots!”
Luna chuckled darkly. “The lawbots are on their way already. It would do you well to worry, Miss Polomare, as this ship is filled with off-specification equipment, installed by unknowing technicians.” ABACUS deftly controlled the holographic display behind the stage, and displayed two sets of blueprints, one of the ship as it should be, another of the ship as it was. A few of the more technically-minded ponies in the room began to mutter. “Stolen schematics. Illegal technology. I could not have installed these things here. You could.”
“Lies—”
“Stay your tongue, wretch! Look upon these blueprints. They are false! One room is identified as a cargo hold, and another as a luxury spa. ABACUS, show on the ship cameras exactly what lies within these areas!”
The background hologram changed again, this time to two live video feeds, one labelled ’spa’ and the other ‘hold’. The spa was a small barracks, filled with several dozen armed mercenaries. The hold appeared to be some kind of prison block, with hundreds of metal cells.
“Hired killers and a private prison,” said Luna. “Only a pony highly involved in this project could have created these things surreptitiously. One wonders how well that pony covered their tracks...”
Suri’s face was twisted with anger. “I have no idea—”
“Enough. The lawbots will arrive in minutes, and they will investigate. They will sniff out every mote of your scheme, Suri Polomare.” Luna walked forward and climbed onto the stage, face to face with her, and then turned to the crowd. “She had planned to induce everypony here into drinking and revelry, whenceforth the freebooters below would unmoor the ship and sail from New Canterlot, kidnapping every member of high society here tonight. They would each have been ransomed back for an extortionate sum, and everypony would assume that Miss Polomare was simply among those kidnapped. There are honored guests here from every corner of the Equestrian Empire. She could have bought New Canterlot wholesale with the proceeds.”
Suri took several steps back, sputtering indignantly, and as she did her expression changed, melting from a mask of anger into a twisted grin. “Hah!” she laughed, “Haha! Hahahaha!”
She took a light-pad from her suit pocket and pressed a button. Every entrance to the ballroom slammed shut, and she cackled maniacally. Several guests screamed, and two fainted on the spot. “You fools!” cried Suri. “You thought my pirates were going to seize you? I would not risk such precious cargo like so. I have something much better!”
Pressing a second button, the ballroom’s central chandelier descended six feet, revealing a cylindrical device connecting it to the ceiling. The device was dark metal, covered in threatening prongs, and its core pulsed with energy.
“I present to you the Beamtheon Protest Squisher Mark Five! It has already acquired the heat signatures of every pony in this ship, and when I press this button it will teleport each of you to your individual cells!” she cried. “I will perform brute-force memory wipes on everypony I ransom, and I’ll sell anypony who cannot be trusted to the salt mines of Tros! The Broker wins again!”
With a final, triumphant laugh, she pressed the third button.
Nothing happened.
She pressed again, harder this time. Then twice, three times, then frantic, desperate mashing. “Work, damn you, hurry up and work—”
“If I may?”
A purple unicorn in an administrator’s cassock had walked up onto the stage, bearing a satisfied smile. She gently took the light pad from the stunned Suri, and then held the button down. The Protest Squisher whirred to life—
—and began to play calliope music. Colorful lights twinkled from within. The doors to the ballroom slid open.
Suri looked up at the cheerful spectacle, uncomprehending and despairing. “...How?”
“You see,” said Twilight Sparkle, “when Luna sent me the notes and plans that your hired goons neglected to destroy, I thought it would be a good idea to disable this device of yours. So, I did. Ironically, if you had known how the Protest Squisher worked, you would have discovered my tampering with two taps of your light pad. Fortunately, you stole the design without understanding it, and sealed your downfall.”
“You can’t do this!” screamed Suri. “I hatched the perfect scheme!”
“And provided a perfect confession. Thank you, Miss Polomare.”
The lawbots descended with characteristic alacrity, a five-bot team dragging away the babbling Suri Polomare in holo-cuffs, a breaching team storming further into the ship to arrest the unknowing team of mercenaries, and several dozen more evacuating the hundreds of stunned guests. For the first time that evening, Luna felt a quantum of respite. She knew it was not to last, however. The lawbots would have their questions, a passel of journalists would have many more, then the thank-yous and follow ups would come and she would wait days before she had another moment to herself.
With that in mind, she cast a spell and spirited Twilight Sparkle away.
They ran to the Friendship Dome, to the Bayard River Delta, all the way to the Lenitates, a series of gentle waterfalls through the jungle valley. They passed through a hamlet lit by firefly lamps, walking down dirt roads where old mares tended stalls at the side, selling noodles in broth and hot-and-numbing tofu. At the far end of the hamlet lay a clearing, overlooking the waterfalls. The pair lay there together, side-by-side in the long grass.
From her barding, Luna produced a flask of star-brandy. Twilight conjured a pair of glasses, and filled both of them. The pair drank deeply of the spirit, laid back, and gazed upwards into a purple sky.
“I am in your debt once more, Twilight Sparkle,” said Luna, softly.
A warm smile spread across Twilight’s face. She slipped a fore around Luna, and wriggled her body in close. “And I yours, I think. Even had I not attended, the kidnapping of every member of high society would surely have put a crimp in my schedule. Entire reams of checklists would need to be discarded and rewritten.”
Luna laughed, and smiled wanly. “You risked a great deal to aid me, fair Twilight. Your interference with the lawbot protocols will be censured at the very least, even with our success.”
Twilight bore an ambivalent expression for a moment, and shrugged. “Perhaps. But, perhaps I need a change. I have been cloistered in New Canterlot too long. At the very least, I could take a sabbatical until this mess is forgotten.”
“Oh? You seek to travel.”
“Yes,” said Twilight. “I think I do. Though, it would seem a waste to travel alone. If only I could find a wise guide to accompany me, one of great strength, skill and beauty?”
Luna grinned wryly. “You speak as if you already have such a pony in mind...”
“I believe I do. What say you, Space Princess Luna?”
“Of course. I ask but a single boon of you, Twilight Sparkle.”
“Anything.”
Luna pressed her lips to the unicorn’s. The kiss came hot and fierce, gentleness subsumed by passion, tongues pressing into one another amidst the taste of brandy and adrenaline. Luna ran her hooves along Twilight’s back, pulling the smaller mare into her. The kiss made way for smaller kisses, tiny licks and tender bites, broken only by gentle laughter and barely-repressed moans. They would lay together through the night until the purple sky turned a pale blue, in the City of Many Colors.
