Chapters Empty Space: A Battlestar Galactica Crossover
The two senior officers entered the conference room. "Very well, Madame Pie, you requested this meeting. What's up?" asked the Admiral.
"Well, sir, it was Specialist Rarity, here, who first put me onto the anomalous signal."
Shining Armor nodded in her direction. "Noted," he said. "Please continue."
Rarity spoke up. "One of the routine duties of the comm watch chief, as you know, sir, is to scan for unidentified transmissions, to identify possible vessels or bases in the area. There was nothing on the bands normally used by Equestrians or Changelings, but we did pick up an anomaly, very faint. I reported it to the watch officer," and here she nodded toward Lt. Pie, who favored all present with a confirming nod of her own, "and he thought it was worthy of a closer look."
Here Maud picked up the narrative. "The anomaly was both brief and faint, in this case 7 seconds and 1.6 X 10 -28 emons per square metron..."
The XO interrupted with a snort, "That's faint, all right."
"Yes, ma'am. Worse, ma'am, we only noticed it in the batch recordings, so it was not possible to get more than a 37-degree-error fix on its origin, based on the detector it came in on, and the detector's orientation at the time. But generally, it appears to have originated roughly ahead of us on our present approximate course. However, since it was a repeated signal, with a 98% correspondence between repeats, I thought it merited a closer look."
Here Rarity interrupted with further information. "If it had had 100% correspondence, it would almost certainly have been of natural origin, and so we would have ignored it. This means that each repeat is very similar, but not identical to its predecessor, much like a video image, sir."
The lieutenant verified this data with another quick nod. "So I ran it through the signal amplifier routine on the comm computer and this, sir, is what came out." Her voice quavered a bit with suppressed emotion as he put the image on the conference room screen.
In it, three pony-like figures could clearly be discerned. The middle one picked up a long, thin object with his horn and hoisted it onto his shoulder, then turned abruptly. The figure on the left ducked the end coming toward him, while the rightmost figure was solidly clouted on the head by the other end. It approached the middle figure, knocked the object off its shoulder and slapped it hard on the cheek, causing the middle figure to stumble into the left figure who raised its own leg in impending retaliation... and there was no more.
XO Luna raised her hooves from the table in disgust. "What was that?" she demanded of her hapless subordinates. "Is there any more?"
Rarity answered, "We have been scanning that band for over four hours now. There have been no further anomalies."
"Four hours!" asked Luna in outrage. "Why have you kept this under your hats for four hours?"
"Actually, ma'am, we called you as soon as the signal analysis was complete and we saw what it was." Maud responded.
The colonel subsided a bit, but asked suspiciously, "How many times did you run it through the enhance routine?"
"Twenty three, sir," admitted Maud, a bit sheepishly.
Luna turned to the Admiral. "Armor, with that much adjustment, you realize..."
"That the scene we just saw is increasingly likely with each pass through the routine to be a product of the assumption that there is a signal to amplify in the first place," Shining Armor interrupted. "Yes, I do." To his techs he said, "Let's see the raw footage."
The white screen filled with static. Seven seconds later, it was white again. "Hmm. Not much to see," Shining Armor remarked dryly.
"Armor, this whole thing is a phantasm... or worse." Shining Armor's steady gaze seemed to invite elaboration, so he went on. "If it's a signal at all it could be of a ponyfight, or a documentary on forestry. But what really bothers me is that it really could be the bait in a trap. Besides, radio is only good for local use; beyond a few light minutes, it's hardly practical."
Maud cleared her throat diplomatically. "Begging your pardon, sir, but without knowing either the source or the original intensity, it could be a stray signal that was intended for local use which has just gone on and on."
Shining Armor, though, seemed consumed by different thoughts. "How many people know about this anomaly?"
"Only the people in this room, sir," Maud replied. "I thought the decision on what to do with this information should come from command, sir."
"Quite right, Madame Maud, we will all keep this to ourselves for the present. Good work, lieutenant, specialist." Recognizing the finality in his voice, the two drew themselves briefly to attention, saluted, and exited the room.
"We will have to inform the President, of course. I want you to bring Dr. Whooves into the loop, as well." Noting his friend's sour look, he added, "I know you don't think much of him, but he is a genius. And the Vice-President."
"Aye, aye," acknowledged the Executive Officer.
"And you're right about the trap, too. What I want you to do is configure two phoenixes for comm intercept and have them jump mostly wide of and slightly toward our solution of merit, such as it is, on this 'signal'." He smiled ironically. "I see you're not happy about that either, Luna, but did you have somewhere you'd rather go?"
The emergence of four bridge crew from Conference Room 3 did not go unnoticed. Specialist Artsy Welling found an excuse to visit Rarity's station as the officers assumed their stations. "So," she said, casting her eyes toward the others significantly, "what gives?"
Rarity smiled tolerantly. "I can't tell you."
"OhHHhh. Something really juicy, then."
Rarity almost laughed. "I can neither confirm nor deny the juiciness or lack thereof of anything which may or may not have happened," she concluded primly.
"Just like with you and Spike," Artsy remarked, making Rarity once more twitch her lips in amusement, so her friend continued in a thoughtful vein, "He is kind of cute, in a lost puppy sort of way. Since you are not so interested, maybe he and I could..."
"Don't you dare!" Rarity snapped. "He's..." she trailed off, having said more than she meant to. "...not your type," she concluded sourly.
"You got it bad, girl," Artsy murmured as she moved off.
Now, Technical Sergeant College Grant was, by his own protestation, not interested in gossip. And, as he conceived of 'gossip,' he wasn't. The nugget he had overheard about Spec. Rarity's love life interested him not at all. The chance of getting solid information that command didn't see fit to share with the crew, on the other hand, was, he felt, fair game. Among his duties was to monitor the function of the computers in CIC. Frequently, he griped to himself that this task would be easier if he could just do one check on all of them, if they were networked. But he would not complain today. Not at all.
He brought up the log of programs run on the comm station. "Four hours of signal amplification," he muttered to himself. "Must have been one long message, and who could it have come from, that it needs amplification?" Moving around his route, he eventually came to the projector computer for Conference Room 3. Strictly speaking, he was no authorized to pull the memory core unless he suspected problems, and he rehearsed the type of problem he was going to claim to be investigating, but this proved to be an unnecessary precaution. Not that the crude reconstruction enlightened him much. But, when combined with the unusual Phoenix deployment the XO had ordered just after the meeting, it would be exceptionally fine grist for the Galactica rumor mill.
By end of the next watch, the entire ship was buzzing with theories explaining the officers' actions, and everyone could describe the video. Although no one had a copy, acting out the scene became a major, albeit brief obsession. But everyone had the information, on good authority, from a friend of a friend who had been in the conference. By the end of the third watch, virtually the entire fleet was aware, much to the ire of Colonel Luna, who glared at both Rarity and Maud on general principles, but was privately convinced that Dr. Whooves has spilled the beans.
"Time was," he remarked acidly as he studied the DRADIS scan, "when security on this ship meant something."
The two phoenixes, once recovered, reported no unusual findings on their unusual mission. And so, having no reason not to, Galactica and her tiny fleet made another short hop in the vastness of the universe.
Empty Space: A Battlestar Galactica Crossover
The sound of Lt Maud's voice reverberated reassuringly across the Combat Information Center, "Jump complete."
Specialist Rarity chimed in a moment later, "All vessels in the fleet present and accounted for."
Finally, and most importantly, Maud again, "DRADIS is clear. No enemy contacts."
"Launch the Combat Air Patrol, stand down to condition three," ordered Col Luna as the tension lifted.
Meanwhile, Spec Rarity discreetly triggered the radio-frequency search program. Processing any found signal would take time, but detecting it should be quick... "Sir, I have... something." She looked significantly at the XO and Admiral.
"Conference room," the XO ordered brusquely.
"Belay that," countermanded the Admiral just as the others were moving to comply. "We won't keep this contact a secret," he announced generally, adding under his breath, "it seems."
"Yes, sir," acknowledged his comm watch chief. "The signal is at a strength of 2.7 times 10 -23 emons per square meter. I am running analysis of signal now. Results should be available in..." she trailed off. "Actually, sir, I'm receiving multiple signals on a band of neighboring frequencies. The new contacts are weaker than the value I just quoted, sir, but they're there. It's a lot of data for the computer to analyze, sir."
"Look for similarities with the prior emissions, Specialist," the Admiral instructed. "And let me know when you find something. If you do." He turned his attention to housekeeping matters. "Signal the Pegasopilis Resupplier that she may commence her refueling route. Calculate and send the emergency jump co-ordinates to the fleet, Ms Maud. Moon, anything of interest in this system?"
But there was not, and the computer stored the incoming emissions and sorted through the flood of data, first ranking them as analogues of the signal from two jumps prior. Then it got to work on the most promising, making comparisons at a speed of 12,000 floating-point operations per second; the fastest possible computer speed according to Cannonn's corrolary to Akarov's Fourth Law of Computation.
And then there was nothing to do but wait. All through the rest of starboard watch, the port watch, and into the next starboard watch the computer hummed quietly to itself, as all the watch officers and crew glanced at it surreptitiously. Coming on duty once more, Rarity checked input status, and noticed that what the computer identified as "continuous sources" tended to quit, and sometimes be replaced with new ones. Curiouser and curiouser.
When the red "busy" light clicked over to the blue "waiting" status, Rarity scanned the summary report. "Sir, the computer has completed its analysis of the top-matching signal. It has a 78% match with the template."
"Let's see it," commanded the XO and for the next 5.23 minutes they saw the same three figures from before, recognizable by their distinctive hairstyles, slap, poke, prod, and hit each other. A few crew members decorously hid their contemptuous laughter behind raised hands, but most just gaped uncomprehendingly. In the following silence, Col Luna finally interjected, "How much chance the computer is misinterpreting the content?"
"Zero, sir," supplied Lt Maud. "Captain Armor and I have arranged the fleet and deployed detectors to simulate a 200km diameter reception dish. This is what the source is sending, sir. There is an unexplained residual of 8%, but that could be interference from..."
Rarity's explosive intake of breath interrupted Maud's lecture. Quickly, she strode over to his station and pulled her headset off, holding it near his nose. Raising one of her hooves, she said, "With your permission, sir."
Uncertainly, he replied, "Go ahead," and she hoofed him. Hard. Looking over to the readout on her console she said, "I've got good capture. We now have the sound of a hoof..."
Maud stopped rubbing her head as her eyes flew open in the Eureka moment. "The residual!" he exclaimed.
"Yes!" she responded excitedly. Across CIC, the XO threw up her hooves. "Would either of you care to share your sudden insight?"
"Yes, ma'am," answered Maud. "We believe that residual in the signal may be a synchronized audio. If the signals at the various sonic frequencies from the known sample slap-sound Rarity just collected match up with those in the residual of the incoming signal at the point when one of them slaps the other, which seems to happen fairly frequently, it will function like a key for the source's audio-encoding system, and we'll be able to hear as well as see what they are sending."
The XO digested this monster sentence and said carefully, "Right. Carry on."
They set the system up to scan for scatter distribution matches near the mark of one of the sounder slaps visible in the transmission. And again, there was nothing to do but wait. Just when it seemed that the wait would become interminable...
"DRADIS contact!" called out the officer of the watch, the redoubtable Maud. "Just jumped in. Contact is a single Changeling raider."
"Vector the CAP, launch the alert fighters, set condition one throughout the fleet," reflexively ordered the XO, as everypony suppressed the familiar adrenaline surge that contact with the enemy always produced.
Out in space, Pinkie and Rainbow Dash took the vector provided by Galactica, and executed high-g turns, the legs of their pilot suits automatically squeezing forcefully and rhythmically to move blood back to the upper body and the all-important brain. Pilots must not be allowed to black out. Targeted on the raider, they quickly throttled up turbo speed and swiftly closed the distance, weapons blazing as they closed on target. But the raider blipped out.
"Frack!" Pinkie cried in frustration.
"Don't worry about it, Party. We kept it away from the fleet. Right now we've got to get home. The fleet'll be prepping for jump already. We wouldn't want to miss it."
Aboard the Battlestar, there was a different concern. "Did they get it?" demanded Armor.
"I don't know, sir," admitted Lt Maud. "We don't fully know their capabilities. They may not even have been looking at RF output. It probably scanned us and jumped back to report our position."
Armor pondered this. "And they would have noticed the arrow of Discord, wouldn't they? Our unusual deployment, I mean."
Maud's face fell. "Yes, sir. And they would have been able to calculate the direction, as well."
Armor's reply was ponderous. "So if I understand what you're saying, we just gave them a starting point and a direction?"
"Yes, sir." Maud's voice was shaky as he thought through the implications of his action, and it seemed for a moment as if he might cry. "We just showed them the way to the source of those signals. The way to Earth."
Empty Space: A Battlestar Galactica Crossover
Twilight rubbed her eyes wearily and tried again. "Now can you move the bright star to the left? No, not so far, and try to keep it from drifting down. I think the two nearby stars were more aligned with the horizon, can I see that? No, the bright start was not IN the nebula, just close. Yeah, all right. Let's see what the others make of it." Maud froze the image and copied it to all the others who had been present in the Tomb of Tirek for their input. In most cases, it was a courtesy. Only Twilight and Rainbow Dash ever made comments. Frustratingly, their recollections were often in conflict.
"Okay," Maud remarked, both to confirm the order and to verbalize that she had a fix. "If that's roughly correct, the origin point of the star map would be here." She turned the NavPlot so that Twilight could see it. There are... eight systems within probable error."
"And how many were also contained in the last solution of merit?"
"Two, ma'am."
Twilight sighed the same sigh she had sighed just yesterday. "If I had known, I would have brought a camera. Or a spectrometer. That would have made things so much easier," she griped, not for the first time.
Maud nodded sympathetically, not for the tenth time. "Since signal strength did not rise by the estimated amount, we may not be on a direct course for Earth. That should hurt the Changelings as much as it does us. Maybe more. Plus, they may know the direction, but they can't know the distance. We should still get there first."
Twilight grunted and gratefully moved off for her rack. She had had virtually the identical conversation with the navigator often enough that it wasn't compelling any more.
Specialist Rarity cleared her throat. Briefing the senior political and military figures of the fleet was not as nerve-wracking as before, but it still put her off. "Uh, adhering to the priorities given to us by Col Luna, we have identified two separate transmissions or 'programs' in which self-directed automata feature prominently. The first is called 'Mister ED.' In this case, 'ED' is a type of biological transport unit. It is the only one of its kind capable of speech. The man he schemes with, called 'Wilbur,' is the only pony he speaks to..."
"We should mark this 'Wilbur' as a probable Changeling infiltrator type, so that we can recognize him if we meet up with him," announced Luna.
The Special Assistant to the President of the Colonies spoke up. "We have added him to the database, Colonel. And we have alerted the fleet so that everypony can keep an eye out, in case there are any of the type here in the fleet."
Luna nodded a grim assent, and Rarity continued, "The two of them exhibit an extreme desire for secrecy. And they use complicated plans to stay covert."
President Celestia asked, "But if they are covert, how did the makers of the video find out about their activities?"
"That is not made clear, ma'am." Specialist Rarity seemed unaware of her nervous slip and went on, "Perhaps the intended viewers had background that we don't. What is clear is that the makers intend viewers to laugh at them."
Admiral Armor nooded. "Holding them up as objects of ridicule might help the authorities thwart their plans. I would like to think that the Earth government is aware of the danger the Changelings represent."
"What does E D stand for?" asked Vice President Whooves.
"Sorry?" apologized Rarity.
"It's an acronym, surely. Like DRADIS. What do the E and the D stand for?"
Rarity looked to Maud, who had viewed as much of the data as she. She shook her head. "That has not been revealed, Dr. Whooves. Again, the program may assume people already know."
Rarity resumed her presentation. "The other case of autonomous beasts that we found so far, and we still have many hours we have not decoded or evaluated, is called 'My Mother, the Car. A car is a form of ground transport, for carrying passengers and light cargo.
Luna interrupted her again. "It looks like the Changelings are trying to infiltrate the transportation network of Earth."
"Or that infiltrating the transport network is something they've been caught at," commented Armor. "There may be other infiltration attempts that the Earthers have not discovered."
After a brief pause in which none of the officers or officials made further remarks, Rarity continued, "In this program..."
Derpy whispered into the ear of Dr. Whooves. "We have nothing to do with any of this. They are deluding themselves. I must say, Benjamin, your species has a self-centered aspect that makes for amazing viewing. These programs are not by us nor are they about us." She ran her hoof up his leg under the table. "You are wasting your time in this meeting, Benjamin. And there are so many other ways we could more usefully spend your time..."
Annoyed, Whooves flicked her hoof away and demanded, "What is the purpose, then?" Noting the looks of incomprehension on the faces of his fellows, he went on, as if clarifying, "The 'confusing interludes' you mentioned. Why would a warning video about monstrous infiltrators contain interruptions in which the use of household products is demonstrated? What is the purpose? When we understand that, then, I believe, we will be able to set the programs in proper context." Nodding vigorously to underscore his agreement with his own point, he subsided.
"Again, I must emphasize that we have barely scratched the surface of the flood of incoming data. When the Chief and Specialist Rarity finish the construction of the decoder, or 'teevee,' we will be able to speed up our analysis considerably," Maud remarked cautiously.
The Ponyville representative asked thoughtfully, "What about the language?"
Mystified, Rarity asked, "What do you mean?"
"Well think about their use of language. Omitting some obvious local idioms and phrases like, 'Why you...' and 'I oughta...'..."
"Sentence fragments," put in the President. She spread her hooves. "Sorry. Once a teacher, always a teacher."
The Ponyvillian went on. "The Earthers have been separated from the rest of humanity for thousands of years, and yet they speak perfect Colonial."
President Celestia frowned. "I don't see your point. The Lords of Co-Ball gave us this language. Wouldn't they have given the same language to the thirteenth colony? That would only make sense."
"That's what I mean," insisted the Ponyvillian. "We have sound recordings going back centuries. And in the earliest ones, there is a substantial variation in pronunciation. Yet this colony, separated from ours for not just centuries but for millenia, speaks modern-form Colonial."
"The Changelings may already have reached Earth and be guiding their language, keeping it from diverging from ours," mused Armor.
"But why would they? What possible gain would that have for them?" the representative asked. She pressed her point fervidly, her pale skin radiating intensity. The only reason for such an intervention would be to prepare the Earthers to meet us."
"Who would want to do that?" asked Whooves, pondering the point himself.
"Isn't it obvious?" she countered. "It is a miracle performed by the Lords of Co-Ball for our benefit."
Silence fell for a long interval as each of them deeply considered the evidence and the implication for their own lives and for the fleet as a whole. "So say we all," whispered Celestia reverently.
Empty Space: A Battlestar Galactica Crossover
"Strength on the Earth signal is now at predicted value," announced Specialist Rarity with relief and a grin.
"Bearing on signal, combined with previous data points narrows the candidates to two. The higher probability is this single sun, here," Maud gestures to the starplot. "But there is a 7.4% probability it is coming from this triple system about four light years away from the most likely one."
“Where would that be?” asked Luna.
“Horsehead Nebula, sir.” responded Maud.
"Good work, Ms. Pie, Specialist," congratulated the Admiral. "Plot a course to the best solution. How many jumps will be needed?"
"Three, sir."
"Very well. Col Luna, get a Phoenix configured for comm intercept. After our next jump, we'll send it out to that 7% system."
"Begging the Admiral's pardon, but with our next jump, we'll be able to determine for certain which of the systems the signals originate from," advised Lt Maud
"Thank you, lieutenant. But that is their nearest neighbor, so it's reasonable to think they will have colonized it before any other system. I want to see what's there."
"Rare, now that we're going off-duty, could you give me a hoof with something in the conference room?"
"I suppose so, lieutenant." Maud pulled up a sample Earth signal on a monitor. "I wonder if we could sharpen the resolution by using a re-synchronization circuit," she said, stepping aside so that she could see the monitor.
She frowned. "I don't see how that would help," she said, moving in and bending over the monitor to examine her results. She moved in with a hoof on the desktop on either side of her.
"We have worked really well together on this project," she began. "Perhaps we should get together outside of work. Maybe dinner at Moon's Table over on Cloudsdale Seven? We both have leave coming up."
She turned around to face her. "Enlisted personnel may not fraternize with officers, you know. Plus, I'm seeing somedragon already." To take the sting from this rejection, she placed her hoof gently on her ribs. It was this action that Spike witnessed through the glass of the door before fleeing first the hall and then the Galactica.
"Really?" Maud's brow furrowed deeply. "I haven't noticed anypony. Are you sure he's serious?"
She gently removed one of his hooves from the desktop and extricated herself from her vicinity. "I think so," she said.
"Now, if I adjust the frequency selector like... so, we should... aha!" Deck Chief Applejack exulted. The screen she and Rarity had hooked up to a mysterious jumble of electronics came into focus. "Check it out. What are they doing? It looks a little like Pyramid. Now that was an easy chance, and he muffed it."
"Maybe the object isn't to get it into that ring," Rarity remarked.
"Are you kidding? Look at the size of the ball. Look at the size of the ring. What else could it be? Whoa! Did you see how far away he was, and he got it right through!"
"Yeah, I saw." She absorbed more of the signal from their new home. "Why aren't there any mares on the team?"
"Dunno. Oh, come on! That's an obvious penalty!"
"Maybe not under their rules." Rarity lifted a phone. "Bridge, Comm Shop. The Admiral asked to be notified when the teevee is ready... That's affirmative. Comm Shop off line."
"What are we seeing?" asked Admiral Armor, glasses mounted to view the small screen.
"It's a sporting event, sir. When a player throws the ball through that ring, his team scores two points..."
"I see. Is there any other traffic that we can monitor?"
"Well, let me try adjusting the reception frequency... There. I've got something now."
"Hmm. Why is that man waving a cloth? And what kind of animal is that? And what's wrong with the audio?"
No pony could answer the first two questions. The Chief listened carefully. "I think the audio is okay, sir. Listen... The music is coming through clearly... And that is crowd noise, just like you'd hear on a Pyramid broadcast, say. And the rest sounds like speech, but it's just gibberish."
The Admiral straightened up. "The Earthers are certainly full of mysteries. Chief, how many more of these teevees can you make?"
"Now that I know how it should work, I could have three more by tomorrow, if I give it priority. More, if I cannibalize parts from ships."
"No need for that." Armor lifted the phone. "Bridge, this is the Admiral. Have the Officer of the Watch set up a four-member continuous rotation of one officer and three crew for monitoring Earth broadcasts. The detail is to figure out, if possible, the type of program and its meaning, and log the same. The officer assigned this duty will make note of any especially meaningful broadcasts and log those as well. Armor off line."
The screens lit up in front of Captain Dash and three deckhooves sitting on chairs, watching the four teevees, with earphones for the audio. "With a little ambrosia, this would be a duty to volunteer for," remarked one hoof.
"Stow it," admonished Rainbow Dash, settling back and reaching for a non-existent cigar.
"Yes, captain," acknowledged the chastened hoof.
"Captain, I may have something here," said Deckhoof Sand. "See? Right here, beside the stallion's head. Would that be a map? And listen to what he's saying!" She pulled the phones from the jack and the man's voice filled the bay. "...vy fighting in Saddle Arabia as El Ray forces attempt to surround the Each armored units. Meanwhile, President Necks On and Secretary Breads conferred on the hotline in an attempt to find a way to end the conflict." Rainbow ended the review.
"A map would be good news, of course. I suppose Necks On and Breads are the leaders of the El Rays which probably is a kind of ground unit, and Each is their word for 'Changeling.' But nothing there really requires command attention, Rainbow, so why did you ask for this meeting?"
"It's not clear yet what any of the names mean, Admiral. Sir, I wonder if the situation is not like what happened between Galactica and Pegasus. Or rather what almost happened. Is it possible, sir, that the Earthers are fighting among themselves?"
Specialist Ritz rushed over to comfort her bunkmate. "Stallions can be such jerks," she murmurred.
Stunned, Rarity requested message replay. Her Special Somedragon's, or former Special Somedragon's voice filled the small bunkroom with pain. "Uh, Rarity... It's me. I've, uh, been thinking. Thinking that we should start seeing other people. And, um, I guess that's it."
Rarity looked blankly at her friend. "When I got up I had a dragon. And another I didn't even know about. Now I have no pony. Or dragon. It's just like before," she said bitterly. "It's just like always."
"Notify the fleet that after the next jump all ships will take a full maintenance cycle," Armor ordered.
Colonel Luna glanced over. "Now? When we are so close? It will be just two jumps away. We could easily just keep going."
"Yes, Luna, we could. But I want to be ready in case I don't like what I see. Or in case they don't like what they see of us." He crossed over to his friend's station and continued in a much lower voice. "Rainbow put me onto a disturbing possibility. She thinks the Earthers may fight among themselves."
"Well sure they do. I fight with my wife all the time. So does everypony else I know."
"That's not what I mean. I mean battles. With weapons."
"Ponies against ponies? So they might fire on us?"
"We can't take chances," the Admiral said grimly. As the President has stressed so many times, this fleet is the sum total of human civilization. Our pony civilization, anyway."
Luna digested this for a moment, then went on. "Since we're getting the bad news over with, I just got the latest from fleet ops. Recycling percentage is down to 91.6%."
Armor groaned. "All right. Usual response. Include the civilians. I'll set a good example by going first."
Luna grunted, "Better you than me. I'll wait until my number comes up." He thought things over for a moment. "It would make a bigger impact if the President joined you, don't you think?"
They shared a sardonic smile. "It would at that," remarked the Admiral.
Spike recoiled from the slap. "What the hell?" he protested. "Who are you?"
"I'm Rarity's bunkmate, which you would know if you had bothered to find out the first thing about her. And that was for having no class. A voice mail! You don't break up with a woman in a voice mail."
Rubbing his cheek, he continued resentfully, "It's not like I've ever done this before. And it's what she wanted, not me. Maybe you should get your facts straight." And he stalked off.
"Stars, I'm a mess." Rarity brushed her tears away and resolutely composed herself. "I barely got through my duty watch. I need to pull myself together."
"That's the spirit, sweetie. There are lots of stallions in the fleet. Not so many dragons, though."
Rarity snorted. "Oh sure, a knuckle-dragger, maybe. Or a civilian. We see civilians when we get leave, let's see, maybe once a month."
"Well, yeah, but there's been a load of weddings recently... Oh, honey, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that loads of women are finding men, so maybe men are starting to get serious or... oh, what do I know?"
"Is that thing working?" Armor growled at the news team.
"Yes, Admiral."
"Let's get going, then," he said and punched open the hatch. Corridor air mingled with that in the recycling center. The reporter gagged, the cameramare stumbled. President Celestia coughed discreetly as her eyes watered. "The smell does take some getting used to," remarked the Admiral as he led the way. Finding no reception committee, he located a deckhoof. "Where's your chief?" he asked. The crewman pointed out a petite blond woman in a highly stained worksuit. "Armor and Celestia ready for recycling duty," he reported.
She wrinkled her nose diffidently, perhaps at the high command, perhaps at the presence of the camera in her domain. "Right. Admiral, you can help Jasper here. Madame President, you can help muck out the primary water system filters. Follow me, please."
"We're in the recycling spaces aboard Galactica," chirped the reporter engagingly. "Every ship configured for long-duration space flight has one. Of course, some of our vessels were never meant to be in space for as long as we have been, and so other ships have had to take on their garbage. Especially Galactica.
"We've all been irritated, I'm sure with the pickiness of the recycling orders, and been tempted to simply bin everything. But it all comes to places like this. And I can tell you, the smell is just indescribable. But if recent rumors are true, it won't be long before you all have the chance to experience this work firsthoof..." Her voice drifted off as she tagged along after the President of the Colonies, and Armor could not hear any more. He sat at the bench next to Jasper, who was disassembling a set of window blinds.
"Okay, sir. Would you mind holding the other end of these slats? We've got to get the cords out first, then slip the slats out. Yes, like that."
"Why can't these simply be repaired?" Armor asked as his horn flared. "They don't look so bad."
"They're not. The only thing wrong with them is a broken cord. But it has been determined that the materials are more valuable than the blinds. We haven't come across any good sources of aluminum recently, I hear."
Armor shrugged. "We're always short on all kinds of things." he said. "Shows a lack of prior planning for a cruise like this," he added sardonically.
"Sure. Put all the fibrous parts in that bin there. Mares keep screaming for more fiber. All we can get. Lint from the laundry dryers. Everything."
Armor eyed him quizzically. "Mares?"
Jasper did not answer him directly. "Notice the smell when you came in here? 'Course you did. I was only on one ship that didn't have it. Prison ship. Stallions only, see? Recycling regs are strict, and one-time sanitary products are supposed to be reserved for emergencies only, but we been getting more and more and more every jump. There been some increase in emergencies that I don't know about?" When Armor did not reply, he continued, "Bad idea, if you ask me. Having mares on board. They are the first ponies to break the regs, and some officers and chiefs cut them slack on it. But there's no hiding it from us. Not down here. Well, that's the blinds done. Let's go disassemble some of them emergency leftovers."
Rarity opened the door. "Oh. It's you," she remarked with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
"Look, I'm sorry for being so... abrupt in my message. It's just that I've never done it before, so..." he trailed off, lost before her icy gaze.
"So you regret having no class, but you don't regret what you did to me," she snapped. "Got it." And she tripped the hatchclose.
But his foot blocked it. "What I did?" he blazed. "What I did? What about what you did? You and that girl Maud? I didn't know you swang that way."
"Get out!" she yelled, enforcing her will with a magical shove that sent Rarity staggering back to the bulkhead. "Break up with me if you want, but don't try to make it like it was my fault!"
He stood confused for a moment. "You didn't want to break up?" he asked uncomprehendingly, then read the answer in her eyes. Slumping, he said, "I'm such an idiot."
Staring at the floor, he could not see her face soften as she said, "You got one thing right anyway."
Turning, he slouched miserably away and mumbed, "You'll never want to marry me now. I just thought after...AHH!" he shrieked as she whipped him around and pinned him to the wall, much to the consternation of passers-by. "I'm sorry," he said automatically. "I know it was presumptuous of me to think I might get the most beautiful woman in the fleet. I know you must be pissed, but..." Whatever else he might have said was lost as she stopped his lips with her own. She dragged him by main force back in to her quarters and hit the hatchclose. It was only an hour later that they realized Spec. Ritz must have passed them on the way in, off on some suddenly urgent errand.
Afterward, she propped herself up on an elbow and asked, "So you've never broken up with a woman before?"
"Uh, no. No, I haven't."
"You do suck at it."
"Hopefully, it's a skill I'll never need."
She smiled. "So all of your girlfriends broke up with you?"
He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Ah. Well. I haven't, uh, really had a girlfriend before. I mean, not a real one."
"Really? You mean I'm the first mare you ever..."
"Oh, come on. I'm sure you could tell."
She considered this briefly. "No, not really. It was kind of... average."
Stung, he sat bolt upright. "Average? Average?"
"Okay, okay. I meant it was not amateurish. In fact, it was exciting, it was satisfying. It was..."
"Don't do that. Don't lie to me. Don't ever lie to me. If it was average, it was average." He paused, trying to put his feelings into words.
"I wasn't lying. It was just as I said. It's different for women. Emotionally, it was perfect, and that's what really counts."
She started to say something more, but he forestalled her with a finger on her lips. "It's just that you deserve so much better than just average." He looked directly into her eyes. "Teach me," he said sincerely. "Teach me everything."
She evaluated him carefully, then pushed him gently onto his back. "Since you mention it, there is something I'd like to show you."
Sweaty, exhausted and deeply satisfied, they lay together catching their breath. "Wow." he said.
She pushed a stray lock out of his face then realized how askew her own must be. So she stood up and checked her look in the mirror. He arose also and joined her, kissing her neck gently. Savoring this, she asked suddenly, "Did you mean that before? You think I'm beautiful?"
"Most beautiful woman in the fleet? Of course I meant it. How can you even ask me that? This mirror does work, you know."
"Okay, but don't you think my nose is too big? And my mane. I've never liked my mane."
He hugged her tight, despite being mystified at her mane comment. "Don't ever run down my fiance again. I don't understand women at the best of time, but this makes no sense at all. I mean, look at you. Just look at you." He took her brush and began working it through her mane. His eyes sunk half-closed and he murmured over her shoulder, "Silky and glistening, soft yet strong. Mmm. And your skin. Smooth and perfect. Eyes that glow with the inner fire. You might be an avatar of Cadence, ruler and breaker of the hearts of men."
She looked into his reflected eyes, searching for mockery. "You better be careful, talking like that," she warned.
"Why?"
"Armor and Cadence were a thing."
“WHAT?! I THOUGHT SHE WAS MYTHICAL!”
Rarity turned and faced Spike.
“Got you. I guess I'm just a little naughty.”
He shrugged, "I'm not chafed yet," and they let nature take its course. Again.
Empty Space: A Battlestar Galactica Crossover
"Phoenix one is secure on board, sir."
"I'll take the report in the conference room. Colonel Luna, you're with me."
The report puzzled the Admiral in the extreme. "No activity of any kind?"
"No, sir. No observed ships, no observed lights on any body in the system, no comm traffic, no power-generation signatures. We maneuvered through the system without challenge. If there's anypony there, they're very well hidden."
"That's peculiar. If it was me, I'd want bases, early warning stations, at least a monitor buoy."
Armor scowled, sure that somehow there was a key to this puzzle that he just needed to grasp and all would make sense. "We have to remember that the Earthers have been separated from us for so long that their viewpoint may be hard to understand. Alien, almost."
"It's a long way to come to find aliens. We've always assumed that if we ever found any, it would be by stumbling into them."
"Let's hear what Lt Maud has to say." He picked up a phone. "CIC, this is the Admiral. Tell Ms Maud we're ready for his briefing in the conference room. Armor off line."
The named officer appeared at the door. Saluting his superiors, he began at a nod from the Admiral. "We can now definitely confirm that the signal is in fact coming from the single system which was our leading candidate before. While the fleet has been in maintenance, I have been studying the system. I believe there are four large planets, probably gas giant type, and several smaller bodies, including moons of the large planets. I believe, based on spectrum shifts in the earth signal, that it is a planet in its own right, and not one of the moons.
"Another feature that we have noted in our monitoring is that the proportion of out-of-language broadcasts is rising. In fact, we have identified one that appears to be a language instructional video. I know I'm going out on a limb here, but it seems as though the Earthers have more than one language."
Luna snorted. "Why bother creating a new language? What possible gain would there be to justify the enormous cost?"
Armor pursed his lips. "Different people, different priorities. Do you have any speculation on why, lieutenant?"
Maud shifted uncomfortably. Out of the realm of fact, she always felt exposed; to error, to uncertainty. "It may be a security measure, a way to encrypt messages. It could be a way to separate one group from another, the way we color-code lines and tubes according to function."
Spike heaved up on an elbow, struck by a sudden thought. "Why aren't you an officer?"
Rarity blinked at him. "We can't all be officers. Somepony has to do the actual work." Spike snorted.
"Well, yeah. Sure. But I've talked to lots of officers, and at least half of them have less on the ball than you do. Don't they pick out officer candidates during basic training?"
"Yes, but you have to volunteer for it."
"Well, then, why didn't you?"
"I don't know. Officers have a lot of responsibility, and I guess I just wanted to do a job I knew I could handle and not have all that burden. Nopony wants to hear from me, anyway." Spike laughed out loud. She slugged him. In the arm. Hard. "Don't laugh at me, I was being serious."
"Ow," he yelled. "I wasn't laughing at you, not exactly. You should read the stuff we have to wade through from the public comment link. The occasional intelligent post is such a relief."
"But things work out better if responsibility is given to the most capable, not to those who want it the most." There was a brief silence. "Didn't I see some sort of notice that the Fleet was recruiting more officers? Why don't you find out who's in charge of it and apply?"
"It's Col Luna, but I don't..."
"That's perfect, you see her all the time."
"Maybe," she said, turning the possibility over in her mind, weighing the gain in prestige, pay, and living quarters against the chance that she would flub it, and have to work alongside people who could never forget her failure. After some time, her train of thought wandered onto a new track. "Is she happy?"
"Who? Luna? She's happy enough, I suppose."
"No. The President. I've seen the way she looks at the Admiral, and he at her. What are they waiting for, do you think?"
"I don't know. It's not the sort of thing I can really talk to her about."
"Sure. And it would be inappropriate for me to bring it up with him." And there the topic died. For the moment.
Lt. Sparkle turned up at the Comm Shop for her assigned rotation. She surveyed the scene before her with some concern. The number of hooves far exceeded the detail he had expected, and only one of the teevees was under active monitoring. The others were functioning, but no eyes were on them. His predecessor noticed him and stood to be relieved. "It's a game. Nopony is allowed to touch the ball with their hooves or use magic, except the 'goalie', who is never a unicorn. This team is called 'Arsenal' and they're playing their arch-rivals..."
"Thank you," Sparkle interrupted curtly. "And on the other frequencies?"
"Um..."
"I see. Relieving you," she said abruptly and formally.
"I stand relieved."
Sparkle adjusted the selector and the game vanished, replaced by some sort of seaship gliding past what appeared to be a floating mountain of ice. "I think we have learned all we can from that broadcast," he stated firmly.
Rarity emerged carefully from the side chamber and back into the flurry of her engagement party. She clutched her fiance's arm and gasped out, "I think I'm going to be sick." She doubled over.
"What is it? What's the matter?" he asked, all solicitous.
She looked up at him and shrunk back in upon herself. "I just told the President of the Colonies how to run her love life. Oh, my gods. What have I done? How will she look at me now? Oh, I can't believe I did that"
"Is that all?" he said, sympathy irritatingly vanishing in the instant.
"Is that all?" she repeated incredulously. "She's the President of the Colonies! And who am I?"
He lifted her up and tilted her face toward his. "Who are you? I'll tell you who you are. You are her assistant's fiance, an important member of the bridge crew of our flagship, and a constituent. On any one of those bases you could say whatever you want to her. This is a democracy, after all."
She clutched his arm. "But what if she takes it out on you?" she asked urgently.
"First of all, she's not the kind to do that, even if she figures out that I put you up to it -- which she probably will; she's no fool, after all. Second, everypony tells her stuff like that. I can't tell you how many messages of personal criticism come in every month. It's all part of the job."
Rarity approached the imposing old pony and saluted. When she acknowledged her, she said, in a voice carefully rehearsed to exude confidence, "I'd like to be considered for the officer training program... sir." Inwardly, she cursed herself for the delay in courtesy, imagining it betrayed her inner weakness. But she did not let any shadow of doubt show on her face.
"Would you?" asked Luna, as though she had never heard of such a program, nor imagined that the likes of Specialist Rarity could ever qualify.
"Yes, Colonel," she replied evenly.
"Well, Specialist, let's say that there's a fire aboard the ship, and it is approaching the fuel stores for the Manticores. Let's further say that there are, oh, five people trapped in that area, fighting the fire. Do you think you could give the order to vent the section to space, knowing that those people would die? Do you think you have the stomach for it? Do you really?" she asked, boring into her soul with a steely gaze.
She tried not to let her discomfort show. "To save the ship and everypony aboard, sir? Yes, Colonel, I think I could."
"You think?" she challenged.
"I could. Because I would have to.," she said firmly.
She left her standing at attention and entered a few keystrokes in the log. "Finish out your watch, then get some rack time. You'll need it. I've adjusted the duty schedule. Report to the port watch training officer for the first night watch. Was there anything else you wanted?"
"No, sir." She saluted and moved to re-assume her station.
As she left, she said, "Oh, cadet Rarity."
"Sir?"
"It's about damn time."
Empty Space: A Battlestar Galactica Crossover
Air Lint awoke suddenly and knew what he had to do. He dressed in the daily use version of his military police uniform, loaded a full clip into his weapon and set off to find Dr. Whooves.
ICANN director Herpony Brown eyed the odd craft suspiciously. Navy brass did like to show off their latest toys. He swallowed his discomfort and stepped forward with a smile. "Admiral Armor? I'm Director Brown. If you would step this way, we can speak privately in my office." It never occurred to him to ask for identification. The new design shuttle aircraft screamed Navy in a way no paper possibly could. Armor's entourage followed obediently along, staring goggle-eyed at the character of their new home. A city, a real pony city, after all these months in space. And with real air!
"May I offer you refreshment? Water, juice, coffee?"
"No thank you," neighed his guest.
"I'll try some!" offered Dash. A cup of hot, dark liquid was soon produced. She cautiously sipped at it, and made a sour face, putting it down abruptly.
Armor cleared his throat, and began ceremoniously, "We had some political people who were supposed to handle the negotiations, but they couldn't make it."
That got the Director's attention. To date, Project Cyclops had only involved uniformed personnel. If the politicos were getting into it, perhaps it had finally penetrated to the upper reaches of the bureaucracy. That meant more money and faster approvals. "Are these people your technical specialists?"
Armor, in his turn, was thrown off stride. "Yes, some are. This is Chief Applejack and Specialist Apple Bloom. They are the technicians. This is Captain Rainbow Dash." Rainbow had evidently changed her mind about the beverage, as she was eagerly gulping it now, burning her mouth.
"Sir! You've got to try this! It's..."
"Not now Dash," admonished the Admiral, earning a strange look from the earthling. Addressing himself to the Director once more, he continued, "I represent the government of the twelve colonies. We are pleased on this historic occasion to re-establish contact with the thirteenth colony. And, uh, we look forward to establishing productive relations with your government. However we have had some difficulty understanding your official structure. So we would like your help in making contact with the proper authorities."
Director Brown's first instinct was to eject the whole lot, especially the wild-eyed blue rainbow, who was now helping herself to a coffee refill. But the memory of the aircraft settling onto his roof gave him pause. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. If this was a hoax, somepony had gone to multimillions of bits worth of trouble. So he spoke carefully. "Twelve colonies, you say?" he prompted.
"Yes," replied Armor, grateful that some common ground had been established. "We would like to contact your political leadership. As soon as possible. There is some urgency."
"I see," remarked the Director, although he did nothing of the sort. "You'd like to see the mayor? The governor? The president?"
"Earth has a president? Excellent. Yes, we would like to speak to him right away."
"Or her," Dash interrupted exuberantly.
"Yes. Of course," agreed the Admiral instantly, eager to avoid giving offense.
"Redbase, this is MandoPony. I have eyeballs on the target. It appears to be some sort of aircraft. Of no design I have seen before. Poorly streamlined. It's got a tremendous thermal signature. There are two ponies in what look like uniforms loitering near it. I do not, repeat, do not recognize uniform type. I'm coming around for another pass. I have target lock with my Sidewinder. Clear, strong tone. Instructions?"
"Damn! You don't usually see fighters in the city. The last time was right after 9-11. Somepony needs to tell the boss, and quick!"
The phone rang on the Director's desk, sparing him the need to answer immediately. He lifted it up, listened briefly, then, expressionlessly, handed it to Armor. "It's for you." he said.
"This is Admiral Armor of the Colonial Fleet... Yes, well, what you have detected would be the Colonial Fleet. I'm glad to see you've finally noticed our presence in your system... We have come to re-establish contact after all these centuries, to re-unite ponykind... Thirteen groups set out to colonize the stars. Twelve stayed together, while the thirteenth went its own way. You are the lost thirteenth colony... Look, you are in some danger here. We can provide you with some system defense, but you are very vulnerable. If the Changelings find you...
While Armor and his interlocutor struggled painfully to establish common ground for dialog, the others started engaging the Earthers in dialog. Rainbow, of course, went first. "What is this stuff called?" she asked, even more effervescently than usual. "Where does it come from? Where can I get some? Where can I buy some seeds? Can you show me?" And with that she steered a hapless young pony out of the office and forced him to guide her to the nearest retail establishments. On the way back, she shouted, "Clothes!" and dragged him into a store. "This is what your navy wears?" she demanded. "It doesn't look used, it looks new." She held outfit after outfit up to check the look. "I'll take this one and this one. But not this one. Oooh, I like that one a lot."
"Um, you can take them in there to try them on, if you want."
"Really? I'll be right back."
While she was gone, his mind finally kicked into gear, as did hers. "Wow!" he said, when she returned.
"Oh, you like this? Good. But I've decided it doesn't matter. Even if it's not my size, I can swap it for Ambrosia, or whatever. Say, what kind of alcohol does your planet have?"
"I can show you that... How will you pay for this?"
"Like for the coffee, I suppose."
"I paid for that. How does a faster-than-light drive work? I'd buy you this stuff too if you could explain that in exact technical detail."
"I can tell you some of it. You spin out some technetium into a wire and wind it around a horseshoe spindle. Then you spin the spindle in one direction and spin a magnet shaped generally like the ship in the opposite direction. When the end of the magnet threatens to touch the spindle, then the jump field is created. By controlling the point of near-impact, the vector is established. The size of the field is set by the net rotational difference as a fraction of the speed of light. The energy released in the jump slows the spinning and separates the active elements of the system. To re-use the drive system, the components have to be spun up again."
He decided that this might be enough to support a patent application, or at least to induce an aerospace firm to buy him off rather than suffering the delay of a patent case, so he said, "Let's get this stuff paid for so you can get back to your ship."
Applejack wandered out into the hall. Gawkers gave way before her. Spying through a hallway window what could only be a computer terminal with an attendant hunched over it, she made her way there. "Nice machine," she said, by way of breaking the ice.
"It's okay. There'll be a newer, faster model out in three months. We'll probably upgrade then," the pony said tersely, and resumed his maniacal manipulations.
"AJ here is from outer space, Wes," put in one of his colleagues, snickering into his hooves.
Wes barely looked up, gaze flickering perfunctorily over his guest. "It was almost funny when you got the one pony to put on the Spock ears," he remarked sourly.
"No, no. She really is from outer space," insisted his co-workers loudly, laughing harder than ever.
AJ shifted uncomfortably in the chair she had appropriated. "Actually," she said, "I'm from Arlon..."
"You only work in outer space. Ooooh. Where have I heard that one before? And say hello to your friends from Rayon and Nylon for me," Wes added waspishly, leading one of his colleagues to become so weak-kneed that he had to sit down.
Chief Jack was not sure how to respond to this, so she said carefully, "New, faster computers, eh? What'll they be, 50 kilohertz or so?"
Wes snorted derisively. "This computer is a 6 megahertz model. The new one will be faster." He addressed his chortling co-workers, "You really should brief your stooges before you bring them in."
"Wait a minute. Six megahertz? Six million? The theoretical maximum for a fully electronic system is 72 thousand or so. For anything beyond that, you need to use biologicals. Even then, six million is totally out of the question."
"Look, moron, this TI 89 platinum can do way more than 72k." Applejack handled the device wonderingly, punching in a few test calculations. The peevish man appeared to be correct, and did not appear to notice when he pocketed this treasure. In a moment, Wes looked up again. "Are you still here? Next time, research your role before you take it on. Now, if you don't mind, I've got work to do," he snapped, and shut himself off from his lifelong dream of meeting somepony from another planet.
By now, more people were crowding in, and one trod on Bloom's hoof. "By all the gods!" she exclaimed, pulling her hoof away.
"There is no god but God," asserted the pony indignantly. "But I apologize for stepping on your hoof."
"What did you say?" she asked, strange emotions churning inside her.
"I said I was sorry for..."
"No. The other thing," she insisted.
He nodded. "It is not correct to speak of 'gods,'" he said. "There is no god but Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet."
"But there are many gods," she countered, her stomach sinking. "Discord, Tirek,..."
"No," he replied, so forcefully that she felt it as a blow to her soul. "They are false idols, set up by primitives to represent themselves, but larger. You colonials believe in such things?" He nodded with her, revelation coming to him abruptly. "I see now why God led me to this place today. God is great, let His will be done. Come, I will explain the truth to you." And he guided her to a quiet place and spoke urgently to her, telling her many things she had never heard before, but which she felt she had known all along.
While they waited for the official representative of the earth government to arrive, Armor had other concerns. "I realize that you are an information systems man, but we have urgent need of some manufacturing expertise." He unrolled some technical plans. "We need these parts as soon as possible." Director Brown had no real training in reading such specifications, but it sure looked to him like the drawings contained the same information as terrestrial blueprints, and in a similar format. He hunched over, inspecting the plans.
"Our government would have to approve any final contracts, of course, but I know a pony who's at Ford now. We went to college together. We might be able to put something together. How many would you need?"
"Five?" Armor said tentatively, hoping it wouldn't be too many.
"Five? That's an awfully small production run. You'd get better value if you make 500 or 5,000." As Armor tried valiantly to process this possibility, Director Brown did not notice the stunned look, concentrating on the next plan, which showed a Viper. "If you want to build these, you'd better talk to Lockheed. I don't know anypony there, but my buddy might. Doesn't look as complicated as I would have expected. A car has more parts. How many of these would you want?"
Armor decided against mentioning any specific number. "As many as possible," he choked out.
"These plans look reasonable to me, but I'm no expert." He paused. "Any why are the corners cut off?"
"Admiral!" chirped Rainbow, profferring a cup, "You've got to try this stuff. It's great! I feel like I could do anything, if I only had the time! And look," she said, pointing to the green insignia, "it has my name on it! You also need to try chocolate. And pizza!"
"How many of those have you had, young lady?" inquired Director Brown.
"Uh, five. No, wait, six!" Dash enthused.
"In about an hour? You better stop right now. Are you feeling any effects? Light-headedness, say?"
She frowned her concern. "No. None. Although my scalp is trying to crawl forward on my skull. And where is the head, anyway? I could show Adagio a thing or two right now."
A young woman detached herself from the crowd. "I'll show her." Escorting Capt. Dash away, she whispered, "You mentioned Adagio. You know about the Greek Gods? Tirek? Cadence? Zeus? All of them?"
"Tirek and Cadence, sure. I pray to them every day. And Adagio. But who is this Zeus?"
"What is this chocolate? And pizza?" asked the Armor.
Director Brown shrugged. "Types of food."
"Food? Really? We would like to discuss provisioning for our fleet. We could use some food and some other basic supplies like aluminum, deuterium, technetium and tyllium."
"Um, aluminum would be fairly easy to get. Deuterium maybe. I don't know what the others are. For food, this is a bad time, prices are high right now. We have seven billion of our own to feed, you know."
"Seven billion? Seven thousand million?" Armor's jaw dropped dramatically. "That's more than all the twelve colonies put together. Our whole fleet's monthly ration would get lost in your daily rounding error."
"Director? The parts you wanted are ready," said a young assistant, holding out the five power system inteface couplings Armor had requested.
The Admiral took them wonderingly. "How is this possible?" he breathed.
"HP sent us a sample 3d printer, Mr. Director. Never had anything to use it for before. If it had had circuits or something complex, we couldn't have done it on the printer, but these are simple prototyping plastic. Won't last as well as purpose-made parts, but they'll hold up for a while."
"Chief!" called out Admiral Armor. "We've got birds grounded for want of this part, I believe. Take the shuttle back up and get them spaceworthy right away."
"Redbase, Mad Pony. The vehicle is lifting. I repeat, lifting right off the helo pad. Acceleration is massive. I can fire now or not at all."
"Mad Pony, this is Redbase. We have comm jammers coming in. Trail the bogey and report."
"Roger that." The pilot called Mad Pony pushed his throttle to the limit and his F-15 Alicorn shot forward, pressing him violently back into his cushioned seat as he raced the Phoenix to the stratosphere. The gap continued to widen, so he punched up the afterburners and raw fuel was dumped into the white-hot exhaust from his engines. Again the Alicorn slammed him back with acceleration, but still the gap widened. The blue sky faded to black as the fighter neared its operational ceiling. "I can't keep with them, Redbase. They're above my ceiling. Into orbit, I guess."
Luna absorbed the report over the radio stoically, stroking his chin. "Very well. Chief, send three of the parts to the deck. Your crew can install them. The other two are for Pegasus birds. Take them there in your Phoenix and install them personally. Ms. Pie will be joining you for the jump out. Reports are that the damaged vessels will need very precise navigation to get safely to Earth orbit. So she'll be seconded to Pegasus until further notice to handle it. Stay in the Phoenix, Chief. Just drop the parts and scoot with Lt Pie. Galactica out."
The jump was risky, but Maud Pie could run it in his sleep. Once they were safely vectoring toward the Pegasus landing bay, the Chief had a thought. "Lieutenant, I've got something that I picked up on Earth that might interest you."
Coming aboard, Chief Applejack hastened to the deck, while Lt. Maud made her way to the bridge of the ship, admiring the improvements the smaller warship had by virtue of its much more recent construction.
"Captain Armor sends his compliments, Lieutenant," said Major Omunda. "He'd have greeted you himself, but he's observing the recovery of our blue wing after exercises. We expect him back here in CIC in perhaps half an hour." Omunda winced inexplicably and rubbed his left hoof while Maud explored the various stations of Pegasus's CIC.
"We've lost the Admiral," reported Specialist Nakura reluctantly. "There's some interference on the ground."
"What the hell?" demanded the XO of the ship. "Get him back!"
"I don't know if I can, sir. The interference is very powerful."
"Now those bastards, whoever they are, will have to talk through us!" declared the watch commander at NORAD in satisfaction.
"DRADIS contact!"
Empty Space: A Battlestar Galactica Crossover
"What type of contact?" insisted Major Omunda with less force than he desired. "A raptor from Galactica, maybe?"
"Sir, contact is a changeling heavy raider."
Omunda blinked hard and long, choking the words out. "Vector the CAP. Jam their transmissions. If we can only..." He trailed off, wrapping his hooves around the edge of a console as stars swam at the edges of his vision. "No," he thought to himself. "Old warhorses die in battle, not like this. And definitely not as battle is being joined." It was a moment before his busy staff noticed his collapse.
"Medical team to CIC for Major Omunda. Captain Armor to CIC immediately," called out Chief Ortega.
"DRADIS report. Contact has jumped away."
"Recovering blue wing from exercises." The Flight Operations tech looked around. "Who's the ranking officer here now?"
"I suppose that would be me," allowed Maud Pie, after surveying the other members of CIC. She moved to the tac plot from the nav station. Assessing the board, she was acutely conscious of all eyes on her, and of the fact that she had just taken command of a battlestar without any knowledge of its crew or status. Their lack of confidence lucked just below their professionalism, she knew. Their blank expressions could cover anything, but most likely it was uncertainty. She could not expect that to change until she had a solid record of achievement. Two seconds passed as she assessed the situation. "What would Armor do?" she asked herself. "An enemy scout has just sighted us and has jumped away," she summarized in her mind. There was only one thing to do. "Set condition one throughout the ship," she barked, and just like that, she was in command. It was easier than she had feared, and harder. The crew leapt into action as the alarm sounded. Maybe she could do this. "Launch the alert fighters. Scramble red wing but hold launch pending further sightings or until recovery of blue wing is complete. Advise Nightmare and Carrot's Bounty. Also Galactica."
She did not have long to wait. New contacts blossomed on the starplot. She did not need the analysis, she had seen this before and knew well enough what was coming. Her command would be as brief as it was unexpected. The new contacts were a full changeling battle force. Four base ships. To counter them she had a single battlestar of the small modern variety and a suspicious crew. Plus, she was to guard the two wounded civilian ships.
Great.
The next five minutes were the worst of her life and passed in a blur. The changelings did not stop to engage, but merely finished off her charges with anti-ship missiles. Her attempt to assist them merely got two of the missiles to lock onto Pegasus instead.
Trying to evaluate the situation as if it were an academy exam question, the only positive aspect was that they were not dead. But even this was due to changeling haste and not to her leadership. Even though she could not think of anything she could have done better, she knew the crew must have as low an opinion of her performance as she did herself. But she was in command, and must not appear to be directionless. "Damage report, Ms...Ramsay," she called out, having to check her security badge. She was the only other officer presently in CIC. Being an ensign, she would have even less experience than her. "And probably ever less desire for this command," she added bitterly to herself.
"Two vipers lost. Escorted ships obliterated. Sublight drive damaged beyond repair. Captain Armor was passing through the sublight section on his way here. He is missing and possibly a casualty. Full casualty count unknown, but likely to be 50 - 100, mostly engineers. Three fires are burning in compartments adjacent to engine spaces. We expect to have them under control in twenty minutes or so. No fires in the sublight section itself, as it is decompressed and open to space. Ma'am."
Maud thought a moment, reviewing how Armor handled bad news. "How would you assess the results of the engagement, ensign?"
Ensign Ramsay looked uncomfortable for a moment, aware of not just her superior's attention, but that of the crew as well. Squaring her shoulders, she replied levelly, "We got our asses kicked, ma'am."
"So we did, ensign, so we did," Maud responded, careful not to shrink from the blunt truth. Then, as she so often did when uncertain of what to do next, she put her hooves in her pockets.
Empty Space: A Battlestar Galactica Crossover
"Changelings? Here? Already?" Luna barked, as though gruffness might alter the facts.
"Yes, ma'am. The warning buoy has the data from Pegasus. Wait, there's more... Pegasus will be unable to assist. Their sub-light drive is wrecked. We're on our own, ma'am. Against a whole Changeling battle group." The tension in CIC rose dramatically. Changeling jump drives were more precise than Colonial ones. And the continuous broadcasts from Earth made the planet easy to locate. Any way you looked at it, the Changelings were coming. And soon. The alarm klaxons blared and crew rushed to their battle stations. "The fleet has emergency jump rendezvous programmed in, Colonel."
"You want to just abandon this planet, chief? The planet we crossed half the fracking galaxy to find?" he demanded. "And what about our ponies on the ground?"
"They have the coordinates, too. And a phoenix, sir."
"Get the admiral on the line."
Chief Nakura went back to her board and did not like what she saw. "Ma'am. There is some form of interference. I cannot raise the admiral or his ship."
"Then try what you did before. Go through the Earth comm net. And put it on speaker."
"Yes, ma'am. There is an access point outside the zone of interference. I am using the same interface access as before..."
The disembodied voice spoke again, setting all their nerves further on edge. "Thank you for using Comcast Cellular." A pause. "Your call cannot be completed as dialed. There is a fifty million bit outstanding balance on your account. Please deposit fifty million bits or swipe your credit or calling card now."
Nakura, ears burning red and conscious that the fate of the ship and a whole world rested on her shoulders, struggled to establish a connection. "I cannot bypass it, sir. It wants fifty million bits, or we cannot get through." She jumped slightly as the voice spoke again.
"If this is an emergency, please say, 'Emergency.'"
Chief Nakura looked over to the XO, who nodded curtly. "Emergency." she said distinctly.
"Just a moment, please." It took longer to connect than Nakura had wanted.
An earth pony voice came on. "911. What is your emergency?"
Nakura searched the room for guidance, found none, and ventured, "Invasion."
"Home invasion? What is your address?"
"No, um, planetary invasion. Please connect us with ICANN right away."
"Ma'am, this line is for genuine emergencies."
"What could be a bigger emergency than this? We need to speak to ICANN, over. Are you there? Please acknowledge."
"We have bigger problems," announced the DRADIS watch officer. "The Changelings are here. Fleet ships jumping away to the designated rendezvous point. Inbound raiders from all four base ships, missiles too. Our fighters are vectoring to engage. Should we call them back? Are we jumping?"
"And leave our people turf side with no warning? And our fleet with no destination?" She squared her shoulders. "No. No more running. No more hiding from our own shadows. Today we stand our ground. Today we fight. Evasive action on the inbounds. Light up the point defenses. Arm the Could-eat-a-pony-in-one-bites" He strode to the tactical plot, whispering under his breath. "By the gods, Armor, I hope this is what you want. But I can't just leave you. Not after everything you've done for me."