No Mare's Sky

Chapters

1 - Out Of The Fire
2 - Through The Ice, Part 1
3 - Through The Ice, Part 2
Interlude 1: To Love, With Love
4 - To The Core, Part 1

1 - Out Of The Fire

The sunbaked cliffs shimmered with heat. Just beyond them stood great stone formations, which spiraled intricately through the air. Natural arches, with no visible beginning or end, were dotted with immense crystalline spires. The landscape was surreal; not even a master sculptor would be able to reproduce it.

“After all these years, the universe can still somehow manage a surprise like this.”

Twilight spoke to no one but the winds which whispered past her cockpit. She looked up at the sky, hazy and red, and double-checked the seal on her helmet. The atmosphere was thin and highly acidic, which was certain to be unpleasant to the alicorn, even if it wasn’t quite lethal.

“It’s a far cry from home though.”

A small hiss emanated from the cockpit as glass separated from the metallic fuselage. Worn and dulled through use, the dust that now stuck to it was an almost unnoticeable addition. Twilight stepped out of her ship, and gave it a quick glance. She closed her eyes and vowed to clean it at the first chance she got. After all, it was only fair for her to take good care of her sole companion.

Twilight kept her eyes closed for a moment too long, and her mind began to imagine impossible voices; voices which called her darling and egghead and sugar cube, and implored her to come with them. But when she began to hallucinate colors that she had not seen for hundreds of years, her eyes shot open and she stumbled the rest of the way to the ground.

The rocks were rather soft, all things considered. Twilight was content to simply lay there as the alien sun glared down at her, almost as if it disapproved of her presence. Her formerly white pressure suit was coated with a layer of dust, just like her ship. She wiped at her visor in an attempt to regain some vision, but thick streaks of dirt still clung to it despite her best efforts.

At least there was a pleasant, hypnotic hum as her suit’s environmental control system compensated for the otherwise overwhelming heat. After a few more moments of torpor, Twilight decided that she had become acquainted with the ground well enough and stood up, sluggishly. She set about deploying a vast array of sensors at a similar pace. She planted every conceivable scanner, detector, and probe into the rocky surface; each one custom built by her own hooves.

Upon placing down the last of the sensitive equipment, Twilight backed a short distance away. The instruments pulsed to life with a vibrant blue glow that pierced the veil of dust which hung in the air. As they began to beep and hum with activity, the alicorn slumped to the ground. Twilight shook her head vigorously, fighting off the last remnants of her daze, and began counting. She typically would have closed her eyes for it, but this time they were wide open – almost painfully so. After counting to 6, as she always did, she tapped her chest plate and waited for the telltale chirp of her recorder.

“Begin log #03754. Twilight Sparkle, Captain of the EQS Harmony. Current location: Polis A-II. Initial gravimetric scans detected a class 3 spatial anomaly. Further investigation revealed that the planet’s significant ambient magical fields have casted themselves into natural anti-gravity spells, producing the currently observed geological structures.”

She had to pause for a moment and wait for her sensors to return data. They too bore signs of wear, accumulated over the course of her mission. There were quite a few status lights that failed to turn on. And more annoyingly, one of them would flicker at random intervals. Twilight made sure to hide that particular one in the middle of the others, out of sight.

Now, they appeared to be slowing down as well. She was doing Equestria a great disservice by not giving complete data sets. She truly wished for a chance to repair the sensors, but she could never shake the pursuit long enough to do so. There was no helping it; the best Twilight could do was gather as many resources as possible and pray for some downtime. She instead turned her gaze to her surroundings and admired them.

Deadly, she thought to herself. Inhospitable. And yet, beautiful.
Twilight found the comparison with a rose to be quite apt; even the color bore some resemblance. She stood up and walked toward the edge of the cliff. But before she could look down into the great unknown below, her visor was flooded with data. Almost automatically, Twilight’s eyes swept over the stream of numbers, and her mouth moved with them.

“… indicate at least 104 Mt of heridium, in rich surface deposits available for rapid processing. Ambient magic levels are 71.8% higher than the local average, and 132.5% higher than the outer systems. Crystalline structures also appear to amplify any nearby magical effects. Recommend development as a –”

An hour of reciting critical information was finally cut off by a soft beeping noise. It was quiet, barely audible over the wind. And yet, its demand for attention was as great and incessant as a siren.

“WARP TRANSITION DETECTED.” Those damning words blinked across Twilight’s visor. She stood perfectly still, in disbelief, as it flashed once, twice. Upon the third, she whipped into action. A brilliant magenta glow began at the tip of her horn, and spread to cover everything in her vicinity.

The light reflected off of the dust that floated about. It painted the surrounding area in a gentle hue, a welcome reprieve from the harsh red. In the blink of an eye, the sensor arrays were collapsed and stowed, and Twilight was ascending into the cockpit.

“Further information included in attached documents. End log.” Twilight tapped her chest plate once more as the glass closed down on her. Her surroundings still glowed with the color of her magic, likely a side-effect of the increased ambient field.

Twilight would have loved to experiment on it, but unfortunately she lacked the time. Her hooves began working away at the command console, furiously. The only explanation for the warp warning was that someone was either coming or going. And since she was piloting the only ship currently in the system, the latter was impossible.

“They’re getting better at tracking me now,” Twilight said, while staring straight at the sky.

She had to wait for the engines to warm up, and looked up out of habit rather than any expectation of actually seeing a ship warp in. The chance of one warping onto her exact location should be nonexistent.

Thus, Twilight’s face set into a frown when she saw the flash of light that always accompanied an object exiting warpspace. As luck would have it, there wasn’t a ship. An entire formation of strike craft blinked into existence a few hundred kilometers above her.

Five radar signatures materialized on the short range sensors. Twilight shot up from her seat in panic, entranced by the dots that descended upon her. Their jump accuracy must have improved drastically for them to even consider warping so close to the planet, much less each other. But after a few moments of hesitation, she sat back down with a laugh.

“Hah! I haven’t had a good panic like this in years.” Twilight would have continued laughing, but several thermal alarms drowned out her attempt. Bolts of superheated plasma rained down all around her, and set the stone below flowing and red.
“Warning shots. Well, they seem courteous enough. Probably even have orders to bring me back alive.”

The lead ship made a low pass, showing off the insignia of the Royal Equestrian Fleet emblazoned across its wings. Twilight’s radio buzzed with noise as they hailed her. But with a swift flick of her hoof, she muted it before any communications came through.

They were brand new interceptors, fresh from the shipyard and far more advanced than the bounty hunters a few systems back. Despite this, Twilight was extremely familiar with their design. After all, she did send back those blueprints just a few years ago. They were built for speed rather than maneuverability, a fact that made her smile as they rocketed over the horizon.

Twilight had under a minute before the formation came back around for another pass, and she had a feeling that the second one would be much less friendly. She threw all her magic into getting the engines running; pre-heating the plasma stream, overcharging the ion grid, the entire ship was glowing magenta.

It just wasn’t fast enough. All five interceptors came back into view, and were bearing down directly on Twilight. She still needed minutes to lift off, while all she had were seconds. Time seemed to slow down as deadly plasma arced toward her.

And time was all Twilight needed. She knew several spells that would give her more of it, but even the simplest one was suicidal to cast on the scale she required. Or at least, it would be back in Equestria. In an act of desperation, Twilight pulled in all the magic around her and cast one final spell. A bright flash of light left nothing behind. She disappeared into thin air, ship and all, and the plasma fell to the ground directly beyond where her engines once were.

The flash of a teleport broke the darkness. Twilight sat, motionlessly, as her eyes adjusted to the night. She ran a hoof across her foreleg to check that it was, in fact, still there. She took in a deep breath and let out a sigh of relief.

The surprise of surviving what would have been a lethal spell in Equestria quickly gave way to cold, hard analysis. Twilight had just teleported across the entire world, carrying over a thousand times her own mass. She looked into the night sky as she quickly tabulated a list of spells she always wanted to try, but were too large to safely cast back home.

The sky still retained a reddish hue near the horizon, but was almost perfectly clear everywhere else. The night was full of stars, far more than she had ever seen back in Ponyville, and Twilight almost lost herself in an attempt to count them. It wasn’t until she noticed the frost creeping along the glass that she remembered her reason for coming here.
“Engines charged, all lights are green. Flight computer, crosscheck all systems… good, prepare for takeoff.”

Yoke back, throttle forward. Twilight went through the too-familiar motions of a rapid takeoff. Inertia threw her against her seat, as she ascended swiftly through the atmosphere. She watched the horizon drop away, and failed to restrain a loud cheer of excitement. With adrenaline still coursing through her veins, Twilight barely caught sight of her pursuers out in the distance. She gave them a salute and smirked.
“Sorry guys, but I have to run. You know, places to be, sights to see.”

The five ships chasing her were reduced to mere specks against the rapidly shrinking planet. True, they were fast, but Twilight was faster. As she approached the edge of the gravity well, she eased off the throttle and stood up.

Twilight pulled a copy of her newest data crystal and loaded it into a container. After attaching a tracking beacon, she ejected it out of her ship and looked back toward her pursuers. They were distant and just barely visible, but Twilight still spoke as if they could hear her.
“Don’t worry, I got you guys a gift. Hopefully it’ll accelerate gravity manipulation research a few years. At the very least, it’ll get one of you off my tail. It's better if one of you guys gets it instead of those nasty bounty hunters.”

With her precious cargo deployed, Twilight sat back down and keyed in the coordinates of a nearby star, just under two light years away. The prismatic yellow-green of warpspace enveloped her ship, as it shot away at thousands of times the speed of light. Even at that velocity, it would take an hour to reach her destination. However, it would take the other ships closer to three. Safe with that knowledge, Twilight curled up and prepared herself for a quick nap.

Exiting warpspace would always generate a significant burst of energy. And so, Twilight was literally blasted awake as she arrived at her destination. She shot up to her hooves as the shock wave rippled through her ship and scattered her dream.

"Can't stay," Twilight said, numbly. She knew it was in response to something in her dream, but couldn't quite recall what. In the end, it was dangerous to linger in this system anyway. Those interceptors were in visual range of her jump, and it was trivial for them to trace it. They would arrive in a few hours, less time than it would take Twilight to get in and out of the planet's gravity well.

Twilight fumbled with her command console for a while, before activating the long range scanner. It was a shame that she couldn't stick around. There were a number of interesting energy signatures down on the surface that only her sensors could find. She sighed and instead pointed the scanner toward her stars.

"I need one far away. One that only I would know of," Twilight muttered as she stared at her display.

"Wait. Stop!" she shouted. Her ship was never programmed to respond to that command, so Twilight had to turn the scanner back manually. There was a miniscule signal, one that even she had almost missed. It was distant and small and, more importantly, it wasn't on any map. Of course, her pursuers could still find her general direction, but they wouldn't know of her exact destination. If they wished to chase her, they would have to do it blind.
"Perfect."

Twilight gave the planet she was currently orbiting one last, longing look. She would likely never get a chance to unravel its mysteries. Twilight laid back against her seat, entered a new set of coordinates, and closed her eyes as the light of warpspace surrounded her once again.

"It looks like we'll be here for... a full week..." she finished weakly as she consulted her status display.
"That's... a long time for just sitting still. Well, I did bring this on myself by going 400 light years in a single warp."

Twilight looked out the window and sighed. The dancing colors of warpspace were beautiful the first time she saw them. But years of staring at them slowly eroded their novelty. While certainly not repetitive, they were too chaotic to hold any sort of pattern; staring at them was like staring at a screen of static. Supposedly, a few ponies had even gone mad trying to look for messages hidden within the lights. Twilight wondered if she had already passed that threshold.

She shook her head and looked back down, pointedly avoiding the windows. After a few more minutes of boredom, Twilight pulled up the tables of data she acquired just hours ago. She tapped her chest plate, heard the chirp of her recorder, and opened her mouth. But the words wouldn't come. She just wasn't in any state to unlock the secrets of the universe at the moment, and closed the tables with a limp wave of her hoof.

In a bout of inspiration, Twilight looked back up at her display and spoke in a near shout.
"Open file, video recording #0001. Begin playback."

A lavender nose filled the entire screen. It tilted slightly and began moving.
"Testing, testing. Is it working? "

The nose backed away and shrunk down into a small alicorn, not much larger than any of the other ponies on screen. It turned around and shouted, excitedly.
"Hey girls! I think I got it working this time!"

Rarity walked across the front of the screen, styling her mane using magic, as Rainbow Dash's voice cut in over the audio.
"Hey, don't mean to be a drag, but hasn't this sort of thing been done before?"

The recorded Twilight looked up and spoke, and Twilight herself just barely resisted doing the same.
"Not quite. I call this a video camera. It can record everything we do, all our actions and noises, all in real time!"

"Oh! You mean... everything?" Rarity turned to the camera and flipped her mane.

"Heh, yes. Everything," Twilight replied, suppressing her giggle imperfectly.

"Awesome! Can it record me doing this?" Rainbow Dash asked, then did several loops in quick succession.

"Yep! Pretty sure it got that too."

"Oh my... that sounds nice." Fluttershy finally peeked out from behind everyone else, after learning that it wasn't exactly the sort of camera that made her nervous.

"Have ta say, that there's mighty impressive," Applejack said, as she lifted the brim of her hat to get a better view.

Suddenly, a pink blur vaulted over Rarity and leapt at the camera.
“Ooh, ooooh, how is it supposed to work? What’s inside? Does it steal your soul? Do souls taste like candy!?”

All the other ponies disappeared off the lower edge of the screen. Pinkie Pie was soon contrasted with nothing but the blue of the sky. And, as quickly as the pink blur appeared, the recording cut out to static before ending completely.

Twilight took a moment to blink back her reverie. It wasn't her fondest memory, but it was still precious in its own right. Of course she was furious at the time; Pinkie had just smashed thousands of bits and months of research and development into tiny pieces. But the recording alone gave the crown enough excuse to invest a hundred times that amount, and the "I'm Sorry I Broke Everything Can We Still Be Friends" Party that followed was quite memorable.

Twilight continued to smile at the blank screen. She then remembered that she never turned off her recorder. But rather than fixing the issue, she just went along with it.

"New file, journal. Encryption: personal key. Begin journal #0001."

Twilight paused, pondering how to begin. Still in the heat of the moment, she managed to settle upon the ideal phrasing.

"... Hey girls."

Twilight closed her eyes, and her smile seemed to grow as she continued.

"I know you probably won't ever get this. But I still know you'll always be there for me. You'll always be there to listen to me, just as I'll always be there to listen to you. And, well... we've got centuries of catching up to do. I promise that, by the end of everything, we'll be all caught up, together. Pinkie Promise."

Twilight swept her hoof across her chest plate, and turned off her recorder while performing the motion. She then tapped her hoof to her visor a bit too hard, and made an audible clunk.

"Never did get the hang of that," she chuckled to herself. "But, for now... open file, video recording #0002. Begin playback."

2 - Through The Ice, Part 1

The thunder of cannon fire echoed off mountains in the distance. Twilight watched as avalanches raced down the peaks looming over the horizon. Every single seismic sensor was tripped, and she had to manually override each one. As the world around her finally settled back into silence, she reluctantly dropped her shield.

“Hostile turret emplacements are scattered across the surface of the planet.”

Twilight was struggling to catch her breath. One had ambushed her just moments ago. It burst from the thick snow and fired several shots at the alicorn before she could disable it. She had to cast a shield closer to herself than was comfortable, and was winded by the hypersonic impacts. A stray gust carried away a few lavender hairs, unfortunate victims that happened to be on the wrong side of her magic.

Another gust made Twilight regret forgoing her full space suit. She was so very excited when she learned that her current planet had a breathable atmosphere. But after several hours spent trekking across the windswept glaciers which dominated the surface, she began wondering whether the fresh air was actually worth it. Shivering, she reinforced a few heating spells and turned her attention back to her ambusher.

“Extreme caution is advised,” Twilight concluded, before turning off her recorder. She plucked the smoldering remains of the turret off the ground and levitated them closer for examination.
“That’s the third one so far. I wonder if there’s anything salvageable this time.”

Unlike the previous two, this one was still almost intact, even if somewhat flatter than the ideal. A quick scan found a pair of metallic rails designed solely to convert rudimentary magical energy into kinetic and deposit all of it into a ferrous projectile. It wasn’t as efficient as telekinesis, but it was creative, powerful, and dangerous.

Twilight tossed the former turret aside. While it was both a novelty and a significant threat, it was rather primitive in comparison to current Equestrian technology and would yield little scientific insight. She instead turned to the deep grooves that were blasted into the ice. They framed the dim red sun perfectly, as it perched on the horizon. It was a permanent fixture there, tidally locked, and would never come or go. This part of the world would see neither night nor day, neither dusk nor dawn.

“It will be bathed in eternal twilight, until the star itself dies of old age,” Twilight mused to herself while enjoying the ambiance.
“Not quite eternal, I guess.”

With a smile still on her face, Twilight stepped into the valley that the turret obligingly created. She began carving out large chunks of ice, which were then teleported away. The alicorn excavated the glacier with ease, using techniques practiced over the past few weeks. She dug quickly, and descended beneath the ice.

A large metallic mountain floated across the snow, lazily. It was surrounded by a diffuse magical glow, and dwarfed the alicorn that held it aloft. The lustrous metals caught the sunlight and rivaled its source in brightness, with glare from the snow further impeding visibility. Twilight grudgingly looked up at the sun, which beat down on her back and yet brought no warmth. She had come a long way via teleportation, but still had quite some distance to go. She missed her teleport, intentionally, out of fear of crushing her ship and facilities rather than any limitation on her abilities.

Twilight cast an appraising eye over the spoils of her mining expedition. She held a couple hundred million kilograms of native platinum, and that was only the icing on top of her incredibly valuable cake. In a single run, she found the minerals needed to do everything she ever desired: rheniite and laurite for engine upgrades, argutite for computers, even xenotime to build new fusion coils, and more of each than she could ever conceivably use. Twilight guessed that she was holding several trillion bits worth of rare metals, if she had any intention of returning to the Federation. She shook the thought from her head, and jealously levitated her haul closer.

“This must have been how Rarity felt the first time we faced Discord,” Twilight chuckled to herself in amusement, even though her rock was far more valuable.

A grin spread across her face, as she reflected on ancient memories. Twilight was able to recall every single one, from the most joyous to the most distressing, with perfect accuracy. Although perfect control of her memories was still beyond her capabilities, it seemed that her mind was blessed to grasp at only happy ones today.

Twilight’s smile barely even faltered as a familiar rumble rose from beneath the ice. The magical grip around her mountain cut out briefly, and the full million tons of it crashed into the ground. The sound produced could be more readily described as a wall of force rather than a noise but, thanks to her heightened senses and natural alicorn propensity for loudness, she was able to pick out a metallic crunch.

“Eight!” Twilight called out, cheerfully. She picked her improvised bludgeon back up, levitating it as gracefully as an oversized boulder could be. She walked past the wreckage in stride, and began humming as her foundry crested over the horizon.

“Chamber temperature, 4000K… check!”

“Inductively coupled plasma stream… check!”

Twilight stepped back for a moment to confirm that she was actually working on the right container this time. After accidentally trying to reduce her liquid oxygen canister, she quickly fell back into her old habit of making checklists. The satisfaction of being able to make checkmarks using physical pen and paper was worth the extra drain on her magic reserves, and served to distract her from the large crater in the middle of the room.

“Power levels are steady, all systems are optimal. Check, check, double check. Begin hydrogen injection!”

A bead of sweat rolled down the alicorn’s forehead as her horn glowed brighter. While the heat did annoy her, Twilight found out that she was actually immune to it a few centuries ago. She was on a test flight using new avionics, and a malfunction turned her solar gravitational assist into an atmospheric entry.

She found that the greatest difficulty was in keeping the foundry powered. Twilight enjoyed casting spells traditionally, but even she would have preferred to do it using magic from her ship’s reactor. Unfortunately, after her oxygen mishap, she would just barely have enough fuel to enter warp and couldn’t justify the expenditure.

“Vapor bleed off, check! Seal integrity, check! Flooding with argon gas… begin chamber cooling!”

Finally, Twilight’s struggles were paying off. She watched the glowing red liquid solidify into a silver-white metal, lustrous and pure. There were still a few steps to come before she could feed it into the atomic assembler, but the rest were foal’s play in comparison to this one. She sat down on her haunches and sighed in contentment.

“Germanium, 99.999999% purity, ready for crystal growth. Ten parts per billion… you’ve really outdone yourself this time, Dr. Sparkle.”

Twilight struggled to not laugh at her title. She had received hundreds of honorary doctorates over her lifetime, but didn’t have the time to actually earn one until just this past century, after civilization began reaching for her stars. She had difficulty finding the time for a dissertation on interstellar travel when she was busy pioneering the entire field.

But things have come a long way. Here she was, many thousands of light years from the farthest reaches of the Federation, and a hundred light years more from her home world. Twilight looked up at the ceiling of her foundry. It was opaque and in the wrong direction, but the sentiment was still there. This journey was the culmination of her life’s work, but no one could fault a mare for feeling a little homesick. She let out another sigh, wistfully, and laid her head down on her forelegs.

Taking a quick break from her forays into metallurgy, Twilight moved to her clean room and looked over all of her sensors and blueprints once more. She gutted her entire ship to salvage what little she could, and created a separate checklist of everything she couldn’t.

In the center of the building laid the pinnacle of Equestrian sensor technology. Twilight sent some magic toward the long range scanner, which absorbed it instantly. It was one of the few instruments from her ship that, thankfully, remained in perfect condition. It was capable of finding and analyzing any star in the galaxy, with the aid of Twilight’s unique magic. Unfortunately, it would only respond to her magic, and served as little more than a glorified telescope when wielded by any other.

It was one of the only two in existence, and would be impossible to replace without returning to her home world, Caballus. Twilight tried to picture herself returning to one of the numerous orbital stations that drifted about the capital of the Federation. She shook her head when she could only see the great golden spires of Canterlot. She thought back to the excited celebrations after her first interstellar flight, but could only hear the idyllic pastorale of Old Ponyville.

Twilight could see the flash of azure that heralded a pegasus impact. She smiled for a brief moment, before realizing that the light wasn’t from her imagination. She sprinted to the nearest window and strained her eyes to scan the sky. She was about to launch herself out the door, clean room protocols be damned, but her radio crackled to life before she could move another hoof.

“—day. Mayday. Echo-042 Delta, hull breach and engine failure. Hostile contacts, orbital defenses utilizing kinetic weaponry. Complete navigational loss, continuing on uncontrolled entry trajectory.”

“Repeat, this is call sign Echo-042 Delta, of the Royal Equestrian Fleet, with complete loss of all control systems and approaching planetary surface at over 19000 meters per— dear Celestia, is anypony out there? Please respond, anyone? Oh, by the stars, I hope I break up before I burn.”

“…Repeat, this is Echo-042… Look, I… Hey, honey? If you ever get this message, I’m sorry. I– I always thought I’d be able to see you again. Please, just… just tell our little girl that daddy loves her. Echo-042 Delta transmitting code black, do not approach. 042 Delta out.”

Twilight stared at her radio for a moment, just a single moment, and then flew over to respond. Logically, the alicorn knew that the pilot was hunting for her, but all that mattered now was that one of her little ponies was in distress – in mortal danger – and she had to help.

“Come in Echo-042 Delta, this is Outpost Amity, please enable a tracking beacon and transfer power to shields, over.”

The radio stayed dead silent as anxious seconds slowly ticked by. Twilight’s stomach dropped and her legs felt weak, as she realized that she was too slow. Her hind legs gave out, and she just barely avoided collapsing completely. And she just barely avoided tripping over herself as the radio buzzed again.

“Pr–princess Twilight Sparkle? Oh, dear C— Thank the stars, it’s good to hear your voice. Beacon is enabled, but primary power is zero all across the board. I’m just thankful there’s someone out there that’ll keep me company as I go.”

“If I have any say in this universe, you’ll be telling your little filly that you love her, face to face. Brace for deceleration, Amity out.”

Twilight sent a quick pulse of magic to her scanner, now even more grateful that it was fully operational. It resonated with her magic and guided it as she reached out. Through the scanner, she saw her stars perfectly. The falling ship was much dimmer in comparison, but was still visible with both the beacon and proximity working in her favor. Twilight reached out to it, and pulled with all her might. Some more chatter came in over the radio, but she couldn’t spare it any attention.

Between the telekinesis and shield spells Twilight had to cast around the ship, she was rapidly draining what was left of her magic. She would have to tap deep into the planet’s magical field to replenish, which might leave it depleted for years. But failure in either spell would doom the ship, and the pony within it, and the distance over which she had to cast them only compounded the difficulty.

The ship – shield, metal, and pony – slammed into the planet’s atmosphere and exploded into a ball of fire. Only centuries of discipline and training kept Twilight from recoiling, fatally, as she absorbed the sudden force. Her shield held strong, but she had to work harder if she wanted to bring more than a pile of ash to the surface.

“Outpost Amity speaking. Thermal check!”

She spared her radio an anxious glance. A reply came through, and that was all that mattered; Twilight redoubled her effort and threw herself back into her spells. After a few minutes of eternity, the fireball dissipated. In a few more grueling seconds, it roared overhead, surrounded by magenta magic all the while. It slammed into the ice and dug a furrow, long and deep. Using the very last ounce of her magic, Twilight teleported out to the end of the trench and stared at the ship, smoking but intact.

She ran along top of the ship, ignorant of the embers that caught at the leggings of her cleanroom suit. The metal of the fuselage was still hot to the touch, but rapidly cooling. The glass canopy rang out as Twilight’s front hooves landed on it. She reared up on her hind legs, reaching her full majestic height, before stomping down with all her might.

The glass, hardened against heat, cold, and meteoroid impacts, shattered nonetheless. Twilight dove into the ship, then shot back out with a pony balanced on her back. She broke into a mad dash to get indoors; while the cold was merely uncomfortable to the alicorn, it would kill a normal pony in minutes. As the heat of the foundry worked the chill out of her bones, Twilight slid her unconscious burden off her back, oh so gently. She drifted some short distance away before also succumbing to the sweet darkness.

3 - Through The Ice, Part 2

A small fire danced within the hearth, casting a gentle glow across the entire room. Twilight sipped her cocoa and looked down at an open book. She couldn’t quite recognize what she was reading, couldn’t even remember the title of it. She was just content to bask in the warmth of the flames, alongside her friends.

The winter winds were distant, muted, and almost soothing in the silence. All were quietly enjoying themselves in the peaceful light. Twilight embraced the feeling of contentment as she draped her wings over the five ponies that surrounded her. She felt a bit colder, but didn’t really mind. She was happy now, and only wished for the moment to last forever. This was her favorite dream, but – no… it was just a dream.

The world began to come apart. Twilight reflexively grasped for the seams, to hold it all together just a little while longer. But she flinched back after realizing what she subconsciously attempted, and let the strands fall between her hooves. That was a dangerous path to go down, one she had tread once before and vowed to never follow again. The threads of the dream hit the ground and melted away.

She became aware of her own consciousness slowly, finding little difference between opening and closing her eyes in the pure darkness. The derelict ship was devoid of all motion, and Twilight felt the urge to stay equally still. Only the realization that her wings were uncomfortably splayed across a few empty supply crates convinced her that she was no longer asleep.

Twilight threw an illumination spell into the dark. She let out a yelp and tumbled into the wall directly behind her, narrowly dodging the orb of light rebounding an inch from her face. She rose to her hooves indignantly, only to bang her head into the ceiling with a metallic crash. She quickly found herself back on the ground, curled in a graceless heap.

“I’m getting too old for this,” Twilight grumbled as she cast another illumination spell.

She held the magic on the tip of her horn this time, and looked around. There were crates to her left and right, and tight walls in all other directions. Despite having spent years within her cozy ship, Twilight couldn’t quite shake the sense of claustrophobia. In retrospect, she mused, an access tunnel was probably not an ideal resting spot.

She shoved the crates out, and shivered as the cold air came rushing through. Twilight shook her head and slowly crawled back toward the cockpit. The salvage mission was a bust, yielding little more than a few months’ worth of rations. There was no usable hardware whatsoever, but the most lamentable loss was the warp drive. Rebuilding such a complex piece of machinery required dedicated factories supplied by entire star systems, well beyond what she could accomplish alone.

That left Twilight very few options for the little pony she saved. She could leave him here, on the cold, unforgiving, and hostile surface. Or she could bring him along, dragging him ever farther from his family and home, never to either again. That would just barely be a kinder fate.

The alicorn shuddered at the thought of providing a merciful end. She could build a spaceworthy ship in under a month, but without a warp drive, it may as well be a coffin. Twilight frowned as she considered his only way out. Rather than sending him back to the Federation, she had to bring them here.

The fact that she currently stood in an escort class ship gave her a slight amount of concern. It was a medium range vessel, with neither the accommodations for pegasus magic required in atmospheric craft, nor the earth pony magic required for endurance in long range operations. Escort ships were deployed exclusively alongside Federation carriers, and the carriers were always accompanied by a vast array of supporting ships.

It meant there might be a full-scale Federation fleet just a few jumps away. While there was no real urgency – no way for them to catch her here, beside the sheer luck they seemed to enjoy much of recently – the looming threat of overwhelming force unsettled the lone explorer. She leapt out of the wreck slightly faster than she would have otherwise, face set grim with determination.

Twisted pieces of metal and slag littered the glacier. There was little left to scavenge out on the ice, but Twilight still took a moment to explore. Shards and fragments of electronics were scattered everywhere, and none were whole. Even if she were to gather every last piece and use every last remnant of magic, it would likely not add up to anything meaningful. She gave up on her brief search and slowly worked her way toward the foundry.

“—sonal correspondence of Equestrian royalty. Unauthorized access is treason and will be punished to the full extent of the law.”

She jumped back, startled by the sudden noise and sharp pain in her foreleg, and turned to face her aggressor while priming several combat spells. She caught sight of an active data crystal, embedded in one of her hoofprints, and allowed her magic to fizzle. Twilight gingerly nudged it with her good leg and allowed it to play. She was well beyond the farthest reaches of Equestrian law, and the threats of punishment meant little to her. While accusations of treason still held some sway, the possibility of any sort of news from home was simply too appealing.

“Sunshine, sunshine…”

She stared at the recording, wide eyed, as the image resolved into a pink pony. Twilight had not heard from Cadence in over a decade, and had not seen her in twice as many years. A pang of sadness gripped her heart as she mulled over that fact.

“Come on, Twilight. I know you’re there. Join in! Sunshine, sunshine, ladybugs awake!”

“… Clap your hooves and do a little shake…”

“And again! Say it with me this time!”

The cheer in Cadence’s voice infected Twilight’s own, as she mirrored the motions in the recording. She was tempted to play it over and over again, to relive memories that she now missed dearly, but she resisted out of curiosity for the rest of the message.

“There have probably been several years between me recording this and you watching it, if it’ll ever reach you, that is. I’ll be sending this recording on every single expedition I can, just to make sure it does. But anyway, it’s been far too long since we’ve talked. How have you been Twilight?”

“Cold, mostly. A bit lonely too, but the stars make for good company. What about you?”

“Things have been… quiet here in the Federation. They’ve been pretty good, but we all miss you. Luna constantly complains about how boring things are without you. Celestia doesn’t show it, but she misses you too.”

As Twilight watched the recording blink away tears that hadn’t quite formed, she began to count each individual light year between Cadence and herself. 4346 and growing, by her last reckoning.

“Oh, I have a lot of news for you! Out of date by now, but at least it’s good news.” Cadence scrounged around off-camera, before returning with various stacks of paper.

“The survivors from New Ponyville just applied for colonial rights. They found a nice new star system, on the fringes of Federation space, with two viable planets for terraforming!”

Twilight looked at the map Cadence held up for her. It was indeed at the very edge of civilization, closer to the galactic center than any other Federation system by over 30 light years, as if they were stretching toward her.

“Heh, did you know, they called the planets Dawn and Dusk? They even voted to rename the star after you, though you’re still technically the one that has to authorize it. They… really miss you, Twilight.”

“We all do.” Cadence was barely audible as she muttered her last line, looking down at the ground. She turned her gaze back up, now somber and without the previous cheer.

“They voted for you to represent them in the Royal Council. Unanimously. I volunteered to do it in your stead. They weren’t happy about it; there’s no way to make them happy, but I’ve been trying my hardest. I’ve had some disagreements with Luna and Celestia recently, about y– …about a few policies.”

Cadence broke into a soft smile, as she lifted up a new sheet of paper. Twilight could see the strain in her eyes, and the fiery determination behind it.

“I know asking you to come back is a lot. But if you ever do return, come to one of my systems. I have your pardon notarized and distributed to every single star system under me, no strings attached. I have the authority to do that now. I even have the fleet to make sure of it, if it becomes necessary. But secretly, I think Luna and Celestia have been giving me more autonomy to allow this while simultaneously saving face. Politics, huh?”

“Sometimes, I feel that you got lucky. Getting away from all…” she lifted a hoof into the air, and gestured back and forth. “… this.”

Cadence let out a long sigh. As she looked up one last time, she held an expression of pure resignation.

“You won’t be back here, I know that much. I’m not a fool. I… I just miss you, Twilight. I hope you haven’t forgotten about me… I hope you haven’t forgotten about Equestria.”

“No. I’d never,” Twilight replied, voice low with conviction. The hologram flickered out of existence as the data crystal deactivated. She tucked it into her flight suit, then disappeared in a flash of light. A few drops of glistening water fell toward the ground, freezing solid well before they reached it.

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” Twilight announced as she teleported into the foundry. “The bad news is that I can’t get you back home.”

“However, the good news is that there’s another way!” She smiled at the only other pony within hundreds of light years. She hadn’t been doing that enough in the past few decades.

“I’ve been trying to develop a means of faster than light communication. Well, faster than sending ships between stars like the postal system of old…” Twilight’s speech died off as she considered her words. She could still recall her encounters with the gray mailmare as if they had been yesterday, despite being almost a millennium ago. She shivered, as all the years of her life caught up with her. Her horn flared briefly as she recast a few heating spells.

“At first I tried playing around with entanglement. But there’s nothing side A can perform that side B can detect: the no-communication theorem. I should know, I spent decades trying to find some way to send messages to the gir—” She coughed a bit, awkwardly, and sat down before continuing.

“Anyway, I’ve got it now. After processing the data I collected a couple of months ago, I realized the possibility of inducing a stable gravitational distortion to delocalize…”

The alicorn shook her head.

“No, I won’t convolute it. I may have slightly exploded a tiny bit of reality on the first run, but I can guarantee it that works. A real ansible, that works almost instantaneously and across vast distances.”

She gestured at the spire that sat in the middle of the room. It was tall and blocky, entirely incongruous with the sleek modern Equestrian architecture the rest of the facility coincidentally followed. The giant cylindrical mana tanks that haphazardly surrounded the base were a particular eyesore.

“Yeah, it’s not a looker, but our typical manufacturing techniques don’t seem to produce the desired result. I call it a Beacon; no matter what sort of shielding I tried, it’s incredibly bright in all wavelengths outside of the visible spectrum. Easy enough to block out locally, but trying to block it at the source interrupts transmissions for some reason. But, hey, it works.”

After a few moments with no response, her smile fell. The pilot she had rescued a few weeks ago was still asleep. She could not wake him; she didn’t have enough supplies to keep him alive.

Twilight shook her head at the rationalization. She herself had been subsisting off of magic for several years, and it wouldn’t take much work to adapt that to unicorn metabolism. No, the real reason was that she was afraid. Afraid of how he would react, and afraid of what he thought of her.

“I calculated everything,” she continued, her voice low. “Your ship had an operational range of 200 light years. Best case scenario, it’s half a month one way if your home fleet is still out there.”

“But we can’t risk it if they’re not. Sending the transmission is an expensive process, and I only have the energy for one destination. Which means you’ll have to wait for help from the Federation. That’s 50 weeks for a straight jump; add in stops and detours for resupply and victualing, and you have to last an absolute minimum of 2 years in the ideal case.”

She looked out the window toward her ship, fully overhauled and shining in the bright snow. It took a month of hard work, but the EQS Harmony was finally reassembled and better than ever. She then turned toward the holographic projector that displayed all of her aforementioned calculations.

“I can leave you with 86.9% of my remaining fuel. Of that, 71.0% will be used to send a transmission home. The rest should generate enough magic to maintain your stasis spell for 25 months. At the end of that, there should be enough left for another few months of basic life support to go with the supplies from your ship.”

Frowning, she checked over her calculations for the thirteenth time, and checked that her count was correct for the fourth. After completing her repairs and compiling her reports, there was little else to do while waiting for her launch window. It was an odd feeling, having so little to do after so many years of unceasing action.

“It’s cutting it close for us both. If it’s not enough for you, I’ve set up a cryogenics facility. It’s really not that difficult to freeze things on this planet. On my end, if anything happens, I might end up dropping out of warp in the middle of nowhere. Though I could technically siphon fuel from my stars, it’s my right to do so.”

“But… they don’t like it when I do that. The new fuel scoop should let me run mana-neutral as long as I’m not in warp, and even refuel a bit if I pass through stellar ejecta. But it’ll be slow going until I get to the next nebula.”

She looked up and smiled faintly. There were another two hours before Twilight could take advantage of a gravitational slingshot to save on fuel, so she pulled the projector over to help pass the time.

“This is the path I’ll be taking; 20 short jumps over the course of a year, if all goes well. Final destination is the Horseshoe Nebula, about a hundred parsecs from here.”

It was a good feeling, finally getting a chance to talk to a real, living pony. It had been far too long since the last time. Though, it would be more accurate to say that she was talking at the unconscious pilot instead. Twilight shrugged at the technicality and spoke on.

“You know, I never saw any resemblance to a horseshoe. And from here it looks nothing like what you would see back in the Federation. I guess ‘Big Red Blob Nebula’ isn’t quite as poetic. At least it’s pretty hard to miss. It’s red, and bright, and huge. Seriously huge, it looks bigger than the moon from–”

Twilight cut herself off upon realizing that he had probably never seen the moon before, at least not from the surface of Caballus. It was highly unlikely that he had ever stepped foot on the Equestrian home world, given the vast size of the Federation. She paused for a moment and frowned.

“Well, it’s really big. You should visit some time.”

The holograms flickered and died as Twilight purged all systems of her calculations. She was hoping for the Federation to come here, and it wouldn’t do to have them finding her plans. Lights all throughout the facility dimmed as non-critical systems began to shut down. After a bit of idle fidgeting, Twilight activated the distress beacon she pulled from her ship. She set it next to her little pony before wrapping both in a blanket, and headed back out into the cold.

The frozen surface drifted away so very slowly. Twilight had to make a small detour to disable the orbital defenses, and just passed the threshold for entering warp. Even though she could leave at any moment, she lingered for a while longer to make sure the Beacon was running properly. She stared down at the planet with a sad glimmer in her eye.

She hoped her little pony would be alright.

She had done everything she could for him. On the other hand she could have – no, this was the best course of action. Bringing him to the Core would not be doing him any favors.

All that was left to do was to wait for the Federation to save him. Though, Twilight did feel a slight bit of remorse for lying to them the way she did. Her primary transmission mentioned only space-borne turrets shooting down a ship, the frequency and galactic coordinates of her personal distress signal, and that supplies were limited. While none of it was an explicit falsehood, leaving out the fact that she wouldn’t be there was a distasteful necessity.

“Hopefully the engineers back at Caballus can reproduce my design for the Beacon. If they can contact a forward fleet, it might shave off a good amount of time. I know I’d want to get home as soon as possible…”

Another moment passed, along with another stolen glance at the icy planet, before Twilight slammed her throttle forward. Once the familiar glow of warp flooded her cockpit, she cut her engines as far as she could without dropping back into normal space.

Twilight gazed into the shimmering lights, this time flickering shades of oranges and reds. She kept staring into the chromatic display of warpspace, trying to extract every last bit of amusement from it. It lasted minutes or hours – there was little difference to her – before she snuck a peek at her primary status display.

“1,641,633 seconds… 1,641,631… 1,641,629… Hah! It’s ticking faster than I can even read it!” Twilight tried to convince herself that the warp would be over soon, but she couldn’t quite forget how the screen reported several weeks just a moment ago. Still, she smiled and began to hum to herself.

The data crystal that Cadence had sent her held a treasure trove of reading material. It was full of legal documents, probably put there by the hordes of bureaucrats that Twilight had managed to escape so many years ago. Despite that, a blessed bit contained news articles and correspondence; in the end, new reading material was still new reading material – Twilight wouldn’t complain, even if it was years out of date.

She had already sent a reply, piggybacking off of the rest of her transmission. Originally, she wanted to encrypt it with an absurdly complex algorithm, one of the many she created during her tenure at the School for Gifted Unicorns, but then realized Cadence would never be able to decode it. Instead, she hid it in the middle of all the data she had collected over the past few years.

She had sent back so much information that it would take the entire Federation decades to process all of it. Even Twilight herself had only gotten around to analyzing a tiny fraction. She hoped that she left enough clues for Cadence to find it. That mare never was an avid reader, so it would be entirely possible for her to miss it completely.

“Well, if she hasn’t learned to enjoy reading in the past few centuries, then I guess she’s completely hopeless. I mean, I’ve managed to get even Rainbow Dash to like it within a year. Oh well, there’s no helping it now.”

Twilight sat and read, to while away whatever time she could. Unfortunately, she went through all of the good reading material in a bit more than a hundred thousand seconds. Groaning, she waved the remaining documents of lesser government officials onto her screen.

“Really scraping the bottom of the barrel now, are we? Let’s see… Senate Transcript #140238, Hearing Before the Joint Houses and Royal Council Re: HRH TS Pardon… desertion, blah, blah, dereliction of duty, blah… Introducing Her Royal Highness, Princess Cadence… For too long, we have been persecuting Equestria’s greatest hero… In light of the Fair Service Act that was recently signed into law, it must now be acknowledged that Princess Twilight Sparkle has committed no crime…”

“Cadence… I… thank you. It’s not quite that simple, but still… thank you.” Twilight flicked her hoof to scroll the screen, and continued reading aloud.

“For centuries, she has only ever acted for the good of Equestria, and we have the gall to remunerate her with aggression. The first and most necessary measure is to invalidate the Royal bounties placed upon Her Majesty. I hope none of you are so craven as to play a puppet and reject this motion…”

Twilight tilted her head a bit, somewhat surprised at the language Cadence had used. She must have wasted a lot of political capital pushing this.

“Well, skipping ahead – I’d rather not read about people discussing my virtues, or lack thereof. Let’s see, final vote: 1413 to 88 from the houses in favor of, 1 to 0 in the Council. Huh. I know Cadence had to abstain because of a conflict of interest. I wonder whether it was Celestia or Luna that voted for me.”

Waving her hoof again, Twilight moved on to yet more documents.

“Now, what do we have here? Proposal Re: Stellar Re-designation, FWD by HRH CAD to HRH TS. Oh! This is the about naming the star for the New Ponyville survivors. Hmm… Vespera, I like that name. It has far more character than λ Equulei.”

Typing on her console, Twilight submitted her approval of the name change. It would take thousands of years for word to travel back, making it an effectively meaningless gesture. But she did it anyway; she owed that to the survivors.

“Alright! What’s next? Override of the Veto on the Repeal of the Harmony Act. Wait, but that—ugh, final vote: 142 for the motion, and 96 against, with less than one sixth present. The bill fails to pass over the veto of Her Royal Highness, Princess Cadence. It better have!”

Twilight stared blankly at her screen for some time, out of pure disgust. She genuinely considered turning back had the bill gone through. The Harmony Act was her capstone piece of legislation; she fought to get it passed, piecemeal, over several generations. She had toppled vast political dynasties in the battle, but her greatest achievement in the political arena was paid for with the blood of her old constituents.

She flinched, as the wicked firestorms danced in front of her eyes once more. She struggled to summon forth whatever atmosphere she could, only to have it all consumed in the flames. Intimidation, retaliation, terrorism, Twilight couldn’t spare a thought for the proper words to describe it. She could only race around the planet, saving anyone she came across as the surface of New Ponyville was reduced to ash.

A high temperature alert finally broke her visions. Twilight prepared a cooling spell, but ultimately decided to shunt the heat that permeated the cockpit into her reactors instead. She couldn’t afford to waste the magic, and instead stood up to shake off the sweat. She was overwhelmed with nausea, and immediately sat back down after working the cramps out of her wings.

“I don’t think I want to read anymore.”

Twilight glanced into the flickering reds right outside her window, briefly, before bringing her cockpit windows to full opacity. She closed her eyes and ran a hoof down her mane, before letting out a sigh. Transitioning smoothly, she then tapped her hoof against her chest plate. The familiar beep of her recorder was somewhat comforting, yet Twilight still struggled for her words.

“Journal #43. …H-hey girls. I… I just had those visions again. It’s… I just tried so hard and I still couldn’t save everypony. We caught those star-damned criminals that did it, only a few weeks after the fact. But… it doesn’t bring them back. I’m sorry.”

The silence pervaded her little ship. It was a perfect, complete sort of quiet that could easily drive a pony insane. Twilight had only been able to stave it off recently by reading to herself aloud. The EQS Harmony was in a low-power mode, so the only potential noise would be from the reactor, which was too far removed from the cockpit to hear. She leapt from her seat and galloped stern, as fast of a run as she could manage in the tight corridors. She only stopped when the calming buzz-and-hum of her ship’s fusion reactor filled her ears.

“Sometimes I wonder whether or not I did the right thing,” she continued. “It’s hard to count how many lives your laws have improved. Every now and then, you get a letter thanking you for helping save their children, or for getting food onto their table. But the more vocal group is always your detractors. Billions, literally, of messages all calling me evil incarnate or a harbinger of doom. One pony that stood out used very colorful language to blame me for his losses gambling on free-range rock farm futures, and demanded that I pay him back.”

She scoffed.

“Of course, I know they’re being foolish and petty. But… it’s frighteningly easy to count how many lives you have directly destroyed. 102,732. I managed to save 804 from New Ponyville, only find them without family or home or livelihood. The other 101,928…”

“I took it upon myself to learn their names. Every single one,” Twilight carried on, as if she never even paused to dry her eyes. “If I remember them, then a small part of their memory will live as long as I do. It’s not much, but it’s the best I can do.”

An alarm rang throughout the ship. It was a general one, meaning anything from ‘almost kind of low fuel’ to ‘zonal dampers are jammed and need a good buck’. It required attention, but wasn’t always urgent. Twilight sighed and turned for the cockpit; it was always better to err on the side of caution when spaceflight was involved.

“Alright girls, I have to go. Duty calls. And… thanks for listening.”

She tapped her chest plate to end the recording, and walked back toward the cockpit. She settled into her seat and checked on the alarm – the Harmony was off-course by 0.5 arcseconds. Twilight typed in the correction maneuvers; it was a minuscule change, but missing by any amount while traveling between stars still added up to hundreds of millions of miles. It meant the difference between loitering around her target dwarf star for a week versus being stuck there, trying to refuel, for months.

The silence pressed in again. Twilight took a few deep breaths, merely to make some more noise, but the acoustics of her ship absorbed the sound. She took a quick peek at her windows, only to remember they were blacked out for a good reason. After letting the timer on her display tick a few more seconds, she removed it with a forceful wave of her hoof. Left with a blank screen, she waited for a moment, then spoke out.

“Begin playback of file: video recording #102.”

A pony clad in a full g-suit appeared onscreen. The suit covered up nearly every feature, but Twilight could discern a bit of the familiar rainbow mane behind the dark visor. She smiled with recognition. She was watching one of the earlier recordings of Rainbow Dash’s experiences as a test pilot. She heard her own voice coming in over the speakers.

“Begin preflight examination. Check fuel levels.”

“Mmhm.”

“Check control systems.”

“Yep.”

“Check emergency systems.”

“Sure.”

“Come on, Rainbow Dash. Keep your head in it.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

“This is serious. Your life is on the line if anything goes wrong.”

Twilight could feel the exasperation creeping back, even centuries later. Rainbow Dash loved being a test pilot. It was a way to keep her inner speed demon satisfied, even as she grew older. Twilight was more than happy to provide newer and faster vehicles for her, even though the speedster never managed to leave behind her impatience.

“Yeah, but you’re the one watching my back. There’s, like, no risk at all! I know you already triple checked everything.”

“Quadruple, actually… But still, I’d feel better if you ran them too. Could you do it, for me?”

“Alright egghead, fuel levels within mission parameters. Aileron response is nominal, brake-rudder response is nominal. Throttle check… good, differential systems responding."

“Who sounds like an egghead now?”

“Hey, you’re the one that snuck all that into my brain. Do you want me to finish the checks or not? Fire suppression system is…”

A quiet hiss filled the audio, and was followed by annoyed grumbling.

“Fire suppression system is very wet. Emergency ejection system is armed. Flight computer is good, sensor outputs are clean. All systems are go.”

“Copy that. Lieutenant Rainbow Dash, you are cleared for takeoff in 5… 4…”

“321letsgo!”

The roar of a jet engine running at full throttle drowned out any other noise. The bleak gray hangar that hung in the background immediately gave way to blue skies. As the plane reached cruising altitude, the sound of the engines retreated into a dull droning, and gave way to a stranger one.

It took Twilight a moment to identify it. It was the sound of Rainbow Dash whooping in excitement, along with her past self shouting in anger. Every time Twilight tried to get a word in edgewise, Dash would hit the throttle and cheer even louder.

“Get it out of your system yet, Twi?”

“Almost… that was reckless Rainbow Dash! You could have been—”

The sound of the engines picked up again.

“Woooo! Sorry, I can’t hear you over my awesomeness!”

“Alright… if you’re done taking my incredibly expensive, experimental prototype for a joy ride, there’s still a job for you to do.”

“Yeah I’ll get on it. Figure out the max speed and flight profile. Just one quick question first.”

“Yes?”

“How many records did I break just then?”

Twilight groaned, both in the recording and in the present.

“I think three…”

“Then let’s make it four!”

The jet engine rumbled to life once more, and the soothing white noise quickly faded into the background. Twilight cut the video and let the audio loop. She curled up, draping her tail across her muzzle, and closed her eyes.

“It seems some things would never change,” she mumbled, before drifting off peacefully.

Interlude 1: To Love, With Love

“I know it’s been far too long. I can’t possibly say enough to apologize for the silence, nor will I ever be able to. But still, I have to say it. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t apologize enough, either,” Cadence mumbled as she gave the windows below her a passing glance.

The San Palomino Spaceport slipped across the great panes of reinforced glass. Built in the middle of the eponymous desert, the enormous silvery facilities stood out from the golden sands around them. An enormous track jutted out of the hangars and ran thousands of kilometers west, across the oceans. A launch loop, Cadence had once heard Twilight call it such, built back during the infancy of Equestria’s space program. It was a relic, but still saw a great deal of use. Even now, Cadence could spot a glimmer of reflected sunlight as a shuttle departed.

She waved as the craft rocketed over the horizon; no one down below would ever see the gesture, but Cadence did it regardless. While it was probably a mere cargo shuttle, there was a small chance that it would be a private ship destined for the stars. And Cadence made a promise to never again miss the chance to bid someone farewell or wish them safe travels.

The shining spires of Canterlot drifted into view. Those towers seemed to reach into the black of space, having grown in height over the centuries. They almost rivalled the size of her own castle, which peeked over the horizon to the north. Maybe in a few more decades, they would eclipse it.

Cadence sighed at her memories of the ancient capital. She had not set hoof there in years. The last time was for some ceremonial duty, celebrating the incorporation of a new colony. While vast amounts of activity still took place down there, the real leadership had moved thousands of kilometers farther up. Sitting up in a stationary orbit, Caballus Station One was the de facto capitol of the entire Federation.

A hologram of Twilight shook Cadence from her reflections. It leapt and clung to her neck. The lack of any physical weight was disconcerting, but the hug was welcome nonetheless. Cadence continued down the hallway and the projection followed along. It made for an odd sight, a phantom alicorn sliding across the floor, but Cadence had to hurry to catch a flight. Besides, experience told her that the recording would stay that way for a while.

“I miss you. I really do. I can’t possibly express how much I do. But you know I have to keep going. You of all ponies know what it’s like.”

She nodded straight ahead, avoiding Twilight’s gaze, and picked up the pace. There was another two minutes for Cadence to make the next shuttle to Station One, and half of the orbital transfer terminal to trot across. While the shuttle would definitely wait for her, the launch window would not. Missing it would result in a four hour delay, and would mean missing out on an emergency meeting of the Senate.

“Thank you, for everything you've been doing. I won’t lie, though. I… don’t think we’ll ever see each other again. There’s nothing left for me back at home. Out here, there’s everything you can imagine, as long as you’re patient enough to look for it. But I promise to stay in contact. No more disappearing for decades at a time. Until next time, Cady.”

“I’ll hold you to it, Twily. Until next time.”

Cadence passed through the airlock and strapped herself down with mere seconds to spare. Immediately after settling in, she was sent hurtling through the void. With nothing but the stars to keep her company, Cadence mentally prepared herself for the battles to come. While her political feuds weren’t as glorious as Luna’s search across the stars, nor as great as Celestia’s black projects, they were her little way of making amends. History showed that she hadn’t been willing to do everything in her power for Twilight, but Cadence would be damned if she didn’t do everything she could now.

The Senate was vicious, more akin to sharks than the ponies, minotaurs, and zebras that most actually were. They even made the average griffin, dragon, or yak of the Federation seem gentle. But they had not seen fury like that of an alicorn’s. Even the fiercest of savages could be cowed by a true force of nature.

“While the cat’s away, the mice will play. But when she returns… oh, her prey will pay.”

4 - To The Core, Part 1

Transition to warp space. And then sleep.
Transition to normal space. Then sleep.

Repeat.

Warp space, sleep.
Normal space, sleep.

And repeat. And again. And again.

And again.

The thing with space was that there’s a lot of it. And most of that space was empty. The only thing to do when travelling between stars was to sleep. That, or watch centuries old video recordings. Twilight alternated between the two activities for the past year. There was one time when she had accidentally combined them, but she tried to avoid that as much as possible.

Currently, she was staring intently at her primary display.

She watched as sunlight washed across every surface of the Crystal Empire. A pair of royal guards flanked Princess Twilight as she trotted along the radiant streets. She was only about a head taller than everyone around her, but the poise and grace with which she carried herself made her seem larger than life. Approaching the central concourse of the Empire, she walked past the crystal stallions standing at attention. She took one more step, before doubling back and—

“WARNING: FUEL LEVELS CRITICAL, 4.999%”

“Silence alarms,” Twilight said in irritation, refusing to turn away from the video. She already knew that her energy situation was less than ideal, and didn’t need her recordings interrupted with reminders.
“Continue playback.”

“WARNING: FUEL LEVELS CRITICAL, 4.998%”

“Disable all fuel alarms for 30 minutes!”

Frustrated, Twilight stamped a hoof down. The ringing impact startled her, and she quickly brought the offending foreleg to her chest. Her ears wilted as she frowned at the floor of her cockpit.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you, Harmony. I’m hungry too, you know? A year on half-rations of magic hasn’t done me any favors either.”

Her stomach growled as it was reminded of its poverty. The mana conduit that ran under her seat glowed dimly as she pulled a tiny bit of magic from it, just enough to keep her alive and conscious. It was enough to awaken her appetite, but didn’t sate her in any way. She reluctantly diverted the smallest amount to scan herself.

“Lethargy, fatigue, irritability. Fortunately, no major atrophy. Initial symptoms of dehydration?”

Prodding at herself, Twilight tried to check if she was actually thirsty. It didn’t feel that way, but her magic never lied to her before. She shrugged and stood up grudgingly. The water recycling system was a short walk away from the cockpit, but every single step was grueling and long. When she finally made it there, she briefly considered getting rid of the artificial gravity plating that lined the floors, if only it wouldn’t take even more effort. Instead, she put that energy into the task of turning a space-rated handle using only her hooves.

With a look of confusion, she stared as water fell from the opened valve. Twilight had never needed to drink anything on her ship, and usually had magic to help her whenever she wanted to.

“After years of preparation, with unlimited access to the Federation’s full manufacturing capabilities, I still forgot to bring cups. Well, at least no one is watching. Who needed dignity anyway?”

Twilight stuck her head under the flowing water, and drank from the stream. It was cold and crisp, and one of the best things she had ever tasted. It soaked her mane and dribbled down her chin. A bit ran along her neck and into her flight suit, but she didn’t care. She pulled back for a mere moment, to catch her breath.

She stared at the reflective wall in front of her, and an utterly disheveled mare stared back. Her mane was a disaster, heavily matted with water that dripped down the tangled strands. She ran a hoof through it and straightened it out as best as she could. It had been a mess yesterday, and would probably be a mess tomorrow, but at least her mane could take on some of its original beauty for today. After examining her efforts in the makeshift mirror, she grinned and threw herself back under the stream.

Fluttering her wings, Twilight relished in the feeling of water running over her feathers. She spun around and left no part of herself dry. After another moment of indulgence, she stepped back to take another drink. She closed her eyes and drank deep.

“WARNING: FLOODING DETECTED IN COMPARTMENT B. VENTING PROCEDURE INITIATED.”

Twilight choked in surprise, and sputtered in an attempt to clear the water from her lungs. She panicked, the sensation of near-drowning foreign to her, and teleported as much water as she could into the void. Immediately, she felt the depletion of her magic and collapsed as the doors locked around her.

“No! Emergency override!” Twilight said, between coughs. “Do NOT vent compartment B! I said I was sorry, Harmony! If you’re still angry at me, just say so.”

She stood up, shakily, and drew in magic to replace everything she just wasted. She took one last, hesitant sip of water from the mere trickle that still fell from the valve, before shutting it off. The doors opened after a few more seconds, and she stumbled back toward the cockpit.

“Ugh, that’s more than enough water for a lifetime,” she said. “That was bad. That was really bad. I’ll have to burn hydrogen to replace at least some of the water. Compound that with all the wasted magic, and it looks like we’ll fall short of our destination by… 2.7 light days.”

A secondary display came to life, filled with dancing numbers and nearly indecipherable characters. Twilight stared at the power distribution screen for a moment, before fiddling with a few sliders.

“No choice but to make the best of what we have left. Thermal regulation off; it might get a little chilly in here, but we’ll survive. Probably. Water management… well, there’s not much water left to manage. Let’s give it 5%. Life support: 30% power? That sounds like it might work. All of this brings us down to… 2.4 light days. Roughly two months of subluminal travel.”

With a loud click, Twilight pried the cover off a breaker panel and began flipping switches haphazardly. After turning the cockpit lights off, she had to fumble around with little more than the scintillating colors of warpspace for illumination.

“Compartment C, all systems off. Compartments E and F powered down. Rerouting magic to auxiliary stabilizers… I think? We’ll know in a few seconds otherwise. Secondary displays now offline. Primary display… can I—just let me finish this video. Delayed disconnect: 5 minutes.”

Twilight looked back up to the screen and smiled.

“Continue playback.”

Princess Twilight turned to one of the crystal guards, and approached him with an unreadable grin. Releasing a small amount of magic, the alicorn gave off an unearthly glow as she spread her wings to their fullest extent. She bowed her neck just enough to stare directly into the guard’s eyes. He stared back, impassively, as if one of the world’s most powerful beings wasn’t bearing down on him.

The contest of wills carried on for a short while, and neither opponent could find an advantage over the other. Then Twilight crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

The guard’s stoic gaze cracked with the slightest bit of imperfection. Twilight cheered in victory, having provoked a grin.

“Hah! I win, BBBFF!”

“Aw, Twily, how did you know it was me?” Shining Armor removed his helmet and dispelled his disguise. “I was undercover, trying to determine the state of the Empire’s military—”

He gave a quick wink.

“Which appears to be PITIFUL! Privates, at attention! Chins up! Backs straight! Straighter!”

Passing his gaze over his guards, Shining Armor looked for any imperfection at all. Having found none, he decided to single out the one at the center of the group. He flashed an apologetic smile that faded instantly.

“You there! I see a spot on that armor! You are currently in the presence of Equestrian HIGH ROYALTY! Before you stands Princess Twilight Sparkle, savior of the ENTIRE WORLD!”

He teleported in front of the guard and towered over him. The armor was spotless, of course, and his guards had always exceeded his high expectations, but Shining could never say that out loud. Instead, he returned to his shouting.

“She personally liberated you from the darkness 16 years ago, and as thanks you present a DIRTY CHESTPLATE? She is capable of erasing every trace of your sorry existence with just a single thought, and you dare to show disrespect? Get it cleaned on the double, or I’ll court martial you myself!”

Twilight caught up with her brother and watched the poor guard run off.

“Don’t be too harsh on them, Shiny. At least try not to tell them I can erase their existence. They’re new and impressionable.”

“Well, is it a lie?” Shining Armor smiled at his sister, but she only stared at her hooves and scuffed them against the crystalline road. Immediately, he transitioned into a pout.
“Twily… I’m sorry. Come over here and give your big bro a hug. I promise I won’t tell them that again.”

Twilight fell into her brother’s embrace and relaxed. The sharpness of her eyes, the stiffness of her spine, the neatness of her wings, all the little things that made her truly seem like a princess faded for just a brief moment. She even seemed quite comfortable while craning her neck into the hug.

“Thanks, Shiny. It’s good to finally see you again.”

“Same to you. Geez, you’ve grown tall. It’s going to take some getting used to, being the shorter one now. I hope you don’t expect me to start calling you big sis any time soon.”

“Oh, I’d never do such a thing, little brother,” Twilight said. Shining Armor groaned in response.

“Come on, let’s go. Everypony will be so happy to see you again! Cadence has been talking about your visit non-stop for the past week. Little Flurry is excited too, even if she tries to hide it.”

The two continued down the road, followed by their motley mix of guards. The street continued to shine under the midday sun. Twilight could almost feel the pavement under her hooves, as the sound of cheerful conversation retreated into the distance. She leaned back into her seat, to reminisce, until the screen faded out.

Twilight closed her eyes for a moment, and opened them to the beautiful black of space. She tapped on her command console once, and settled into her seat as her ship gently shifted around. After a final glance at her status displays, she turned them off and gave her chest a quick tap.

“Journal #418. Hey girls, just checking in for another daily entry. Nothing to report… not like there’s an abundance of news out here. Though, I did just almost drown myself under a space faucet. Wasted a lot of magic too, so it looks like we’ll be taking the two month scenic route. There should be enough magic to make it to the next star, but that doesn’t leave much for me. I might be able to scrounge up enough for a hibernation spell though.”

She grabbed her pen and a dusty notepad, as old as the Harmony itself, and began to idly sketch the components of the spell. Satisfied with her work, Twilight spat the pen out and flipped to an earlier page. She frowned, briefly, before resetting her expression; this was all just an attempt to delay the more difficult conversation.

“I crunched all the numbers. It’s not like I had anything better to do out here. Early on in my explorations, I noticed a trend: the closer to the center of the galaxy I got, the more magic I could find. It’s remarkably consistent, even in the void of interstellar space. Well, I came up with a plan – but this is actually the first time I’m telling anyone about it, so the details aren’t really finalized. Though, the plan itself is still here.”

Twilight rested a hoof on her diagrams, reverently. She let out a sigh, and ran her other hoof through her mane. Realizing that it was already impeccably straight, she froze half-way through the motion. The awkward pause passed, as Twilight continued with excessive cheer.

“Anyway, back on topic! I wasn’t sure at first, but all my models seem to agree. Of course, mana tends to gather in any gravity well. But the maximum magical field density increases hyperbolically as you approach the center of the galaxy. My current theory is that there’s an unimaginably large reservoir of manic just waiting for us there.” She lifted up her forehooves and held them just a short distance apart.

“Out there, there’s more magic in this small volume than there is in the entire Federation. There’s enough to… well, I’ll have to figure that part out. I might use an enormous time-travel spell. Or maybe create an alternate universe. I wonder what it would take to make an entirely new one from scratch.”

Flipping to a new page, Twilight reached for her pen—

With an empty mouth, she glared at the console her pen had rolled under. She settled with drafting the patterns of magic using her imagination instead. With her memory, it was functionally the same as drawing them out on paper, but far less satisfying. The physical act of working through a problem gave a visceral sense of accomplishment, and skipping that part just made everything feel hollow. Twilight abandoned her half-hearted attempt after a few minutes.

“Well girls, that’s all for now. I’ll be skipping the next few entries. Have to take a two month nap to stave off insanity and starvation and whatnot. I’ll… see you again someday.”

With one final click, the last of her tiny lights faded out.

The fragrance of tea mingled with the smell of oak. Twilight and Celestia were gathered around a steaming kettle while enjoying the numerous books around them. Hours passed as if they were seconds, while the two read in comfortable silence.

Twilight turned to discuss her most recent passage with Celestia, only to catch Luna sneaking through the front door of the Golden Oaks Library. She stared, confusedly, and Luna returned the perplexed gaze. It was a few awkward moments until Celestia finally spoke up.

“Sister dearest! ‘Tis great that thou—you could join us!”

Luna winced and gave Twilight a sidelong glance, before responding.

“Ah, yes. I… was in the area and wished to catch up with you two.”

The entire exchange seemed wooden, poorly rehearsed or perhaps merely uncertain. Twilight shrugged it off as an artifact of her overly active imagination, and cheerfully invited Luna in for some tea. She watched her visibly relax as she sat down at the table.

“So, Luna, how’ve you been? It’s been months since we last talked,” Twilight said as she took a sip from her cup.

“Months? – Oh, everything has been good. Good, very good.” Without warning, Luna wrapped both hooves and wings around Twilight and pulled her close.
“It’s so good to see you again.”

“By the stars, you’re acting like we haven’t seen each other in years. Don’t worry, I’m not going… anywhere…”

Twilight pushed herself out of Luna’s embrace, and backed a few paces away for good measure.

“This is another dream,” she stated. She prodded Celestia with her hoof, who then disappeared into a cloud of stardust. “None of this is real. None of it. But…”

Twilight turned to Luna with a growing sense of dread. She pressed a hoof to the interloper’s chest, confirming her hypothesis. The instant it made contact with the cold metal of her regalia, she pulled it back and scrambled away. “But… you are. But that’s… how is… no, impossible!”

“Twilight, please just –”

“No, stay back!” She charged her horn and let a wave of light wash over her.

Twilight blinked repeatedly in an attempt to clear away the pure white that dominated her vision. She squinted and shaded her eyes with a hoof, and was finally able to see past the enormous spotlights shining upon her. They dimmed simultaneously, and gave way to a sea of flashing cameras. The next thing Twilight noticed was the endless waves of questions from the crowd. That must have been why her heart was racing – a news conference always put her on edge.

“Princess Twilight! Princess Twilight!” The shouting of a blue mare rang clear, audible from across the entire room. “What words of wisdom would you like to pass onto Equestria?”

“Well, if you read through my reports, you’ll notice a lot of worlds out there are utterly devoid of life in any way. It’s lonely out here, among the stars. Every bit of life is like a gem, shining in the darkness that is space. We must cherish and protect all life, both out there and within the Federation, for it is rare and delicate. Next question, from the stallion in blue.”

“Thank you very much. Chandra, from the Canterlot Times. Is there anything you wish to say, that you have left out of your reports?”

“As far as I can tell, we are alone in the galaxy. We, sentient creatures originating from the planet Caballus, are the only intelligent beings that I know of. However, I have a little pet theory. I have come across some pieces of technology, primitive compared to modern Equestrian science, but still quite advanced. Something must have created that technology. We are alone now, but there have been people travelling among the stars long before us. I have no reason to doubt that people will follow after us when we are gone.”

Twilight shifted uncomfortably. One day, other beings from a different planet will look to her stars for inspiration. They may even travel among them. But there is no reason for them to go into that darkness alone. She filed the thought away for the future, and called for another question from a mare with a blue mane. The entire crowd seemed to quiet down to listen to her.

“Now that you have once again revolutionized modern science, will you be coming back home?”

“No, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Then what are your plans now?”

Twilight pondered for a moment. The question was innocuous enough, but she never prepared an answer for it. She shrugged, and decided to ad lib it.

“Short term or long term? In the short term, I have an urgent need for fuel. I’m still some distance from a nearby star. It’s the last one before I’ll be able to jump to the Horseshoe Nebula. From there, I should finally be able to fill up and continue on at full speed. In the long term…”

“Go on,” the reporter gently prompted her.

“In the long term, once I reach the center of the galaxy–”

“Collision Course!” The reporter cut off Twilight. The two stared at each other, equally bewildered. The reporter opened her mouth, but lost control over the words that came out. “Warning: Collision Course! Warning: Collision Course!”

“WARNING: COLLISION COURSE.”

Twilight would have launched herself into the ceiling if it weren’t for the restraints holding her in her seat. With a few waves of her hoof, the ship came back to life. She still had a few minutes to perform the necessary correction maneuvers, but the sooner the better. She checked over her numbers and promptly slammed her head into the control console. Repeatedly.

“Not enough fuel for orbital insertion, not enough fuel to make the jump, not enough time to passively gather enough fuel. Well, Harmony, looks like we’re going star diving. Re-engage manual controls.”

She grabbed the deployed yoke and stared straight ahead, smiling. The memory of her mother lecturing her not to stare at the sun wormed its way through her mind. Her ascension rendered the lesson moot, but she dipped her head to offer a silent apology. After a few more moments, she bowed her head farther and lit her horn.

“Alright! Atmospheric entry in 10, manual controls responding, manual shield…”

Twilight stared into the magenta glow that stretched across the window. It flared as roiling plasma washed over it, but that only reinforced the colors that flooded her cockpit.

“Manual shield is holding! Fuel scoop running, 32% and rising. Reactor running at full efficiency!”

Beads of sweat rolled down Twilight’s forehead. She slammed the throttle forward with a manic grin. Her entire body was flung against her seat, but she barely even blinked.

“And engines running at maximum power!” She wiped at her brow, and was launched to the left as her ship hit the edge of a convection cell. Her shield flickered for a moment and some solar flames licked at the window. “Whoop! Guess it’s time for us to leave now.”

Twilight let out a cheer as she trailed plasma out of the star. She released her death grip on the control column and struggled to bring her breathing under control. She unbuckled her restraints and stood up on shaky legs. Turning around, she looked at the edge of the star she just passed through

“Well… hah… tit for tat, I guess. You gave me a full tank of fuel, it’s only fair I give you something back in return.”

The cockpit filled with the glow of magic, as Twilight charged a few teleportation spells on a truly enormous level. She flung her head forward and let out a roar. The star behind her ship pulsed a bit, as if it were satisfied. Twilight happily collapsed to the floor after seeing the success of her spell.

“There, brought extra fuel into your core, and got some of that degenerate matter out. That should last you an extra million years. It might mess up stellar evolution sequences around here, but services rendered to the crown are always compensated fairly.”

Twilight climbed back into her seat and sat as straight as the adrenaline still coursing through her veins would allow. After another moment to catch her breath, she shouted.

“Set course, full speed to the Horseshoe Nebula!”