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Guardian Solar Wind of the H.R.S Veritas reclined in her chair. Her pink legs reclined gently atop the console, hooves crossed. Her arms crossed behind her head, she closed her eyes as she listened to the melody of the Sixth Muse, one of her favorites from back when she was a filly. Cream white hair fell around her shoulders and over the headrest of the captain’s chair. She forwent all manner of personal grooming, seeming pointless considering that her only company was the ship’s onboard A.I.
“Guardian Wind,” the suave male voice broke the tranquil setting.
Lime green eyes opened wide. Solar Wind looked up, her gaze taking in the scene before her. The bridge was a semi-circular compartment with a single chair and console. Before them, the viewport offered a vivid holographic projection of the vortex known as warp space. Shades of purple, blue, and red mixed together in a mosaic of colors that were as chaotic as they were beautiful.
“Report,” Guardian Wind commanded.
“I’ve received an S.O.S from an unknown source.” The voice spoke over the music, the Muse’s song drifting just low enough to be heard. “It’s coming from a nearby system.”
“One of ours?” Solar asked, genuinely interested.
“Unknown. The signal is distorted.”
“Cease playback,” Solar ordered. The Muse’s song came to an end. “Bring it up on screen.” The multi-colored vortex vanished, replaced by a projection of local space. On it, Solar Wind could see the glowing green dot with the solid yellow line trailing behind it, indicating the ship’s passage when it had left the homeworld. The Veritas was a seed ship, one of only a hoof-ful sent across the cosmos to find a new home for her people. Each ship had a captain, a guardian, whose sole purpose was to see the ship safely to its destination.
Each seed ship carried a series of embryos, fertilized eggs that would grow into ponies once the guardian and ship found a new world. Limited resources prevented the seed ships from carrying full-grown ponies across space, leaving a single guardian to watch over them during the journey. The embryos were carefully secured inside the ship’s “womb”, a vault-like compartment that would remain sealed until given a special code known only to the guardian. At that time, a maturation process would see the embryos grow at an accelerated rate until they reached adolescence, at which point, under the supervision of the guardian and the ship’s extensive educational programs, they would be prepared to venture out and repopulate.
When Solar had left the homeworld, it was under extensive bombardment by their enemies. Of course her people returned the favor, but their enemies had been thorough in their genocidal campaign. The homeworld was lost, her people doomed to extinction. Solar Wind was chosen among the finest stock the military had to offer. She and the other guardians were to guide the seed ships on an exodus across the stars to plant the seeds of a new home in a distant solar system, one where her kind could live and grow in harmony.
“What’s the deviation from our current course?” Solar asked the ship.
“Roughly 4.1 light years.”
“ETA?”
“At current velocity, two hours.”
Two hours. Two hours that could be spent finding a new home. “Ship,” she began, scratching her chin with her hoof, “Is it possible that the signal is coming from another seed ship?”
“It is impossible to tell. There is too much interference to accurately gauge the identity of the distressed vessel.”
“Source?”
“The system in question is a binary star.” There was a slight pause. “Guardian, there is also the probability that it is a trap.”
Solar Wind had considered that. It was part of her job. Should she risk it? Could she put the future of her species on the line on the off-chance that it might be a fellow Hyrac Republic ship in danger? The exact number of seed ships sent into space was classified just in case their enemies managed to capture one, torturing the guardian for information. That had always been a fear for Central Command, which is why she was given strict orders never to deviate from her designated course, to ignore all messages, even if they were Republic.
Very few escaped the destruction of the homeworld, so brutal and sudden had the enemy’s attack been that Solar Wind, who had been aboard the Veritas doing maintenance, was the only one to have been able to launch from her port in time. If she ignored the call and it was a seed ship, she’d be dooming not only the guardian to a slow, cold death in space, the but the frozen embryos as well. An entire generation of ponies wiped out, never to see the sun rise over their new world. The Vertias had only light armaments. It was built for speed and long-range travel, not combat.
Still, if it were Solar Wind’s that ship was disabled, or she herself killed, she’d want some other pony to pick up her mantle.
“Guardian?” The ship’s voice began. “We will be beyond range of the system in twenty-six seconds. Your orders?”
Solar Wind shut her eyes. Two voices vied for her attention.
It’s a trap.
It might be one of ours.
And if it’s not?
What if it is?
We have our orders.
The ones who gave those orders are long dead.
We have a duty!
But what if…?
Stay the course!
For the Republic.
For the species.
For us…
“Change course,” Solar breathed out.
“I should warn you that this is a breech of our orders…”
“I know our orders!” Solar snapped, her hooves digging into the armrests of her chair. “I know the risks,” she said more calmly. “We’ll take every precaution. Have engines on standby in case we need to bug out of there fast.” The Veritas had heavy shielding for when traveling through nebulae and other spacial hazards. What it lacked for in firepower it more than made up for in defense. An enemy ship would have to be bigger than a frigate class to cause any real damage and even then she was confident that they could outrun it. Republic ships were the best in space.
“Changing course,” the ship said. On the screen, Solar watched as the solid green line of her ship’s trail turn a bright red, a beeping sound accompanying the deviation from the planned route.
Solar Wind took a deep breath. She was gambling with the fate of her species. May the gods forgive her if she was wrong.
It wasn’t a binary system. There were three suns orbiting a series of asteroid belts, worlds that had been pulled apart between the powerful gravitational pulls of the competing stars. Two of them were yellow stars, but the third, a massive red giant, was gradually pulling at the other two from the center of the system. The ship’s computers had picked up traces of hollowed-out structures on the surface of the asteroids, indicating that the world was once inhabited. The system’s primary star must have gone nova, taking the adjacent worlds along with it in the blast. The presence of three suns created havoc with the ship’s sensors. To a pony, it would be like trying to look through a window during a blinding snow storm while wearing a pair of broken spectacles. In essence, they were going in blind.
Solar Wind had correctly surmised that the captain of the vessel would be taking shelter from the intense solar rays by hiding in one of the asteroid belts. Furthermore, the captain would most likely pick the belt that was farthest from each of the competing stars, namely the one in the middle, as that’s where the gravitational pull would be least likely to tear his ship apart. Of course, this was still like looking for a needle in a haystack, a haystack extending more than three-hundred million miles around the system.
Luckily, Solar Wind had one hell of a magnet. Taking into account the structures in the floating belt, which suggested that the civilization had never progressed beyond the stone age, she had the ship sent out acoustics in every direction. Eventually, one of the sound waves pinged off a large, metal object floating in the debris, an object whose size, and metallic composition, once the Veritas flew close enough to scan, were unlike anything native to this system. She almost jumped out of her chair when the ship confirmed that the vessel was indeed a fellow seed ship.
“Gods be praised!” She exclaimed. Watching their progress through the viewport, Solar Wind felt her heart skip a beat as they closed in on the vessel. “Ship, prepare to open a channel. Make sure they know we are friendlies and to open their access,” she stopped. The distressed ship came into view. Her eyes widening at the realization, Solar felt her blood run cold. “That’s not Republic.”
Indeed, the design of the vessel, the elongated curves and sharp edges, were a far cry from the ships Solar had piloted her whole life. She recognized the design anywhere. “That’s an Imperial vessel.”
“Agreed,” Ship added. “It’s received extensive damage to its port and aft sides. Engine output is nonexistent. There are no life signs.”
She inhaled sharply. “Then the distress signal?”
“Automated. Whoever piloted that ship died long ago.”
“But,” she began, her head shaking even as she spoke, “I thought you said this was a seed ship? How…?”
“My sensors picked up what appeared to be a collection of degraded biological material deep within the interior. There are remains of what appears to be an enemy ‘womb’. Bimolecular analysis indicates that the organic seedlings are…”
“Stop!” She said, dreading the rest of the report. “How can that be?” Her voice raised. “The seed ships were part of the Republic’s Exodus Plan. It was top secret until a few months ago. Hell, most of Central Command didn’t know about it.”
“Indeed, guardian. The plan was created as a doomsday scenario, in which the homeworld faced the possibility of annihilation and there was no time to evacuate.”
Solar Wind knew it all. She was there during the final briefing. Central Command had stated that despite their best efforts, the homeworld was doomed to fall to the enemy advance. She and a select few of the Republic’s best and bravest were chosen to lead the exodus into space should their defenses at last fall to overwhelming forces. From that moment on, Solar Wind ate and slept at her post in the port above the capital city, ready to leave at a moment’s notice.
“Then how the hell did the Imperials build a seed ship of their own? Did they steal one of our own so they could reverse engineer a similar vessel?”
“Unlikely,” the ship answered her. “According to chronological readings, the Imperial vessel was constructed over a stellar year ago, long before the attack on the homeworld took place.”
The guardian’s mind raced with possibilities. “A spy?”
“Also improbable given the length of security measures Central Command had taken.”
“But then,” Solar paused, a darkness overcoming her bright features. “Could it be possible that they were preparing for the same doomsday scenario we were?” She thought back to the day the missiles struck the homeworld, turning the surface into glass. Her people struck back, firing their own tools of annihilation at where their enemies lived, destroying them utterly. It was mutual annihilation, a collapse of civilization as logic and reason gave way to paranoia and xenophobia. Perhaps, their enemies feared that the Republic would destroy them and had concocted a plan similar to the Republic’s.
She took a moment to gather herself before speaking again. “What could have done this?” She looked up at the destroyed vessel. “Who attacked them?”
“Weapon signatures on the hull are indicative of particles cannons used by the Republic Navy.”
Now her heart sank, dragging what was left of her will with it. “You’re saying we destroyed that ship?”
“It is not improbable. Direct hits on the engine and bridge are standard attack procedures for Republic vessels during combat. It insures that the enemy vessel is disabled and unable to call for reinforcements.”
Solar had seen enough vids of the Republic military in action, watching them attack enemy ships, focusing their barrages on the engines so that the ships could not escape. The Republic always had greater numbers, and despite their less advanced technology they were able to use that advantage to overwhelm and destroy more powerful combatants. If the weapon signatures were correct, that would mean that her people had attacked a civilian vessel, one that was carrying fertilized embryos to a new home, just like hers was. The callousness used to do such a thing…Solar Wind couldn’t even imagine. “Defending yourself is one thing. This was cold-blooded murder.”
“Guardian,” the ship announced, “I’m picking up increasing activity in the system’s secondary star. It will make leaving the system increasingly difficult if we don’t return to our predetermined route as soon as possible.”
Looking at the carnage one last time, Solar Wind said a prayer to the spirits of the dead. She was raised to hate the enemies of her people, to fear them, but knowing that her own were willing to stoop so low as to kill defenseless beings, it shook her faith in everything she believed in.
“Take us out,” she muttered. “Take us out of here.”
The Veritas had put the derelict starship behind them, putting as much distance between it and the system as possible before returning to their assigned route. While she was greatly disturbed by the brutality of her people, the notion that other Republic ships aside from seed ships had escaped the destruction of their homeworld filled her heart with some hope. The Republic had suffered tremendous losses during the initial attacks by the enemy fleets. They slaughtered the outer colonies first before attacking the core systems, killing billions more. Her people fought valiantly but were outclassed by superior technology and weaponry. They threw everything they had at them, ships, ponies, and still it wasn’t enough.
After they returned to warp space, Solar Wind had asked the ship to scan for signs of other Republic ships. She wondered if they would run into that ship that destroyed the Imperial seed ship. If so, she’d be sure to give the commander a piece of her mind. She had not love for their enemies, but to wantonly slaughter innocents made them no better than those they claimed to be savage. Her people were noble. They were better than that. Perhaps the Imperial had provoked them. Perhaps the Republic ship had thought the seed ship to be a new war machine. They couldn’t possibly have known about the womb inside, carrying unborn fetuses. They were doing their duty, believing themselves to be protecting the Republic. They were soldiers just like her. Each of those embryos would have grown up to become a full-grown enemy. It was fortunate that they stopped them before…
Solar Wind shook violently. Listen to me, she thought, I’ve been taught to hate them so much that I’m beginning to think like them. I am a guardian of the Hyrac Republic. I fight to protect my people. I don’t kill unless I have to. There are rules to war, no matter who the enemy is. We are not like them. I am not like them. I’m better than that. I have to be.
“I have to be,” she whispered.
“Guardian,” the ship began, “did you say something?”
“Nothing. I was just…thinking aloud.” She leaned back in her chair. “Have you picked up any more signals?”
“Negative. We have left the borders of known space. It is unlikely any civilized species exist this far into the void.”
“What about seed ships?” She asked hopefully.
“Ours or theirs?”
“Both.”
“Negative.”
She sighed. “Keep scanning.”
They traveled for many days, through systems unexplored by ponies. Each system was bland, devoid of life-bearing worlds. Some were too close to their sun, their surfaces a broiling mass of skin-searing heat. Any liquid water had long been evaporated and the air a sulfuric mix of death and anguish. Some planets were too far away from the warmth of their stars. Their surfaces were frozen wastelands of ice. Any ship attempting to land would freeze up in the atmosphere. Some worlds were so cold that the air itself had frozen over, enveloping the planet like some icy tomb.
They passed systems with planets a hundred times the size of the homeworld, gas giants who mere gravitational pull could crush anything made by pony hooves. The storms on those worlds would render the Veritas to pieces, their clouds lancing upward like hungry leviathans attempting to pluck a bird out of the sky.
One planet was one massive bog, not a speck of dry or flat land anywhere on its surface. The air was poisonous and the land slithered with carnivorous plant life. Another world had been split in two by a terrible cataclysm. The planet’s core was completely exposed, discharging electric currents the size of continents between its two halves. The next system was young, filled with debris as planets gradually began to form. One of the worlds was located in what would become the system’s Goldilocks Zone, an area just far enough for the sun—but still close enough to receive warmth—in which liquid water would eventually form on the surface. This planet had the potential to produce life, but it would take billions of years for the planet’s magma-covered surface to cool, to create an atmosphere capable of blocking out solar radiation, and water in which tiny micro organisms would evolve to the point where they would begin to colonize the landmasses.
Each and every world they found, each and every system, was but another dead end. The Veritas continued its seemingly pointless quest to find a new world, traveling well beyond the rim of explored space. The homeworld was probably a cooling wasteland by now, its once magnificent cities reduced to smoldering pools of steel, iron, and glass. The oceans evaporated, the atmosphere stripped away. There was nothing but death back there. But at least there had been life. Out here, there was nothing at all. Nothing.
Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months. On the first anniversary of the day she left the homeworld, Solar Wind was beginning to lose hope. She knew what she signed up for when she agreed to become a guardian. She had left everything behind, her home and family, her future, the possibility of becoming a mother…all for the sake of duty. Now here she was, the only surviving member of her species searching for a world that didn’t exist. Her sole companion was an A.I, a ship who would never understand her loneliness, her sadness. A small part of her had envied the pilot of that destroyed Imperial seed ship. At least he and the eggs he was guarding could now join their people in the great beyond. Solar Wind still had a job to do and it would consume her for the rest of her days.
The days and months passed. One after another, the Veritas passed through system after system. She tried to keep her hopes up. She read what books she took with her before the exodus. She watched vids from home, listened to the Muses, verses 6 through 29; she exercised everyday. She played electronic games with the ship’s A.I. Sometimes she would go down to the chamber containing the womb and speak to the unborn children she would one day protect. She did anything and everything she could to stem the darkness from taking her.
She was losing.
One year became two.
The systems were getting farther and farther apart. Their route was taking them away from the galactic core, where stars were more densely packed. It was for this very reason that her people had fought so much with their enemies. Life-bearing worlds were scarce near the core, and with little breathing room it was obvious that civilizations would clash for what few there were. Out in the rim, however, the further away from the core one went, the distance between stars was growing. Had her people developed their society out here, it was unlikely that they’d run into another space-faring culture for centuries. More room to spread out and develop, to colonize and explore in peace. With so much breathing room it was less likely that they would have warred with their neighbors, the Imperials, the Militants, the Order, the Gorgons, and the myriad of others who competed with the Republic for worlds, at least to the level that would have seen their home planets reduced to cinders.
Many of these stars, she realized, were young, still in the early ages of development. It would be a long time before any of them would harbor planets of any size, never mind “garden” worlds.
Two years became three.
Solar Wind was losing her mind. She’d read every book on this ship, every one, more times than she could count. Her favorite Muses sounded like garbled trash to her now. No manner of leisurely activity, be it exercising or playing computer games, or hell, even charting new systems, could alleviate the growing anxiety that threatened to explode like a ruptured hull. She was a pony. She needed to feel the earth beneath her hooves, the wind in her hair, the smell of flowers in her nose, eat the grass, taste the water, feel the sun on her face. This ship, her home for the past three years, was beginning to feel more and more like a coffin.
The walls were closing in on her. It was as if the ship were becoming smaller. One day it could crush her, like it was consuming her, eating her, finishing off what her enemies had started. In doing so her people’s extinction would be complete, the last of them devoured by the very ship that should have been their protector, their ark. Solar Wind knew it was all in her head. The rational side of her brain, what little of it remained, knew that the ship could no more eat her than she could walk in free space without a suit. It was all she had left…and that thought terrified her.
Three years became four. She almost never left the womb chamber now. It was the most secure part of the ship, a great circular room encasing the dome that house the frozen eggs. Solar Wind huddled beside it. She could feel the warmth of the dome as it incubated the embryos, keeping them safe as if inside an actual womb. It was the only place she felt safe anymore. Inside was her only reason for living now, the last of her kind. Solar Wind felt like a pony when she was with them. She felt…she felt good.
“Guardian,” the ship’s voice, once male and handsome, sounded hoarse and metallic. It hurt her ears just to hear it.
“Go…away…” her voice was a whisper. Her once illustrious cream-white hair was long and unkempt, as she’d cased all manner of proper grooming. Her pink coat was scraggly, like hard talons had been scrapped across its surface. She had dark circles under hear eyes and her head lolled to the side as if the weight had grown too much for the neck to hold. Solar Wind pulled her legs to her chest, gently rocking back and forth next to the womb. She had been humming to herself, a lovely tune, one her own mother used to sing to her when she was a filly. Funny, she couldn’t remember what her mother looked like. Was she brown or was she green? Did she have blue eyes or hazel? The only thing she could recall with absolute clarity was that song. She would teach it to the children. A child could hear its mother’s voice in the womb. She would sing to song so that they would know her as their protector, their guardian…their mother.
“Guardian.”
“I said GO AWAY!” Solar Wind snapped, spittle flying from her mouth.
The ship persisted. “You have not left this chamber for six weeks, save to eat or to relieve yourself. Your health is of great concern to me.”
She scoffed. “You are a machine. You know nothing of emotions.”
“You’ve lost five kilograms since your last weigh-in. You’re losing muscle mass, a dangerous development considering that the eggs will require your protection once we’ve reached a new world.”
“There is no new world,” Solar muttered bitterly. “It was all a lie.”
“Guardian,”
“SHUT UP!” Solar Wind flung her hoof out as if throwing something into the air. “Just leave us alone.”
“Guardian,”
“Please…” Solar Wind collapsed against the womb. “Please just…just stop…I don’t…”
“Scans have picked up a planet in a nearby star system…” there was a long pause as if the ship was waiting for her to respond. Solar Wind said nothing. She seen enough planets in enough systems to last a hundred lifetimes.
“So?”
“You should report to the bridge.”
“My place is here,” she staid stubbornly. “I’d rather die here than on that bridge.”
“The planet is habitable.”
Like flowers rising up in the spring, Solar’s ears perked up. She misheard it. She had to. There is no way. “S-Say that again,” she spoke hesitantly. “Repeat.”
“Surface temperature is comfortable. Oxygen-rich atmosphere. Seventy percent of the surface is covered in liquid water. It has one satellite and orbits a single yellow star. Animal and plant life are abundant and it doesn’t seem like there are any native life forms that can pose a threat to ponies.”
Shakily, Solar pushed herself to her hooves. “Are you sure?”
“Indeed. I am bringing the image up on the bridge.”
For the first time in weeks, Solar Wind found herself on the bridge of the Veritas. She paused briefly as if stepping into a strange room, one she hadn’t visited in ages, before resting her eyes on the large display above the console. It showed a full 3-D rendering of the system the ship had mentioned. “The planet?” She said.
“Enlarging.”
One planet blew up until it took up the whole image. One look at its blue oceans, its green continents and rolling white clouds and Solar was immediately reminded of home. It was like it had all been a nightmare and her people had survived the holocaust. It was so beautiful that her eyes teared up right then and there. “E…ETA?” She asked, her voice cracking.
“Four days,” it announced.
Four days. Four more days until this horrible journey would be finally over. She’d done it! She’d seen her children to a new home. Now she had to look the part. “Ship, activate the sonic shower. I need to look presentable for when I introduce the little ones to their new home.”
Less than an hour to their destination, Solar Wind looked at herself in the mirror. She had spent her time recuperating from her long depressive state, regaining her strength, and cleaning herself up. She had groomed herself again. She cut her white locks and tied it back into a bun so as to not obstruct her face. Her green eyes had regained some of their luster, looking bright again, hopeful. She’d started eating more, regaining some of that muscle mass the ship had told her about and returned to a dutiful exercise schedule. Though this ship had artificial gravity, it wasn’t the same as being in actual gravity. Solar would have to re-acclimate herself to living in a real atmosphere, her lungs accustomed to breathing recycled air, which would only put further pressure on her body.
On the day that they were to arrive over the planet, she made sure to don her cleanest, finest uniform, a yellow space suit with retractable visor over the helmet. It fit snug over her body, though a bit looser given how many pounds she’d lost during her hunger strike. It didn’t matter. There would come a day when she would be too fat to ever put it on again, hanging it in a closet somewhere, hopefully in a house with her many, many surrogate grandchildren. That day could not come soon enough.
Before she went to the bridge, she had to stop by the womb chamber one last time. They had been through so much together, she and them. “We’ve traveled a long way, little ones.” She placed a hoof on the womb’s warm outer shell. “You’ll be a whole new generation, the first to grow up in a world without war, without pain.” Gently, she placed her head beside the womb, as if hearing for sounds of life. Only the gentle hum of the womb came back to her, tickling her earlobes.
Solar smiled.
“Guardian,” the ship’s voice called out to her. “We are approaching the designated planet.”
Solar stepped back. “On my way.” With a warm smile, she trotted her way out of the chamber and to the bridge, a skip to her step. It felt wonderful, this feeling. After years in space, Solar felt like she would soon be reborn. And just think, not long from now she wouldn’t be alone anymore. Soon she would have an entire species to keep her company. “Ship, have you located possible landing zones?”
“Indeed. There are several viable regions all corresponding to your desired criteria. Arable land, temperate climate, an abundance of fresh water and easily defensible topography.”
“Show me,” she said, looking intently at the holographic display in front of her. As the image came into focus, Solar felt her eyes tearing up again. That was where she would raise the future of her race. How she craved to feel that virgin world’s grass beneath her hooves. She wanted to taste fresh air so much that her chest pounded with anticipation. “Ship, take us in.”
“Preparing too…” A warning klaxon sounded off. “Guardian, enemy ship off the port bow!”
“What?” Slamming into her chair, Solar Wind searched the console before her. “Where? How?”
“It was hiding behind the shadow of the planet’s moon. My sensors were unable to pick it up until it activated its thrusters.”
“Whose is it? What class?” She asked desperation in her voice. Not now. Not when they were so close.
“Militant,” the ship responded. “Configuration matches that of a frigate-class.”
“Damn those featherheads!” Solar cursed. “They would be waiting for us in ambush. Probably want to finish what they started back on the homeworld.” The holographic display panned out, away from the planet, to show a red triangle making its way out of the moon, heading right for the Veritas.
“Their gunports are open. Firing.”
“Defensive maneuvers, now!” The Veritas roared to life as the seed ship tried to avoid the incoming torpedoes. Militant vessels were known for their speed and maneuverability. Even the best Republic ships had difficulty keeping up with them.
“Release countermeasures!” Solar Wind held on as the ship lurched. Frigates were small vessels with a crew contingent of roughly forty. Their main function was to screen enemy fleet movements and report back to their command, rarely taking part in actual combat. When they did, it was usually in the form of blockade runners or to serve as escorts. Their limited shielding and firepower meant they were of little use against capital ships, which is why they would rarely, if ever, reveal their position to an enemy unless certain they could win and even then only against things that couldn’t fight back very well such as transports and communication drones.
If the Militants decided to show itself, it probably realized that the Veritas had limited defensive capability, thinking it easy prey. In truth, it was correct, but Solar had come too far, had risked too much to give up now. She remembered the wreckage of the Imperial seed ship in the asteroid belt. She refused to end up that way.
The ship trembled as the countermeasures intercepted the incoming projectiles. “They are firing again,” the A.I. reported. “Three incoming torpedoes.”
“Release countermeasures,” Solar desperately struggled to come up with a plan. She couldn’t risk landing, not with that frigate hanging over them. It would just blow them out of the atmosphere, scattering them across miles of surface. She also knew that they couldn’t keep dodging it forever. She didn’t know the exact compliment of a Militant frigate’s payload but she was sure that torpedoes weren’t the only thing in their arsenal. So to break it down, the enemy had superior firepower and armor. About the only thing it didn’t have was one determined guardian…and the eggs she was protecting!
“Ship, bring that frigate on screen now!” The ship lurched as one of the torpedoes exploded in close proximity, causing the bridge lighting to flicker. “Magnify.” Once the enemy frigate came into view, Solar gave it a thorough look. “Is that…battle damage?”
“Confirmed. A direct hit to their starboard side.” Part of the ship’s wing was seared off as well. It’s no wonder they were striking the Veritas from a distance. They couldn’t close the distance fast enough with that kind of damage, which meant that the seed ship could probably outrun it if it had to. But that wouldn’t stop the Militants from following them. If she landed anywhere on the planet they would just blast them from orbit. She was sure she’d run out of defensive measures long before they ran out of offensive ones. She had no choice, she had to take it out, now.
“Turn us around!” She barked, slamming a hoof onto the armrest.
“Pardon?” If she didn’t know better, the ship’s voice sounded flabbergasted.
“Their ship has taken heavy damage. A direct hit by our torpedoes should be enough to rupture their hull.”
“Begging your pardon, guardian, but their countermeasures can easily intercept our torpedoes.”
“Not if we fire at point blank range.”
There was a loud tremor as the ship shook from another nearby explosion. Their gunners had the range. It won’t be long before the Veritas was obliterated. “Just get us in close. The bastards will think we’re trying to ram them.” She smiled. “And then I’ll shove a torpedo right down their throats.
“This is a seed ship, guardian, not a war vessel.”
“It’s whatever it has to be to save my people. Now carry out my orders!”
The Veritas turned around, or in space terms, in the direction that the enemy fire was coming from. At full speed, the seed ship lurched like some massive missile. It closed the distance very fast, firing off one countermeasure after another. Trying to avoid each and every missile would have taken precious time, time the Veritas did not have if it wanted to close the distance fast enough.
“Divert as much power as you can to the forward shields,” Solar said. “The rest into the engine. I need one clear shot.”
“Guardian, my targeting systems are accurate enough…”
“If we take a hit during the run, there the chance your core controls can take some serious damage. I can’t risk that. Besides,” She leaned in close. “He’s mine.” Her eyes focused solely on the enemy ship. Silhouetted before the planet’s lone satellite—a brilliant ball of radiant silver—the ship seemed like nothing more than a speck. Every now and then, a flash, a streak of light, indicating a torpedo being fired, all aiming for the Veritas. Solar Wind mentally steeled herself for what she was about to do. To think that her people’s enemies had chased her out this far, to the ends of the universe.
This will be your grave!
The Veritas shook violently as a torpedo gimpacted. “Damage report!”
“Direct hit to our port side. Venting oxygen. I am attempting automatic repairs,”
“Not yet. I need all your energy focused on the run. Do not divert resources!”
“But the Veritas,”
“Will hold together. She’s a Republic ship. She won’t fail.” The ship tremored again.
“Pressurization is compromised,” the ship told her. Solar was blinded by the flashing lights, the ship’s warning klaxon blaring all around her. She heard the ship groaning as if in pain. Tremors rippled through the hull until she could have sworn that the chair bucked beneath her. “Just a little more.” She glanced around. “Please…just a little more.” Before her, the display flickered briefly and went off for one terrifying second. When it came up again, the enemy ship took up the entire screen, like it had somehow snuck up on her.
“Ready!” A targeting display appeared over the ship, crosshairs narrowing as they centered in on the vessel before her. The controls at her armrests, Solar Wind prepared herself.
“They are tacking evasive maneuvers,” the ship reported.
It needn’t have bothered. Solar imagined the panicked faces of the enemy as her ship bore down on them. They probably thought she’d meant to take them down in a suicide run. She bared her teeth. I am the last thing you will ever see!
Another tremor shook the ship. That was no direct hit, Solar knew. Something inside had ruptured…an internal explosion. On her screen, the enemy ship began to list to the side to avoid the incoming vessel, a torpedo almost as big as it was.
The target HUD beeped, holding the tone until finally it stopped, crosshairs focused squarely on the enemy’s ruptured starboard side. “Eat it!” Firing, at near point-blank range, she felt the Veritas tremble as she unleashed the torpedoes. Two ivory projectiles streaked towards the wounded enemy vessel, striking it directly where the battle damage had taken its toll. Each missile scored a direct hit, sending secondary explosions throughout the Militant ship. The explosion eventually consumed the enemy and Solar let out a victory cry as she watched it ignite before her.
“We did it!” Her elation was short lived. The Veritas buckled violently. Internal explosions shook the bridge. “Report!”
“Ruptures along the hull. Losing integrity.” If she didn’t know any better, it sounded like the ship’s A.I. was in terrible pain. “Unable to maintain control. We are caught in the planet’s gravitational pull.”
Smoke filled the bridge. A cable came bursting out of the ceiling, narrowly missing Solar’s arm. “Attempt to stabilize,” she pleaded. “Please. We are so close.”
“I will…try.” She felt the ship activate the stabilizers, struggling to get them under control. The screen before her shifted from black to blue and black again, constantly whirring between open space and the planet below. Solar caught a brief glimpse of the enemy vessel still exploding beside the moon. It was a beautiful sight, though not nearly as beautiful as the sight of the world she beneath her. Then she realized that beauty might be the last thing she ever saw.
“Ship?” She asked as she strapped herself in. “The womb? Status report?”
“Womb is secure,” the ship’s voice drifted a bit, like a voice that was gradually descending down someplace dark and perpetual, gradually sinking beyond reach. “Attempting to correct course.” The stabilizers fought for control of the ship against the planet’s gravity. Little by little, the Veritas’ orbit began to straighten up. Solar Wind counted their blessings.
“You did it.” But then the ship shook again. Heat began to penetrate the bridge.
“Outer hull is compromised.”
“Can you make it?” She asked. “Can you land us in one piece?”
“Trying. Attempting to…” the voice whirred as if it had been cut off. Then there was silence.
“Ship? Ship?!1”
But Solar’s words went unanswered. The Veritas continued its plummet, its guardian shutting her eyes as they breeched the atmosphere.
The sky. She couldn’t remember when last she witnessed such a beautiful sight. The stars, her home many a year, look different when viewed from the surface of a planet. They twinkled. She’d spent so much time traveling about between one star system to the next that she forgot how beautiful they could be. Back home, the one that was no longer there, she would walk alongside her mother along the coast, listening to the waves while watching the stars in the sky.
Now at least she would make new memories with her new family. Even now, the seed ship was preparing to awake the offspring of her race, the frozen embryos that would one day grow up to populate this planet. She could hardly wait.
The sun was beginning to rise. She paused to take in the magnificent sight. The horizon turned orange-red as the first flicker of sunlight began to pierce the night. Soon it would envelop the sky. But something else was in the heavens, something, while not as awe-inspiring as the rising sun, drew her attention to a distant point in the horizon. Something new was coming. Something that had her trotting across the open field. Her trot soon turned into a gallop as she recognized the object for what it was.
Her heart sank.
The crash site had carved a path along the forest. Debris had littered the area for miles, but the brunt of the ship, and its cargo, was lodged at the border between field and wood, marking the edge of the unknown. Slowly, carefully, she worked her way towards the site. After making sure that there was no ambush in wait, the guardian risked everything to make sure that the seed ship and the children she’d left behind would be safe. This was a potential threat and it was her job to ensure that nothing, but nothing, threatened the future of her people.
After peering through a hole at what she thought was the bridge, she climbed inside. Smoke and fire greeted her, and the damage was substantial. It’s a wonder that any part of the ship had survived entry. She’d seen signs of battle damage across the hull, wondering just what kind of vessel this was. It didn’t look to have been built for battle, though she was by no means an expert on alien aesthetics. Its cargo could have been any number of things, which left her to wonder if perhaps she should have taken more precautions. There was no telling what she would find, weapons, traps…or maybe…
Something moved in the dark. She quickly scampered back and aimed her light towards the shadow. She found a pony strapped to her chair, a long shaft of metal protruding through her chest cavity. The pony was gasping for breath, struggling to breath. Carefully, she shined the light on the pony’s face and cringed.
It was an enemy. It was one of them! Biting her tongue, she took a cautionary step back, her hind leg knocking against something loudly. Hearing it, the enemy mare turned her bleeding head towards the sound. Her weary eyes widened at the sight of the intruder or, perhaps, at the sight of the glowing horn on her head.
The unicorn just stood there, frozen in place before the dying earth pony, the race that had for so many centuries been the bane of her kind. The earth ponies, not to mention those equine monstrosities who swopped out of the sky on wings of terror, had warred with her people for so long that no one remembered why they were fighting. Finally, it all came to a head as they unleashed all-out genocide, bombarding each of their home worlds and sending seed ships across the stars in hopes of finding a new home.
As far as the unicorn knew, she was the only one of her kind to have escaped. She’d barely managed to avoid destruction at the hooves of a pegasus ship not too long, having escaped annihilation and landing her ship safely on the virgin world. She never expected to find an earth pony here of all places. Was she a scout for a potential invasion force? Was a Republic armada on its way here even now?
She had to get back back to the seed ship. She had to make sure that the eggs were safe.
“Wait,” the Republic pony said before the unicorn could leave. She looked back, not completely understanding the earth pony’s guttural language. “Don’t…don’t leave…them…”
The unicorn shook her head, not fully understanding.
“Eggs.” She puled her arms too her bleeding chest, cradling them as if holding an infant. “Babies.”
The unicorn’s eyes flashed with recognition. She took a look the Republic pony. She seemed to be all alone, just like she had been. And these “babies” she mentioned. Could she be….?
The unicorn looked around in awe. This was a seed ship! The Republic had had the same idea as the Imperial High Command. Had they too tried to save their species by sending vessels filled with their young across the cosmos? It would be a startling coincidence, and yet, looking back on it, it made sense. Each side recognized that doom was coming. Each knew the end would destroy everything. They had to ensure that something survived. They wanted something of themselves to live on.
In that way, they weren’t so different after all.
“Please,” the dying pony pleaded, though again the unicorn had no idea what she was saying. “Save…” she began sputtering blood. The unicorn dared to get closer. While she was no healer, she knew that the pilot wouldn’t last long. The shaft had punctured her lung which was no doubt filing with blood. She began to wonder if the ship had a medical bay, perhaps an automated medical unit that could…no. It would make no difference. Even if the sickbay had survived without taking any damage, there was no way the unicorn could move her.
She casually approached the dying mare, her horn dimming so as to not hurt her sensitive eyes. While she may not understand her speech, the unicorn understood the sense of fear and hopelessness that permeated her face. She was dying and she knew it, and yet…
“Home,” she told the unicorn, her voice horse as blood trickled down the side of her muzzle. The unicorn looked at her oddly. What did that mean? The word was as alien to her ears as everything else that came out of the mare’s mouth. “Home,” she said again, emphasizing the word. “The passcode is…home.”
“H-Home?” The unicorn mouthed. This word, whatever it means, must be something very important. Perhaps her name? The name of her ship? Somepony she loved? The Republic mare cradled her arms again, rocking them back and forth.
“Home?” The unicorn repeated. She looked up, behind the chair with the impaled pilot. It suddenly dawned on her. If this indeed was a seed ship as the one she arrived, then that would mean there would be some kind of containment or storage space for the unborn children. Even now, the unicorn’s seed ship was gradually revitalizing the eggs, their growth accelerated. There would be a herd of young ponies running around soon. They will need guidance. They will need a protector.
The eggs in this ship had lost their protector. She was dying. Without their ship, without their guardian, they wouldn’t last very long. A crazy idea came to the unicorn’s head. It was madness, utterly. Why would she even think of…
“Home,” the earth pony said, her voice barely audible this time. “H-Home…” her head slumped and her breathing stopped. She was gone. The unicorn stood there for uncounted minutes just staring at the body of her enemy. No, she thought. All her enemies were dead. All her people’s enemies were dead. The earth pony was just another survivor like her, a survivor who had one last job to do. Now it seemed that task fell to her. The unicorn approached the dead pony. Placing a hoof on her head, she gently smiled and said a prayer in her native tongue, one to guide her into the after life or whatever it was that earth ponies believed in.
After that, she left the bridge and worked her way towards the innards of the ship. It was a complete mess and she had to navigate through bent corridors and crooked halls. Finally, she found the source of her search. How could she mistake it for anything else? It was almost an exact replica of the womb back in her own seed ship. She was right. The earth ponies, the unicorns, maybe even the pegasi had had the same idea.
Approaching the womb, the unicorn spotted what looked like a visor on the surface. Gently, she waved a hoof over it. The visor came to life, glowing. “Password?” The machine voice said, the same voice that once powered the entire ship. This was its final remnant, its final mission. All it that was left to do was…
“Password,” it said again, blinking.
The unicorn did not understand. She had no idea what that word meant. But there was one word she had heard over and over again, the same word that, while utterly alien, carried with it the weight of an entire species.
“Home,” she said without thinking.
The screen blinked two times. “Password…accepted.” The womb came to life, the inner workings beginning the tedious and difficult process of revitalizing the frozen embryos therein. The unicorn recognized the same process that had taken place aboard her own seed ship. She smiled at the prospect of having more children to look after. She didn’t care that they would be earth ponies. Her own children would not be alone. They would have brothers and sisters. Perhaps, with the right upbringing, they would learn to avoid making the same mistakes as their ancestors had.
“Home.” The word, she did not know what it meant. But somehow, she knew it was something beautiful. A tear fell down her eye.
Outside, night had fallen. The stars were alight as daylight dimmed. But one star stood out above all the others. A ship materialized out of warp space over the blue-white world, its pilot exclaiming upon seeing it up on the view screen.
“Is that it?” The pilot, a male pegasus, asked aloud. “Is that our new home?”
“It appears so,” the female voice of his ship’s A.I. responded. “Shall I begin landing procedures?”
“Yes,” he said, exasperated after years of solitary travel aboard the seed ship. “Take us home.”
“Confirmed.”
The pegasus ship began its descent, leaving a trail of fire as it entered the atmosphere. Onboard was the future of his race, and below, the future of Equestria.
Fin
Author's Note
This story is drawn from a short story idea I developed a few years ago.
The idea of how the pony tribes were so contentious with one another always interested me. Perhaps it is because it's in their history? Many a time we kill and hate without ever asking ourselves why. Perhaps in some far off time, our ancestors were at war with another as well and were forced to share this same planet. Have we learned anything since?
Perhaps it is time to unlearn.
