Mass Core

The thousands of metal and plastic parts shifted and swirled in Starlight’s magic, each one moving precisely and evenly as they combined together at high speed. She floated behind them, suspended by her own biotic power, and checked her omnitool to ensure that the schematic was correct. As she moved and fabricated, the occasionally reached out to install the systems she was building into Armchair’s halls, trailing a long path of technology.

As she moved forward, Starlight suddenly became aware of a presence behind her. She stopped and reversed her direction to see Trixie looking up at her with a mixture of awe and something like fear.

“Trixie,” said Starlight, dropping to the floor but allowing the fabrication of her equipment to continue. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Oh.”

“But that’s not why I came to see you. I needed to talk to a pony.”

“Why not Lyra?”

“She’s outside with that…the one with the mask.”

“Oh,” said Starlight, turning back to the fabrication process she was overseeing. “They must be installing my ship’s weapons. I hope they make sure that the polarity bias matches what Arachne’s doing. Or else this will be a very short mission.”

“It’s not Lyra I wanted to talk to,” admitted Trixie. “It’s you.”

“Me?” Starlight turned back around and set her now completed dispersion manifold gently on the floor. “Why me?”

“Because you’re a Core.”

“I’m a pony. And so are you.”

Trixie smiled. “You sound like Scootaloo.”

“Yes, your captain. Who tried to hunt me down like an animal to put me back in a specimen jar. Forgive me if I remain somewhat cold to that idea.”

“She’s not a bad pony.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“She used to let me out of the core. To walk around. She even treated me like a real member of the crew.”

“She shouldn’t have had to ‘let’ you do anything.”

“But it was all a lie…”

Trixie sounded on the verge of tears, and Starlight felt uncomfortable. Starlight picked up another set of screws and circuitry and began compulsively assembling it. “What happened?”

“She tried to rape me.”

The device Starlight was assembling immediately clattered to the ground and shattered. “Damnit!” Starlight looked down at the pieces, and then at Trixie. “Look, Trixie, I can’t really help with this kind of thing. If you want, we can find you a doctor or a counselor on the Citadel. Or you can talk to Jack- -”

“I don’t like Jack. She’s too scary. And…I need to talk to YOU.” Trixie seemed to be on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry,” said Starlight. She put her hoof on Trixie’s shoulder. “If you want to talk about it, I can take a break. But I’m not a doctor.”

“She didn’t even do anything. I don’t I was really in any danger. She’s just twelve, a little filly, and I have magic, but…it hurts. It hurts so much. She was my friend. Or I thought she was. I trusted her. She was the only pony that treated ME like a pony, and then she tells me that I’m just her property.”

“You’re not property. Neither of us are. There’s nothing that makes us different from the rest of them. All ponies are born equals, despite what they say.”

“I wish I could believe that. But I was…no, we were, we were both born as Cores.”

“I was born a unicorn,” said Starlight. “I had parents who loved me. I lived in a city, and I had a best friend named Sunburst. I wasn’t a Core until they made me into one.”

Trixie looked across the hall out one of the large windows, but she seemed to be looking so much farther. “It was the same for me. I lived with my daddy. We were in the circus. He was always so proud of me, even when my spells didn’t go right the first time. I was going to be a performer…”

“You still can be.”

“With these?” said Trixie, running her hoof over the deep ports in her skull.

“That sort of thing doesn’t matter here. Besides, I think the implants make us sexier.”

Trixie smiled- -not a sad smile this time, but just the briefest flash of a real one. “These aliens,” said Trixie. “The way they treat you…is it real?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“They act like they’re your friends. Like they don’t even realize that you’re a Core.”

“Because they don’t. They are my friends. All of them. Even Lyra to some extent.”

“But how?”

“Because to them, I’m not a Core. I’m not even a pony. I’m just a person, the same as they are. None of that fate or destiny or special talent crap. I am me, and they accept that.”

“You’re so lucky.”

“But I shouldn’t have to be. Equestria did this to us, and it was wrong.”

“It’s not like there’s anything we can do about it.”

“Maybe not. Or maybe there is. I’m going to try regardless.”

Trixie let out a long sigh and continued to look out the window, watching the aliens trying to clean up the remnants of her former ship and the other vessels- -not a single one of them using a living Core trapped inside- -docking and unloading as usual.

“I don’t want to go back,” said Trixie at last.

“You don’t have to. You can stay here, with us. With me. Or you can leave. You could go anywhere and do anything. Perform on the Citadel, or Omega, or settle down on any planet. I hear they even have alien ponies here. They don’t talk, though, which is probably a good thing.”

“Yeah,” said Trixie, oddly halfheartedly. “I could live here. I’d like that.”

“You don’t sound very excited.”

“It’s just…overwhelming.”

Starlight and Trixie sat together for a while. Eventually, though, Starlight went back to work. Trixie followed behind her, and the two occasionally talked about various things, ranging from Trixie asking Starlight to recount her escape from the Harmony to information about all the types of aliens that lived in the Citadel to what it would actually be like to try to live with the non-talking ponies of Earth.

Apart from her company, Trixie was not much help. Her magic was comparatively weak, and her grasp of the physics and mathematics required to do what Starlight was oddly limited. Trixie seemed to respond to this by feeling inadequate, but Starlight had no reason to judge her for it.

Eventually, the line that Starlight was installing was completed. She still had substantial work to do with Arachne in linking her reactor to Armchair’s, but she decided she needed to eat something. Trixie also seemed to be hungry as well; Starlight’s description of a frozen burrito- -the main food source stocked in the freezers of the break room aside from the strange meat that Sjdath ate- -caused Trixie to salivate visibly.

On the way to the prefab room that had been at some point declared the breakroom, Starlight passed through the edge of the main cargo bay where the Mako had been stored until Lyra had destroyed it. It was intended as a shortcut, but when Starlight saw who was in it, she could not help but stop.

“Si’y!” she called, galloping forward.

The hanar turned away from Sjdath, who he had been talking to, and looked at Starlight through the optics of his exosuit.

“Starlight Glimmer,” he said. “This one is pleased to see you intact, complete, and not in the clutches of the Cerberus. Also, this one humbly greets the other pony who appears to be having an appropriate fear response to this one’s awesomeness.”

“You’re okay!” said Starlight, excitedly. “I heard you were in the hospital, but- -”

“He is not ‘okay’,” growled Sjdath. She crossed her arms and glared at Si’y.

“Captain Sjdath is correct, unfortunately,” said Si’y. “At the moment, this one is still badly injured. This suit is the only thing keeping this one’s insides from becoming this one’s outsides.”

“If it’s that bad, why did the hospital let you…you snuck out, didn’t you?”

“This one does not like hospitals. And the hanar’s reliance on drell is...embarrassing.”

“You should be in a saltwater tank right now,” hissed Sjdath. “Not up and walking around!”

“This one does not walk. It has tentacles, not legs. As you are quite well aware.”

“Is there something between you two I should know about? Wait, don’t answer. I don’t want to know.”

“This one returned prematurely because it heard that there will be a suicide mission of great epicness undertaken in the immediate future.”

“I wouldn’t call it a suicide mission, but- -”

“It would be for you, in your state. If you’re trying to earn overtime, I’m not paying! I’m not going to let my best employee work himself to death. Literally.”

“Sjdath- -”

“This one is aware of that. It knows of this situation, and regrets it. Not the part about being the only survivor, that will be acceptable. The part about not partaking in an epic battle.”

“You’re not coming?”

“Of course he isn’t.” Sjdath looked at Si’y angrily. “He’s going to stay here on the Citadel where it’s safe. Because he is not a vorcha and has a delicate, squishy body that gets damaged easily and regenerates slowly.”

“You do not need to point it out. This one is acutely aware of the hanar’s substantial limitations. It did not come to join the party, as much as it desperately wants to.”

“Then why did you come here, Sianiris?”

“To give Captain Sjdath this.” One of his tentacles shakily reached behind him and produced removed a large pistol from its locking mechanism.

“I remember that pistol,” said Starlight, “you got that on Omega.”

“I thought Jack said it was just a volus knockoff.”

“It was. But this one modified it. Frictionless firing surface, extended cooling coils, kinetic acceleration drive. This one even added harpoon ammunition.”

“Harpoon?” said Sjdath, her eyes widening slightly. “That’s illegal in every non-Alliance system. Even the baterians outlawed that.”

“Acquiring it was a nontrivial task.”

“But why? If you can’t go then- -”

Si’y extended his tentacle, giving the gun to Sjdath. Sjdath looked down at it, and then up at Si’y. “You know I can’t use guns. It’s why I hired you. I can’t see the targets, or even hold them properly.”

“It uses a turian grip, and this one has added a Varren Technologies assisted targeting system. It will link to your omnitool. Just take it.”

“Why are you giving it to me? I’m not going to be fighting. Not directly.”

“It is the gesture. And…this one wants you to be safe.”

Sjdath looked down at the pistol, and then took it.

“Also,” said Si’y. “This.”

He drew back one tentacle and with surprising speed slapped Sjdath in the face as hard as he could. Being coated and metal and robotically assisted, the blow was actually quite substantial.

“Si’y!” gasped Starlight. “Why would you do that?!”

“It’s a vorcha thing,” said Sjdath, rubbing the side of her face where a long gash was rapidly healing. She reached for her breathing valve, but instead of turning it, she took a deep breath and removed her mask completely. She then reached out and pulled Si’y close to her, kissing the frontal aperture of his suit.

“Sweet Celestia,” said Trixie, who was still watching patiently from a distance. “I don’t want a frozen burrito anymore, Starlight. I’m not hungry.”

“Me neither ,” said Starlight. “I think Lyra needs help with the…thing. So I’m going to go. Over there. To the thing.”

She trotted off with Trixie close in tow.

“That was so weird!” laughed Trixie.

“I know!” giggled Starlight.

They moved deeper in the ship, compulsively giggling like schoolfillies, until they reached the breakroom. It was a relatively small room suspended in an oddly shaped cavity in Armchair’s body. It had a refrigeration unit and a few tables bolted to the floor. Like always, it smelled extremely strongly of the seafood that Si’y tended to eat.

The room was not empty. Zedok and Lyra were both sitting at a table. Zedok was dressed in her newly modified clothes, and a Graal was propped against the table next to her. It was almost as large as Lyra, and had been equipped with a ridiculously long bayonet. Like her previous one, Starlight could tell that it had defiantly seen some use. She assumed Zedok had bought it used.

“I just can’t believe him,” muttered Zedok.

Lyra lifted a cup in her magic and sipped from it. “He’s just worried about you. I’m not. I know from experience: scars are sexy. And your dad knows that.” Lyra cleared her throat awkwardly, and Starlight thought she saw the green pony blush slightly. “At least you got a new eye. And didn’t lose your body from the neck down. Although the belly shirt? Don’t wear it to a fight. You’ll get gutted. And believe me, getting gutted HURTS.”

“It’s not that, it’s just that he can be so frustrating! I mean, I’m fifteen!”

“From what the doctors told me, most asari aren’t even allowed to cross the street by themselves until they’re in their fifties at least.”

“And most krogan have seen combat by age two.”

“That’s nothing to be proud about,” said Lyra, her eye narrowing. “You’ve never seen a real war, what it can do. He has. So have I. It’s not glamorous, and it’s not pretty.”

“I know, but…” Zedok looked up, for the first time noticing that Starlight had entered the room and was currently removing a pair of levo-flavored burritos from the overstuffed freezer unit. “Hey Star. Hey Trixie.”

“You know my name?”

“Of course I know your name. I only know three ponies, and you’re not Lyra or Starlight. It’s not hard to remember. I like your color.”

“Th- -thanks. I like yours too.”

There was a knock on the frame of the open door and Fenok peered in. Zedok groaned and put her head on the table. “Dad, if you’re coming to tell me that I can’t go, that it’s too dangerous, then you can just- -”

“I’m done yelling,” said Fenok. “And I’m done trying to change your mind. So I went through storage, and I found this.” He set a large flat case on the table in front of Zedok.

“Clothes? I told you, if I have the scars, I’m going to show them off.”

“I’m just glad you’re still wearing a shirt at this point. But no. Take a closer look.”

Zedok leaned closer, and her eyes widened. “This is armor.”

“It’s not top of the line. You know I can’t afford it. But this is genuine commando armor, even if it’s a few decades out of date. It belonged to your mother. I should have given you this instead of my shotgun in the first place. But I was just worried that you’d…that you’d end up like she did.”

“Mom’s armor?” Zedok took the case. “You still have it?”

“Of course I still have it. I’ve tried to sell it. Hundreds of times. But I never could. I guess she wanted me to give it to you.”

“Dad…”

“Your just so much like her. I can see that now. I wished you were more like me, but…well, maybe you are.”

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” said Starlight. “None of you do.”

“I already tried that,” said Fenok, darkly. “I let my wife go into battle alone, and I wasn’t there to save her. I’m not going to let my daughter do the same. Not until I’m sure she’s ready.”

“So…no boarding school on Thessia?”

Fenok shook his head. “No. But after this, I’m going to take you to Tuchanka. You need to see it. Then maybe you’ll understand why I am the way I am. Or you won’t. But you’ll be able to make your own choices.”

“Dude,” said Lyra. “You’re a big armored lizard thing. How can you possibly be this soft?”

“Patience. You learn that from raising a teenage asari-krogan.” Fenok walked over to the food storage container. “Do you want anything, Lyra?”

“I can’t eat solid food.”

“Broth, then. We have lots of broth.”

“Yeah,” said Zedok. “We just have Si’y swim in some salt water. Boom! Fish broth.”

Starlight burst out laughing uncontrollably and nearly choked on her burrito. Trixie smiled nervously, not understanding the joke.

“It wasn’t that funny,” said Lyra, who was herself smiling.

“I’m just imagining him- -soaking in- -a big pool of water- -with a ladle, basting- -BASTING himself!”

“Basto the hanar, then?” suggested Fenok.

At that one, they all laughed, even Trixie, even though she still clearly did not understand what was happening- -although she did take the opportunity to snatch away what was left of Starlight’s burrito.

Starlight did not even care about the burrito. She just enjoyed laughing with her friends. This was the life she was meant to have.

Later, Starlight found herself alone. It was night, and had there been windows in that part of Armchair’s body, she would have seen the starry blackness of space and the astounding nebula that the Citadel orbited. Instead, she descended through increasingly cramped, dark hallways toward the deepest part of the ship where neither she nor most of the other members of the crew spent much time. The catwalks gave out, and the hallways began to become uneven and nearly vertical in some places, indicating that she was firmly in Arachne’s territory.

To her surprise, waiting for her outside the heavy door to the engine room, leaning against wall, was Jack.

“So,” said Jack as Starlight approached her. “You’re actually going to do it, aren’t you?”

“I’m the only one who can.”

“You know you don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do.”

Jack sighed. “I hate this. Using you like that, like THEY do.”

“You’re not using me. This is my choice. They made me like this, so I might as well show them what they created.”

“Yeah. I can stand by that,” said Jack, shrugging. Her expression became more serious. “But don’t be an idiot. You know there’s a chance some of us might not come back.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. You have no idea how many friends I’ve lost doing stupid crap like this.”

“And yet you don’t stop doing it.”

“No,” admitted Jack. “Because somebody always has to. I just don’t know why it always has to be us.”

“You know what you need to do, if it comes down to it.”

“Yeah. I do. And we all do. I can’t believe we’re letting the horse take command…”

“Pony. I’m a pony.” Starlight turned toward the heavy door to the engine room and braced herself. “I’m going to be fine. We all are. I’m going to come back out.”

“You know,” said Jack. “This happened to me once before. Back on Earth. He said he’d be fine too. He never came back to me.”

“Crap, Jack, don’t be such a downer,” said Starlight, disguising her nervousness with a smile. “I’m about to become a god, even if it’s just temporary.”

“I’ve met gods. They’re a lot easier to kill than you would think.” She looked at the door. “I can go with you.”

“No. You can’t. Not where I’m going.”

“Yeah.”

Starlight reached up for the door command with her horn. The small hologram displayed over the center of the door twisted to its loading screen, and then the containment door slid open. As Jack watched, Starlight stepped in.