Mass Core 2: Crimson Horizon

Chapters

Chapter 9: Preparations
Chapter 10: Relations
Chapter 11: The Crystal Galaxy
Chapter 12: Lost Ship
Chapter 13: The 192
Chapter 14: Captain Lost
Chapter 15: In the Empire, Part 1
Chapter 16: Diplomacy
Chapter 17: In the Empire, Part II
Chapter 18: The Key
Chapter 19: Assasination
Chapter 20: The Wreckage
Chapter 21: The Wounded Queen
Chapter 22: Scootaloo
Chapter 23: The Damage
Chapter 24: The Princess’s Story
Chapter 25: The Same Pony
Chapter 26: Discussion
Chapter 27: Miranda’s Gift
Chapter 28: War on the Citadel
Chapter 29: The Planet
Chapter 30: Criminals
Chapter 31: It Begins
Chapter 32: The Gate
Chapter 33: Confrontation of Cores
Chapter 34: The Setting of the Sun
Chapter 35: Defeat
Chapter 36: Victory
Chapter 1: From the Void
Chapter 2: The Ambassador
Chapter 3: Crystal Pony
Chapter 4: Light
Chapter 5: On the Citadel
Chapter 6: Ship of Failure
Chapter 7: Parnack
Chapter 8: Sjdath’s Planet

Chapter 9: Preparations

Scootaloo shifted her collar slightly. Her new uniform was not unpleasant; in fact, it was of much greater quality than her standard-issue naval uniform. The fabric was a much higher grade of ballistic fiber, but its design hardly betrayed that fact. The normally brown-yellow or dark-dyed material was now perfect white, accented only by the threadwork around the ultra-light armored inserts. It even came with a small superfluous skirt.

According to Wintygust, Scootaloo looked amazing. Arguably, Scootaloo knew that she did too; after all, the Priestess garb and naval uniforms were both designed by Rarity herself, and they were not even that much dissimilar. Still, Scootaloo could not help but feel out of place in it. Clothing like this had never been meant for Pegasi; Scootaloo could even feel where the back had been modified to accommodate her disproportionally tiny wings.

Twilight’s couriers had been fast- -incredibly so. Scootaloo was not sure what she had expected, but it was almost frightening how much effort Twilight had put into supplying this mission. Not only had the delivery craft brought Scootaloo a new uniform, but they had brought mountains of provisions and technological modifications to compensate for the RENS Failure’s dying Core.

In all, though, Scootaloo had mixed feelings. Twilight’s unilateral decision irked her, but she had never really been terribly invested in her role in the Royal Navy- -and being a Priestess could only be an advantage. Still, the suddenness of it bothered her. That, and the uncertainty of how this would affect Rainbow Dash.

Scootaloo paused at a door in one of the higher level cargo bays. The majority of them were empty- -but not this one. Scootaloo tapped on the door.

“Dr. Heart? Are you in there?”

There was no response.

“I’m coming in,” said Scootaloo. She activated the security panel on the side of the door, and it slid open. Scootaloo was immediately greeted by an unpleasant smell, something like a combination of decay and very old wood mixed with something sharp and chemical. It was the smell that often clung to Lemon Heart’s body and clothing as she moved throughout the ship.

As Scootaloo entered, the situation only got worse. She had never been in Lemon Heart’s lab before- -of the ponies on the ship, only Wintrygust had, and only once. Since Heart was an independent contractor, she was expected to be offered some level of privacy. Scootaloo shuddered to see how Heart had used it.

The doctor had clearly made herself at home, largely by displaying numerous taxidermy animals throughout the bay. There was a preserved bear in one corner, and the wall was lined with several moose heads, deer heads, and various skulls, all mounted with the most morbid of care. Various birds and small, fuzzy creatures lined the various shelves, forming a kind of perverse and silent forest scene as ducks and dogs conversed with badgers and quail, among other things.

Scootaloo shivered. “Wow,” she said to herself. “It’s a good thing Fluttershy isn’t here to see this.”

Despite the animals lining the walls, the bay was mostly filled with large, wooden shelves bolted to the ground. Their fronts were covered in glass to secure the samples, but as Scootaloo walked between them, she could still see the contents. Most of them she could not identify- -not did she want to- -but some she could not help but recognize. Among those were a number of half-preserved pony heads floating in gelatinous liquid, and several jars filled entirely with preserved Core horns.

The high ceiling was also decorated with a number of hooks. Suspended from many of them were Core spines and component architectures in various stages of disassembly, assembly, or decay. Scootaloo realized that with those and with much of the racks of surgical equipment and machinery that stood on the edges of the room, Lemon Heart probably had the capacity to do an entire Core conversion surgery if she had access to a filly or colt to perform it on.

While contemplating a set of dusty squirrels that had been arranged to appear to be debating the contents of a poster-sized schematic annotated in Old Tartaran, Scootaloo suddenly bumped into a tall pony.

“Oh, excuse me,” she said. She looked up, and her eyes widened. “Wait- -who are YOU?”

Almost as soon as she asked, she realized that the pinkish earth-pony stallion standing before her would never be able to answer. His glass eyes stared blankly ahead, unable to acknowledge Scootaloo’s presence. There was no sight, no life: he had been killed and stuffed.

“Ah, Scootaloo,” said Dr. Heart, suddenly appearing from behind a shelf. Her sudden appearance made Scootaloo jump. Lemon Heart approached, holding something in her magic. She tried to obscure it, but Scootaloo had already seen that it was a narrow pony skull with a metallic horn surgically imbedded in its forehead. Heart plopped it in a jar of formaldehyde and gestured toward a portly preserved rodent.

“Do you like my beaver?” she said with a smile. Her smile suddenly faded. “I hear you’re a big fan of beavers…”

“What the hay is this?” said Scootaloo, pointing at the stuffed pony beside her.

“Oh, him?” said Heart. “That’s just Strawberry.”

“You have a preserved pony corpse on my ship, and you didn’t tell me?”

“Why would I have to tell you? He’s just an earth pony. Or used to be.” Nonchalantly, she started walking back through the shelves. Scootaloo followed. “He is quite a specimen, though. If I do say so myself.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little morbid? Just a little?”

Heart glared over her shoulder. “You wouldn’t have such a high opinion of them if you had been around for the Huntsmare Uprising.”

Scootaloo stopped walking. Heart approached a large oak desk and climbed into the chair, adjusting a large hawk that stood on the bookshelf behind her and pushing some of the various schematics and notebooks to the side.

“The Huntsmare Uprising was over three hundred years ago,” said Scootaloo, slowly.

“Indeed,” said Heart, almost wistfully. “I was just a filly when it happened. They tried to storm my family’s castle, and well, I think seeing all of those filthy peasants get torn up by an auto-turret might have- -” she giggled “- -affected me.” She sighed. “Of course, the regulations were…unfortunate.”

Scootaloo wracked her mind, trying to remember Equestrian history. It was not difficult to recall, though. The Huntsmare Uprising was a historically significant event for the earth pony race.

“The regulations?” said Scootaloo. She looked back at the earth pony behind her, wondering just how long taxidermy lasted. “You mean...how Celestia’s decree banning the sport hunting of earth ponies?”

“I know! Totally absurd! The sport was already a dying art at the time, but my family had practiced it for centuries. I can still remember my father taking me out on the hunt. The misty mornings, the sounds of their hooves as they scattered….ah, good times.” She frowned. “Of course, we tried to use breeders. They failed miserably. They don’t run. They don’t even try. They can watch you put a bullet in their friend’s head, and they’ll just stand there. Idiots.”

“And Strawberry?”

“Heavens no. He was a servant, relatively recently. Fifty, sixty years? You lesser races, you just don’t live very long.”

“And you don’t see anything wrong with anything you just said?”

Heart shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “Nope.” She pulled something out of her desk with her magic, as well as a screwdriver. She began to work on whatever it was, attaching pieces to it an occasionally glancing at her schematics. “Besides. It is not as though earth ponies are good for anything apart from being farmers.”

“One of my best friends is an earth pony. And my best helmsmare was too.”

Heart looked over her work. “And what did they do for a living?”

“Applebloom was…well…a farmer. And Rose was in the navy.”

“And where is this Rose now?”

“She retired. And started a florist shop in the Rose Nebula colony.”

“So, growing flowers. I can see why they demoted you. But no so much why they re-moted you.” Heart’s lavender magic pulled at Scootaloo’s high thread count collar. “Seriously…this uniform was not meant for you. A Pegasus Priestess…it’s absurd. It casts doubt on the entire Cult of Harmony.”

Scootaloo just looked over the top of the desk. “Are you finished yet?”

Heart just continued to twist her screwdriver, her violet eyes staring into Scootaloo’s. “You have a level head, don’t you?”

“I’ve been through a lot,” said Scootaloo, calmly.

“This is good. I knew that choosing your ship was a good choice to continue my work.” She gestured around her. “I tend to do things that, well…are best left without the Company’s oversight.”

“So I’m just your cover?”

“Mostly, yes. But my work is critical to the future of Equestria.”

“And what, exactly, is it?”

Lemon Heart smiled broadly, and Scootaloo knew that she had just asked the wrong question. Asking scientists what they were doing was never a good idea, but with Dr. Heart, it was no doubt going to be something grotesque.

“I have been a Core engineer for most of my life. I have worked on projects you can’t even dream of, and had access to knowledge that even the Fleet Commander doesn’t know.” She picked up a container. The front was transparent, revealing a partly disassembled but still-living bone inside, its marrow exposed. “What if I told you that the substance responsible for our magic is a discrete element, a material that can convert neurological signals into gravitonic waves- -arcanium, we call it- -was present in the bones of all ponies at some level?”

“I would say that is heresy,” said Scootaloo. “You of all ponies should realize that. Only unicorns are able to use magic.”

“Yes, we are, but only because of our innate anatomy.” Heart gestured toward her golden horn. “But what if it were possible to artificially raise the arcanium levels in lesser-value ponies and dissipate it WITHOUT a horn? Think of it, Scootaloo- -we wouldn’t need to waste unicorn lives on Cores anymore! We could build them out of earth ponies, breeders, criminals, the poor! The expendable! And the amount we could make...” she giggled uncontrollably. “So many ships…” She suddenly cleared her throat. “But I suppose I will have to move my work elsewhere. For now, at least.”

Scootaloo was not sure how to feel about what Heart had just described. Once again, she found herself at a moral crossroads. As a naval officer, she understood the necessity of Cores- -they were the technology that allowed faster-than-light spaceflight, and critical both to maintaining the Equestrian Empire and to its defense. At the same time, she had seen what it took to make a Core, and what they were. She had seen what it had done to Trixie, and knew what it had done to others. No pony deserved that.
Still, like always, Scootaloo ignored the ethical question and forced herself to continue on with her business. “That’s what I came here to talk to you about, actually.”

Heart sighed. “I know. Twilight gave you some sort of mission. And that means I, no doubt- -”

“You’re coming with us.”

Heart’s eyes widened. “Me? ME? You’re joking. You’re not joking. Why the hay would you want me?”

“I don’t know,” said Scootaloo. “Frankly, you weird me out. And I’ve worked with Fluttershy. But Twilight was insistent that we take you, specifically.”

“Hmm,” said Heart. “I see you are on a first-name basis with the immortal Goddess of Friendship now. I’m not going to argue with a Princess, of course. And I suppose it is better than trying to move all my furry friends back to the ancestral Heartmoor Castle. But I don’t like it.”

“Why?” asked Scootaloo.

“Because the Princess knows what I do. Better than a great many ponies. And the things I do, they are not good things, Scootaloo.”

“Like what?”

“Things you are better off not knowing.” Heart smiled broadly. “But thank you for visiting! I do enjoy being here. To some extent. Especially your breeder’s cooking. Say, if I made you an offer, do you think you would sell her to me?”

“No.”

“But I haven’t even made the offer yet.”

“Wintry is not for sale.”

Heart suddenly became serious. “You disgust me,” she said. Then, as quickly as she had shifted, she went back to being on the verge of laughter. “But it was so nice seeing you!”

“I’m doing the final preparations for departure,” said Scootaloo. “I will contact you when we leave.”

Heart did not respond, apart from nodding as Scootaloo started her trek back through the shelves in the opposite direction that she had come. Scootaloo had only turned around several shelves when she very nearly bumped into yet another taxidermy earth pony, this one set in the narrow corridor between one of the shelves and the wall.

Scootaloo looked up at the pony. This one was a mare. Her coat, like the stallion, was pink, but much brighter and more cheerful. Her hair and tail were both curly and unkempt, and her eyes looked almost alive.

“Wow,” said Scootaloo, calling back through the shelves. “It’s morbid as hay, but your stuffed mare actually looks really realistic!”

“Mare?” said Heart, poking her head around the shelves. “I don’t have a stuffed mare.”

Scootaloo looked back at Heart, and then back at the pink mare- -only to see the last puff of a pink tail retreating into a high vent grate and hear the distant sound of giggling.

Both Scootaloo and Heart spent at least a minute staring wide-eyed at that vent, not knowing what to do. Then, finally, Heart spoke.

“Hmm,” she said. “I guess Blossomforth was right.”

Chapter 10: Relations

Once again, Garrus found himself looking into a mirror at himself. He sighed, wondering when his appearance had come to be so important. When he had been young, it had not really mattered. He had possessed one blue uniform. Even when it had gotten half-destroyed- -along with half of his face- -he had still kept wearing it. Now he had a closet full of clothing, including the suit he was currently wearing.

“Don’t you look nice,” said Falare, approaching him from the side.

“I don’t know,” said Garrus. “I just…well, I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. Is it too late to back out?”

“Yes,” said Falare. “You promised the ambassador that you would take her to dinner. You have to keep your word. You’re Garrus Vakarian, after all.”

“I know,” sighed Garrus. He looked into the mirror and saw that although Falare was smiling, she seemed sad. Garrus turned around. “Falare, is something wrong?”

“It’s just…no. It’s foolish.”

“Foolish? You do realize that I’m Garrus Vakarian, right? I’ve done ten lifetimes of foolish things, and never regreted a single one. Well, except that one time. You know, that one time I tried ryncol. With the zetan…”

Falare giggled. “I know, I know. There isn’t a bigger fool in the galaxy than you!”

“Hey!”

“It’s just that…well…you never take me to dinner.”

Garrus was somewhat taken aback. “What do you mean? We get food all the time.”

“Yes, at state dinners or when you order that horrible takeout. No, I mean a real dinner. Not as Councilors. Just the two of us…together.”

“You’re the one who’s afraid of starting a scandal.”

“I know…” Falare’s expression fell.

Garrus sighed. He put his hand on her shoulder. The clothing she wore was thick, but he could still feel the shape of her narrow asari figure beneath. “You’re right. I’ll tell you what. During the next Council recess, I know this place on Omega.”

“Omega?” said Falare, surprised. “You seriously want to take me to Omega?”

“Well, yes. You need it. Cooped up a monastery all your life, and then thrust into politics? Trust me, I know a lot of people there. Some of them are even good people. We can take a week, and have some adventure.”

Falare paused, considering. “I always wondered what Morinth saw in that place…” she smiled. “But it sounds delightful. As long as I’m with you, the location does not matter so much.” Falare’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Oh! I know exactly what you need!” She crossed the common room to an alcove on the side where a small garden was growing beneath bright ultraviolet lights. She considered the contents for a moment, and then picked a metallic silver flower.

“A swamp orchid?” said Garrus, confused. He was familiar with Palavan fauna as much as any turian would be. Swamp orchids were uncommon but nothing special to turians; Falare, apparently, rather fancied them. Hers had actually won several awards at the biannual Citadel botany fair, although to Garrus they just looked like every other kind of flower.

“Give this to the ambassador,” said Falare, handing the bloom to Garrus.

“Why?” asked Garrus, still taking the flower.

“Because you nearly got her strangled to death, perhaps, and desperately need to apologize? Trust me, women love flowers. Even pony women, I’m sure.”

“Thanks, Falare.” Garrus reached forward and kissed her on the cheek- -or did so as best as he could with turian mouthparts. Falare’s cheeks flushed with purple. He then checked the chronometer on his omnitool and started toward the door. “I’ll be back at around nine, ten maybe.”

“I’ll be waiting,” said Falare. “And don’t forget to order her desert!”

“I won’t!” said Garrus, stepping out through the door and waving. He passed out of sight, and the door closed behind him. Falare rubbed her cheek, and sighed. She wondered how she could feel so good and so bad at the same time.

Across the Citadel, a white unicorn was standing in front of a similar mirror finishing the preparations on her clothing and makeup. Objects swirled around her, ranging from various jewelry and accessories that she rapidly shifted over her neck and ears to compare them to various makeup applicators. Through this storm of magic and motion, a tall breeder Pegasus moved deftly, carrying a secondary mirror in her mouth to give Rarity the extra views she required.

“Oh,” whined Rarity, switching rapidly between a golden necklace with a large red gem and a silver one with several stunning sapphires. “O17F, I just can’t decide! What do you think?”

“I could not deign to give you fashion advice, Lady Rarity,” said O17F. “I personally prefer the gold, but only because red gems match my eyes.”

“Hmm,” groaned Rarity. Through the mirror, she saw the hanar Si’y floating toward her.

“This one has finished the security sweep,” he said. “And, at the risk of sounding redundant, it asks if the honorable ambassador Rarity would not reconsider this one’s presence at the dinner? It is able to be quite discrete, and feel uncomfortable leaving you. It already feels woefully ashamed that the ambassador was harmed under its watch.”

“Oh, don’t worry yourself,” said Rarity. “Garrus will be there, and I am totally confident in his ability to protect me.”

“It is best not to doubt the ambassador, alien,” said O17F. “Remember who is paying you.”

“Oh, now, don’t mind O17,” said Rarity, moving several earrings into position and applying her eyeliner. “She is just protective, and doesn’t like you addressing me directly. I, of course, admire your confidence. And attitude.”

“This one is honored by your compliment, and the very, very generous pay you are supplying this one.”

Rarity turned around. “What do you think, Si’y? How do I look?”

“She looks impeccable,” said O17F, trying to lead Si’y’s answer.

“In all honesty?” said Si’y, pausing.

“Oh, of course,” said Rarity. “A dishonest opinion can be simply disastrous.” She rolled her eyes. “Like last fall’s first run.” She shivered.

“To this one, your attire is hideous,” said Si’y. Rarity’s jaw dropped. “None of the polarities match appropriately.”

“Polarities?” Rarity paused. “Wait…do you mean to say you can see polarized light?”

“All hanar can,” said Si’y. “It is critical for our bioluminescence-based communication system.”

“That’s amazing, truly. I’d never even considered that.” Rarity’s eyes widened. “Can turians see polarized light as well?”

“No. Just hanar, and some vorcha.”

“Oh. Then I’m sure it will be fine. But it will be bothering me all night now…”

“This one apologizes.”

“Oh, you don’t need to,” sighed Rarity. “However, if diplomatic relations go well, I will consider hiring a group of your people for future consultations.”

“Even though you are unable to see the polarization yourself?”

“Oh, darling, one does not simply ignore perfection when it is within her grasp!” Rarity struck a dramatic pose, and then looked up at the necklaces suspended in her magic. “Oh! Yes, the silver one will work nicely, won’t it?”

“This, this one agrees upon.”

There was a tone from the next room of the Council-supplied temporary residence. Rarity squealed. “Oh! He’s here! He’s here! O17F, my makeup, my dress!”

“Cleared and confirmed,” said the breeder. She gave a small salute. “You are ready for public appearance.”

“Oh, thank you!” said Rarity. She twisted her head, pushing her perfectly coiffed mane into position. She then trotted toward the front room, her horseshoes clicking on the expensive tile below.

Si’y followed her back through the spacious room where another all-white, red-eyed winged pony was approaching the door. Sweetie Belle sat reclined on a chair, bouncing a fuzzy green ball against the wall with her magic and looking tremendously bored.

“Now,” said Rarity, “make sure that you get Sweetie Belle into bed before eight, and don’t let her have any sweets. And if anypony even thinks about touching her, I expect you to deal with the problem completely.”

“The bodies will never be found,” confirmed Si’y.

“Excellent.” Rarity pranced past Si’y, just as the breeder servant was opening the door.

The metal slid aside, and Rarity paused, her breath catching in her throat. Her heart beat slightly faster, and she wondered if he could somehow hear it. For all she knew, that was something the aliens could do.

“Ambassador,” said Garrus, smiling. He knelt down to Rarity’s height and extended his hand. In it was a single flower. Rarity gasped. She had never seen a blossom quite so stunning in her life. It was entirely silver, with a complex network of capillaries and tiny spines amongst its whorls of petals. The main petals were accented down their centers with the most subtle shade of blue, and it seemed to sparkle in the light.

“This…this is for me?” she asked.

“Of course.”

Rarity picked up the flower in her magic. “Is this a carving?” she asked.

“A carving? No. It’s an actual flower. An orchid, actually. They grow on my homeworld, Palaven.”

“It matches so perfectly,” said Rarity, feeding the rigid stem of the flower through one of the edges of her hair. She had no idea how Garrus had picked out a flower that matched her outfit, eyecolor, and mane color so perfectly, but the effort payed off. Rarity felt her heart beat even faster, and felt her face growing warm.

Garrus stood up. “Shall we go, then?”

“Y…yes, of course,” stuttered Rarity. She cringed, hoping Garrus had not noticed. Perhaps he had, but he still smiled anyway.

From inside the room, Sweetie Belle and Si’y watched the door close. The breeder servant who had opened it walked away, and when she was out of sight Sweetie Belle pointed her hoof at her open mouth, pretending to gag.

“This one knows,” said Si’y. “It never understood the appeal of turians. Vakarian, though…perhaps.”

Sweetie Belle leaned back in her chair. “So,” she said. “You’re supposed to foalsit me, right?”

“This one is a hanar. We do not sit.” Si’y turned toward Sweetie Belle. “This one is, however, bored of being trapped here. Would the sibling-unicorn Sweetie Belle like to visit the Citadel?”

“Another tour? I think I’ll pass.”

“Not a tour of Council-approved ambassadorial locations. To visit the actual Citadel. Shopping, food, asari. That sort of thing. This one is so bored.”

Sweetie Belle sat up. “But Rarity said- -”

“This one will not tell if you do not. Besides, this one will be there. You will not be unsafe.”

Sweetie Belle smiled mischievously. “You’re talking about sneaking out.”

“This one does not sneak. It will simply float out the door.”

“So you’re not nearly as competent as my sister things you are, are you?”

“Of course not. But the performance was quite worthy, if this one proclaims so concerning itself. It wonders if it might even land a part in the next Blasto film. One can only hope.”

Sweetie Belle laughed and stood up. “Finally, something to do! And I thought I was going to have to bother Scootaloo again…or even call up Applebloom. And you’re comping my sister, right?”

“The expenditure will be laundered to reduce blame. But yes.”

“Buck yeah. Let’s do this.”

Garrus led Rarity into the restaurant to a table that he had selected in advance. The traffic of the restaurant was relatively minimal; due to the nature of its elite audience, the proprietors were always careful to keep it as exclusive as possible. As a Councilor, however, Garrus was always welcome. Reservations had not been difficult to get.

The various patrons around him watched with calculated disinterests as he led a small horse through the room and pulled out her chair for her.

“Oh, why thank you,” giggled Rarity, Taking her seat. The chair had originally be intended for what had unfortunately come to be known in the vernacular as a “humanoid”, and Garrus was not entirely sure if it would be appropriate for a pony. His instinct paid off, though, and by sitting on her haunches Rarity was able to approach eye level over the table with some amount of comfort.

“There we go,” said Garrus, sliding her to the table and taking his own seat.

“They just allow you to seat yourself?” asked Rarity.

“Of course. I’m Garrus, after all.” Garrus smiled. “No. That’s actually pretty normal. Salarians find it insulting, apparently. And, frankly, most of the people who can afford to come here are salarian.”

“It certainly does seem exclusive,” said Rarity, looking around. “Do you come here often?”

“Not really,” said Garrus. “Food isn’t a terribly big part of turian culture. That, and I’m always so busy. I’m sure you can relate to that.”

“Oh, darling, of course! Back in Equestria, I often barely find time to eat. It’s so nice to finally get to slow down for a moment.”

“I guess it is.” Garrus reached for two utensils that were set near the centerpiece of the table. They were small, angled pieces of metal that looked not out of place amongst the forks and knives. When Garrus picked it up, though, it automatically projected a holographic menu.

“Oh my,” said Rarity, somewhat surprised. “That’s the menu, I assume?”

“Yes,” said Garrus. “We’ve taken the liberty to translate yours as close as we can to Equestrian. It’s not perfect, but it certainly gave our xenolinguists some practice.”

“Oh, that’s so thoughtful!” Rarity’s horn glowed, and she picked up her own menu and examined it.

“That’s amazing,” said Garrus.

“What?” said Rarity, suddenly seeming embarrassed.

“Your biotics. That you can just move it like that.”

“Oh, this? You mean my magic? Oh, darling, I can assure you, this is entirely ordinary for a unicorn.”

“It doesn’t make it any less special.”

Rarity bushed. “Oh my. But people here have magic as well, don’t they?”

“Some. Not turians like me, except in extremely rare cases. But the asari. And some volus, humans, a few krogan. And none have dexterity like that.”

“Well, I assure you, this is quite ordinary for a unicorn.”

“Which makes me wonder how the other ponies manage to eat.”

Rarity almost answered, and then paused. “You know…I don’t actually know. Troughs, probably. I’ve seen my dear friend Applejack use one more than once.” She scrolled through her menu, her eyes widening when she realized that clicking on something would expand it to show the exact ingredients, allergy information, and a description by the chef. “There is simply so much here!” she exclaimed. She looked up at Garrus. “I can hardly decide. What are you having?”

Garrus groaned. “Soup, probably?”

“Soup,” said Rarity, as though that were nearly an insult. “With all these choices? I’m partial to the idea of the dl’ahg scampi over seasonal greens. I don’t know what a dl’ahg is, but it sounds divine.”

“It’s like a fish,” said Garrus. “Except hairy. And more bitey. The salarians grow them but I have no idea why.” He looked over his menu at her. “Aren’t ponies obligate vegetarians?”

“Well, technically…” Rarity grinned and whispered, as though she were telling a secret. “Don’t tell Fluttershy, but after my last assignment as an emissary to the Canid system, I’ve gotten quite partial to meat. Especially seafood.”

“Well, the chef’s a hanar. They’re pretty good at that sort of thing. My choices are a bit more limited, though.”

“Oh? Why?”

“The amino acid difference. All life on Palaven is based on dextro amino acids. Everyone else uses levo. Even you. I can’t eat most food without getting really, really sick.”

“That’s terrible! But don’t they have cuisine that you can tolerate?”

“They do…but…”

“But what?”

“Turian food is bland. Really, really bland. And quarian food- -they also have dextro biology- -probably was good two hundred years ago when they could chew, but at this point they just eat liquids. Spicy liquids. And you’ve met Kalejen. I can’t do spicy foods with the ulcer.” Rarity giggled. “Which means that all that’s left is krogan food. Half the stuff on Tuchanka is dextro, apparently. The krogan don’t even care. But krogan food is…well…let’s just say they don’t cook it. They let it decay until it’s ‘ripe’. Not fruit. Meat.”

“Oh dear.”

“Yeah. It was better when we had humans here. They’re levo, but they at least tried to experiment with dextro cuisine. Some of the stuff they made was actually, well, amazing.”

“I’m not familiar with humans,” said Rarity, looking around. “Although I can’t help but feel like I’ve heard the name before…which species are they again?”

“There aren’t any here,” said Garrus. “They were banned from Council space. They look kind of like asari, but usually brown in color with hair like yours.”

“Banned? Why?”

At about this time, a hanar appeared to deposit a bowl of bread on the table before leaving silently. Garrus wished that he had elected to bring his optic HUD; sometimes hanar would swear at patrons in polarized light, and with the device Garrus could sometimes pick it up. It was hilarious.

“Well,” he said. “There were…issues. The humans are…different. To say the least. They used to have a human Councilor, actually.”

“But there isn’t now.”

“No. He tried to betray us during the Reaper War. We barely managed to stop him in time. And the next human Councilor…well, things c hanged after the War. The humans were already on edge. Their homeworld was already unpleasant, but the war ruined it. I hear nobody even lives there anymore. And things changed in the Council. The humans just couldn’t deal with it. Relations fell apart.”

“Well, they don’t sound terribly reasonable. You are probably better off without them.”

“No,” said Garrus. “Not really. And not just because of the food.” He looked Rarity in the eye. “I had a lot of friends who were human. My best friend was, during the War.”

“Oh,” said Rarity, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.” She tried to change the subject. “You…you were in this War, I take it?”

Garrus nodded. “It’s funny, actually. I used to be a C-Sec officer. Just a beat cop and part-time detective. Then Shepard shows up, and, well…” he smiled and shook his head. “There I’d never seen anything quite like him. I don’t think I ever will again. He was something unique. There’s actually a statue of him in the Presidium Park.”

“He sounds special,” said Rarity. “But…the operant word, I believe, is… ‘was’?”

Garrus sighed. “Yeah. Shepard almost singlehandedly stopped the Reapers. Even when the Council refused to admit the threat. He was there when Saren and Sovreign nearly destroyed the Citadel. He took us through the Omega relay and back. He singlehandedly took down a Reaper and pulled its heart out. The guy literally died once, and CAME BACK. And do you know what happened? The last battle. The very last, on earth. We won. But he didn’t make it out.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Sometimes…” Garrus paused, considering if he should say what he was about to. “Sometimes I think that I should have been there, with him. That we should have gone out together.” He paused again. “You know, I’ve never told anybody that. Not even Falare. I’m sorry if I’m affecting the mood.”

“Don’t be,” said Rarity, her eyes wide. “It’s okay. But…I know it’s rude that I ask…but is that how you got those scars? In the War?”

“These?” Garrus gestured to the region of his face that was overgrown with scars. “Oh, no. That was from when I was a vigilante on Omega. Protecting the innocent from gangs and criminals has a price. Besides, I think it makes me look sexy.”

“Oh my,” said Rarity, softly.

“But what I was really hoping to talk about was you. I’m finding I don’t know a thing about you.”

“There’s not much to say,” said Rarity, feigning modesty. “I certainly haven’t lived a life nearly as interesting as yours.”

“I’d still like to hear it, if you don’t mind talking about it.”

Rarity smiled. “Well, I was born a third-tier unicorn. My father was a former hoofball player, and my mother worked in the manufacture cookies, of all things. I, personally, took an early interest in fashion design.” She laughed softly. “To think…it all started when I opened one boutique in a little town on Equestria Prime. Now I’m a galaxy-renowned designer and owner of the most profitable clothing and armor manufacturer in all of Equestria.”

“How did that happen?”

“Hard work, shrewd business practices, and inspiration. It may not be apparent to you, but ponies do not normally wear clothes. Only on special occasions, largely. Marketing to them is not easy.”

“I see,” said Garrus. “So you came here to expand your market?”

“Perceptive,” said Rarity. “Certainly, a galaxy of beings who wear clothing constantly would indeed be excellent for business. But it’s more than that.”

“What?”

“To put it simply? Equestria is TERRIBLY dull. Fashion there is just so…conservative. Not at all inspired. I’ve started a bit of a revolution in that sense, but I need more. So, when Twilight Sparkle offered me an ambassadorial role, I practically leapt upon it.”

“To experience new cultures,” said Garrus. “And to improve your designs.”

“Exactly! Mingling with high-society has always been a passion of mine, after all, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity.” She fluttered her long eyelashes. “And I don’t regret it for a second.”

“Well, if you want to talk about corporate ventures, the Citadel has a number of contacts that can manage the trade logistics once we pound out a treaty.”

“Oh, you! Trying to get a treaty out of me on the first date? Besides, I didn’t come here to talk business. I can tell you didn’t either.”

“You know what? No I didn’t.”

“Now,” said Rarity, leaning forward and moving a bun onto her plate. “Tell me about your work as a vigilante…”

Falare turned a page in her book. She looked up at the clock, and calculated Garrus’s exact path. He was no doubt at the restaurant by now, probably talking about boring diplomatic things. Falare herself had little interest in the nature of trade deals and the subtly of political maneuvering, but it was something she excelled at. Much of that prowess, though, came from the fact that most people were afraid of her. With ponies, she doubted that they knew what she was. With that, she lost much of her higher political ground- -but at the same time, she recognized it as a chance to be treated like a real asari, a treatment she had only ever received from Garrus.

So, once again, she found herself with some quiet downtime. That was until the doorbell rang.

Falare stood quickly, setting her book aside. She was momentarily frightened, wondering who would be calling this late- -but then, as always, she was reminded of the fact that she was an Ardat-Yakshi. Even with the Reaper implants, there was little left in the universe that could stand against her for very long.

She opened the door, and rather than being greeted with the galaxy’s most unfortunate assassin, she found herself looking down into a pair of large red eyes.

“A delivery for Councilors Falare and Vakarian,” said the all-white Pegasus pony, gesturing toward a large box at his side labeled in bizarre pictographs.

“I am Falare. Who are you?”

“My designation is largely inconsequential. I am simply here to deliver this package.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

“A gift from Ambassador Rarity. She sends her regrets that she could not deliver them at the opening ceremony, but there were difficulties removing them from cryostasis.”

“Them?”

“Your gifts. You will see. I would hate to ruin the surprise. Do you require assistance moving it?”

“No,” said Falare, still somewhat shocked by the late-night delivery. “Um…yes. This is excellent. Tell the ambassador that we are profoundly grateful for her generosity and for this demonstration of goodwill.”

“I shall,” said the pony, smiling. “She will be pleased to hear it. If there are any problems, please report them to us at once. Now, if you will excuse me, Councilor.”

“Of course.”

The Pegasus pony flapped his wings and took flight, retreating back into the Citadel. Falare watched him go in pure shock. She had assumed the wings were decorative and had not actually expected them to work.

After recovering her composure from having just witnessed a sentient creature fly under his own power, Falare turned to the box. It was some kind of large crate, and it appeared to be on wheels. With some effort, she was able to move it indoors.

Once it was inside, Falare stopped to contemplate it. Rarity had already sent a substantial number of gifts. Most of them were gemstones, jewels, and gold, all of which Falare was sure would eventually find their way into various museums throughout Council space. This crate, however, seemed too large to contain anything similar.

After several minutes of inspecting the surface, Falare finally found what appeared to be a trigger. Without considering the consequences, she pressed it. There was a hard click from within the box, and suddenly clockwork within it sprung to life. The box shifted, and several small bays opened on the sides.

Almost immediately, several small ponies stepped out. They were tiny, and their bodies and underdeveloped wings were as strikingly white as their eyes were red.

The ponies immediately responded to their sudden freedom by marching around the box and standing in formation. They all looked extremely similar, save for one with severe muscular hypertrophy. On close inspection, though, Falare saw that all seven were uniquely different.

One of them, a female and apparently the eldest, took a stance at the side of the formation.

“Hello,” she said. “I am 11863-Station AN74-Subgroup 12-Heritage GEN 33-Batch 9978-Sibling 403. We have been transferred to your possession by the unicorn Rarity.”

“Transferred?”

“Yes,” said the smiling filly. “Assuming you are the asari Falare?”

“I am.”

“Then you are our new owner.”

“Own…owner?”

The filly nodded and turned her head toward her smiling compatriots. “You have been provided with a selection of breeder ponies from several select, divergent gene lines. All of us are intact and within less than a year of breeding age. Our genetics are diverse enough to allow your people to establish a sizable, stable breeder population within ten years.” She reached behind her wings and removed a scroll, giving it to Falare with her teeth. “Information concerning our genetics and heritage. I have also been trained with the necessary techniques to oversee the breeding process or to train one of your people in the required procedures.”

“Of course,” said another filly. “It would be rude for us to issue demands of how a gift is to be used. You can do with us as you please. You can sterilize us for standard work, or slaughter us for meat, if that is something you aliens do.”

“Although we would prefer if you did not do the latter,” suggested a small colt.

“Yeah,” said the hypertrophied one.

“I don’t understand,” said Falare. At least, she did not think she did. She felt sick, as though something heavy had sunk deep into her stomach. On some level, she already knew. “What exactly are you?”

“Oh,” said the main filly. “We assumed you knew. In Equestria, a large portion of semi-technical, clerical, and some manual labor is performed by breeder ponies. We have been selectively bred on farms for generation for maximum docility and obedience, as well as pleasant demeanors for use as servants and laboratory test subjects.”

“You mean slaves. You’re slaves.”

“No. ‘Slaves’ implies that we are ponies. We technically are, I suppose, however legally we are considered a separate kind of entity. Our parents were property, and their parents, and so on. We are property. And you are our owner.” Falare suddenly knelt down and wrapped the filly in a hug. “Oop,” said the filly. “Hugs? Hugs are good too.”

“I’m sorry,” said Falare, who found herself in tears. “I’m so, so sorry.”

The first thing Sweetie Belle realized as she followed Si’y through the Citadel was that the tour the Councilors had planned was overwhelmingly sterile and dull. It was as though they had taken everything fun out of their society and replaced it with boring, clean, shiny things. The exact kind of things that Rarity tended to like, in fact.

Far off that course, though, things got a lot more interesting. Instead of big, open areas with manicured lawns and perfect buildings, there were neon lights and advertisements scrolling across buildings filled with aliens of all kinds. Sweetie Belle was familiar with almost every species in Equestrian space, ranging from ponies to griffons to diamond dogs and everything beyond- -but none of that compared to the aliens of the Citadel.

As she walked, following Si’y, Sweetie Belle saw a small, round creature in an armored suit having a loud and angry argument with a massive and bored-looking quadruped who kept saying in a totally monotone voice “with the most furious rage” to preface every statement. Nearby, she saw a woman covered from head to toe in an environment suit laughing with a green, reptilian man with ink-black eyes. Several children ran by, all of different races. One of them stopped at a shop and quickly bought some ice-cream from a smiling asari before running off after his friends.

“Holy crap,” said Sweetie Belle. “You mean all this was down here this whole time? How many people are on this thing?”

“Several hundred million,” said Si’y.

“Several- -what?! Equestria Prime barely has a population that size! Who even built all this?”

Si’y shrugged. “This one does not know. Enkindlers? This one was not there at the time.”

Sweetie Belle was about to ask if that was a joke when they passed what she could only assume was one of Si’y’s species. It was pink and glowing, floating by placidly. It turned slightly to see Si’y, but did not seem to take kindly to his presence and floated off in a huff.

“What the…is that what you look like under all that armor?”

“Correct, approximately. This one is far sexier. Also, not female.”

“That was a girl hanar? How could you tell?”

“We just can.”

Sweetie Belle looked back. “Was she at least attractive?”

“Hanar do not find each other attractive. Especially this one. This one greatly prefers asari. And one vorcha.”

“Which ones are vorcha again?”

“The Sweetie Belle will know one when she sees it. However, exterminating programs have largely removed them from the Citadel to date.”

Sweetie Belle did not want to consider what kind of a species could be attractive but also require extermination. She almost asked, but was suddenly interrupted by a holographic representation of a type of alien that she had not seen before, projected from a merchant’s stall.

“I’m Commander Shepard,” it said. “And this is my favorite store on the whole Citadel!”

“Oh, wow!” said Sweetie Belle. “Si’y, we should shop here! I don’t know who this ‘Shepard’ is, but if it was his favorite store, it MUST be good!”

Si’y agreed, and several minute later after negotiating vehemently with the nearly spherical shopkeeper, Sweetie Belle walked away with several rings around her horn as well as numerous alien weapons and a tiny model of the Citadel added to her inventory.

“These rings fit so well!” said Sweetie Belle. “But I have no idea why anyone here makes rings if none of you have horns.”

“Are you sure you are old enough to be wearing rings around your horn?”

“Sure. Why not? Why? Do I look young to you?”

“Indeed. Even this one would be hesitant to attempt you. It is not interested in children.”

“I don’t know if that’s supposed to be reassuring or an insult.”

“It was intended as both.”

Sweetie Belle and Si’y turned a corner, and Sweetie Belle suddenly saw a small crystalline colt trying desperately to reach the keypad on a vending machine.

“Come on!” he said, stretching his body as long as it would go and still only being half way to his destination. “I want…soda!”

“Um, do you need help?” asked Sweetie Belle.

Wing had not seen her coming, and jumped so high that he actually passed the panel he had been trying to reach.

“No!” he cried. “Of course not! Not from the likes of you! Go away!”

“Tsundere, much?” ventured Si’y.

“Here. Just move over.” Sweetie Belle levitated the crystal pony out of the way. He was surprisingly light, and his facets glittered surprisingly well.

“Put me down! Unhoof me! I am an elite soldier in the Crystal Armada!”

Sweetie Belle dropped him. She then looked up at the glass over the various bottles of soda. Concentrating, she reached in and levitated on with her magic. It dropped into the collection bay, and she removed it, passing it to Wing. She even snapped off the cap.

“You will want to save that,” said Si’y. “This one has heard that if you save up enough of them, you can purchase krokodil on earth.”

“Do you even need to drink?” asked Sweetie Belle. “Aren’t you made of crystal?”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t like the flavor,” said Wing, snatching the bottle away from Sweetie Belle’s magic. He took a sip, and then, begrudgingly added. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go back to my room…wherever it is.”

“You don’t know?”

Wing frowned. “It’s not my fault that this facility is not designed with any semblance of logic!”

“You are lost.”

“Yes. But only because I want to be.”

Sweetie Belle sighed. “Do you want to come with us?”

“Why would I want to take assistance from a filthy heretic?”

“What the BUCK is your problem?!” snapped Sweetie Belle. “I’m trying to be nice to you, and I don’t appreciate being called ‘filthy’!”

“Well you ARE!”

“Give me that!” Sweetie Belle snatched the soft drink out of Wing’s hooves.

“Hey! Give that back!”

Before he could come and take it, Sweetie Belle chugged the entire contents of the bottle. She then burped loudly and threw away the bottle into a nearby receptacle.

“Holy Dagon,” said Si’y. “This one has never seen anyone do that with turian cola.”

“My sister taught me how to stop my gag reflex from working,” explained Sweetie Belle. “I have no idea why.”

“My soda…” Wing looked profoundly disappointed.

“Well, that’s what you get for being rude. And I’m not getting you another. Come on, Si’y. Let’s go buy ice-cream and more guns.”

“This one does enjoy guns…”

“Wait!” cried Wing. “I’m…sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

“Well I’m at least trying to be! It’s just that…well, I’ve never come in contact with an Equestrian.”

“So you automatically assume I’m filthy?”

“No. You are. Sweat and hair and grease…but you’re not that much different. I’m sure that your people’s propaganda sees me in a similar way.”

“Um…not really. I didn’t even believe that crystal ponies were a real thing until I saw you.”

“Wait, what? We have a population of several billion! We’ve been locked in a war defending ourselves from Equestrian aggression for MILLENIA! How could you not know that we’re real?!”

“I’m not exactly a fan of current events. We just assumed it was Cadence. Almost all of your ships are automated.”

“Most are. The pilot program is barely two decades old.”

“So,” said Si’y, “would you say that the pilot program…is a pilot program?”

“Indeed,” said Wing, not understanding the joke.

“Twenty years? Why didn’t you abandon it with the peace treaty?”

“Because there isn’t a peace treaty! It is an armistice! The war is still occurring. Waiting. And when it returns, I must be ready to defend the One True Princess from the conquering heretic hordes!”

“I don’t see why we’re heretics. I mean, we still accept that Cadence is an alicorn. Just an evil one.”

“Evil? No! Princess Cadence is a creature of pure love!”

“Then why did we have the war?”

“Because you Equestrians were continually trying to conquer our galaxy. That’s why.”

“Oh. Well. I wasn’t there. I was, like, five when the war ended. I don’t have a problem with the Crystal Empire. In fact, I think you’re really pretty.”

Wing blushed to the extent that it was possible for living crystal to blush. “Well…for an organic…you’re not...you know…”

“He wants to grab your horn,” whispered Si’y.

Both Sweetie Belle and Wing blushed.

“For the record, I don’t.”

“Why?” said Sweetie Belle. “Is something wrong with my horn?”

“What? No, it’s just that- -it’s a horn and- -”

“I was joking.”

“Oh.”

“I bet I’m the first unicorn you’ve ever seen, aren’t I?” Sweetie Belle twirled, her skirt flowing around her. “What do you think?”

“You’re not the first. The Royal Consort is a unicorn. So is the High Exemplar. You are definitely better looking than either, though. In a relative sense.”

“You think I’m pretty.”

“I think you’re tolerable to look at.”

“He wants to have your pony babies.”

“You shut it!” said Sweetie Belle, swatting at Si’y. He drifted out of her reach easily. “Assuming…you know…you have something to shut.” She turned toward Wing. “Hey, I know you want to go back to your room and all, but how about you come with us?”

“Come? With you?”

“Told you,” said Si’y.

“Yeah,” said Sweetie Belle, ignoring the hanar. “We were going to get ice-cream, and go shopping, and laugh at krogan.”

“And this one was going to write its name on the rears of several asari consorts if the opportunity was to arise,” added Si’y. He then added, “if this one has an extra pen, you can- -”

“Don’t say it!”

“Sure,” said Wing. Sweetie Belle and Si’y looked at him, pausing at the unexpected response. “What?” he said. “You owe me. You took my soda.”

After dinner, Garrus had expected to go home. The meeting with Rarity had been more fun than he expected, even if he once again had to eat quarian soup. Rarity, however, insisted on a different course. She insisted on showing Garrus her starship, and Garrus, having perhaps a few too many drinks with dinner, had no reason to object. He was actually somewhat curious as to how pony ships operated, and whether they had forward batteries.

As it turned out, the inside of the ship was remarkably, amazingly clean. Everything was bright white and shiny, with almost every surface consisting of sculpted, curving architecture and minimalist controls. There were no apparent open panels or controls, apart from the blue holographic panels that sometimes pop up. This vessel, as Rarity repeatedly stated, was actually unique. She had designed it herself.

The crew, likewise, consisted almost entirely of white, red-eyed wing-horses- -which, as Garrus learned, were called “Pegasi”- -save for the captain, a grizzled looking greenish unicorn who smiled and spoke maybe five sentences explaining how the navigation controls operated.

The whole event was, admittedly, somewhat fun. At least until they got to the engine room. There, Rarity proudly showed Garrus a large tube in which was suspended an apparently unconscious unicorn colt. He was floating in some kind of fluid, the substantial implants in his spine and head connected to long tubes that snaked upward and downward into the perfect white architecture of the ship. From what Garrus understood, this was how pony starships moved. They did not use standard mass cores; instead, they utilized powerful biotics as an energy source. Garrus was not sure the specifics of that choice, or if the child in the tube had actually volunteered for this procedure- -but he did not ask. It was not something he wanted to know. Just looking at that tiny, suspended body, though, made him feel ill.

Fortunately, Rarity quickly took him out of the engine room and back through the curving hallways of the ship.

“And as you can see,” said Rarity, gesturing to a passing male breeder. “My selection choice for crew is, if I do say so, quite progressive.”

“How so?”

“Traditionally, having males onboard is considered terrible luck. I, however, have purchased a crew consisting of both of properly sterilized mares and geldings. I find the geldings actually have such darling personalities, and A776 takes such excellent care of our Core.”

“I see,” said Garrus halfheartedly. Hearing her say that was more than a little disturbing. By all accounts, she was not a cruel pony. In fact, she was generous, polite, and even funny at times. And yet, somehow, she had just described using geldings to maintain a biotic trapped in stasis as “progressive”.

Rarity did not seem to notice Garrus’s disdain, despite the fact that she could not seem to take her eyes off of him. “And there is just one more thing I want to show you.”

“Oh? Well, I’d be glad to see it.”

Rarity smiled, and approached a narrow black outline in the wall. Her horn glowed, and a door separated and opened inward. Rarity trotted into the dark room beyond, and Garrus followed.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust, but he quickly realized that this room was starkly different from the sterile corridors of the ship. It had, for one, carpet. There were also paintings hung on the walls, as well as a desk and several chairs- -and a canopy bed.

“Um, ambassador?” said Garrus as the door closed behind him.

“Please,” said Rarity. “Call me Rarity.”

Her horn glowed, and a the buttons on the rear of her dress glowed with blue lights as they were unfastened. Her dress fell to the floor- -neatly folded, of course- -and Garrus found himself staring at a naked pony.

“Rarity, please,” he said. “This isn’t appropriate.”

Rarity looked sad. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“I didn’t say that. It’s just that…”

Rarity smiled, and then stepped onto her bed and struck a pose that was apparently supposed to be sexy. To some extent, it was. Garrus felt a sudden force on his back, and realized that she was pushing him toward her with her biotics. When he was close enough, she stood on the bed and kissed him. Deeply.

“Rarity,” said Garrus, pushing her face away from his but leaving her front hooves on his shoulders. “You of all people should realize the scandal this could cause.”

“Only if one of us tells about it,” she said, smiling. “And I believe I’m entitled to at least one impropriety.” She sat back down on the bed. “I suppose you could say I’ve fallen for you. But more than that, I want our people to grow closer together. Certainly, one with such experience as you simply must realize that this is the fastest way to ensure a certain level of diplomatic closeness.”

“Are you trying to coerce me, Rarity?”

“Heavens, no!” Rarity leaned back, lifting her rear hooves into the air. “Coercing you would be if I threatened to leak this little rendezvous if you refuse. Or ruin the diplomatic process. But that would be, well, uncouth.”

When Garrus had no reaction, Rarity pouted. “Nothing? You realize that although I’m associated with generosity, this is most certainly not a gift I give to many stallions.”

“I’m sure,” said Garrus. He looked back to the door, and then at Rarity. She was definitely not unattractive, even for a small horse. Rarity seemed to pick up on that, and turned over, lying on her stomach. She gently lifted her tail. “Well, if you want to refuse, I suppose that is your choice. But I really was hoping that we could enjoy each other’s company just a little more. For diplomacy’s sake.”

Garrus looked back at the door, and then at Rarity’s slowly wagging tail. Then he sighed and started to take off his own clothing.

“I’m getting too old for this…”

It was nearly midnight, but Falare was still awake. She sat in her chair, as she often did on long sleepless nights. Usually, her insomnia came from the incessant dreams of her sisters and those that took them from her. Tonight, though, she sat reading aloud to a group of small ponies staring up at her with rapt attention.

“…For the longest time, she had always wondered why her wings would extend involuntarily whenever she was aroused,” she read. “. Now, for the first time, she understood because she knew what she wanted- -oh, thank you Liinoa,” she said as one of the fillies delivered her a cup of tea on a saucer.

“You’re welcome, Miss Falare,” she said when Falare took the cup and set it on the end table. She took a sip, and looked back to her place in the exorbitantly large and poorly edited book she was reading.

Before she could start, however, the front door opened. Garrus stumbled in, looking slightly disheveled.

“Well,” said Falare, “it looks like somebody has been taking his time with the ambassador.”

“You…could say that,” said Garrus.

One of the white colts approached him. “Hello, Councilor Vakarian! Can I take your coat?”

Garrus blinked, and then looked to Falare, pointing at the colt. “Um…?”

“A gift, apparently,” said Falare, darkly. “From Rarity. Apparently, she thought giving us a seed stock of slaves was an appropriate diplomatic gift.”

“We’re not a good gift?” said the smallest of the fillies.

“Oh, no, sweetie,” said Falare, scooping up and cradling the tiny pony in her arms. “You’re an excellent gift…it’s just that slavery is considered abhorant in our culture.” She looked up at Garrus. “Did you know about this? That the ponies keep slaves? Not just slaves…that they purpose-breed them?”

“I was vaguely aware of the fact, yes. There are a number of them on Rarity’s starship.”

Falare’s eyes narrowed, and the room fell silent. She set the filly she was holding down and looked at Garrus. “What were you doing on the ambassador’s ship?”

“She just wanted to give me a tour. You know, to look around…things. That’s why I’m late.”

Falare crossed the room and leaned near Garrus. She sniffed several times, and then looked him in the eye. “Turian brandy…and…” Her eyes widened. “You smell like her perfume…Garrus, you didn’t…”

“Falare, I can explain- -”

“You Kirked the pony!”

“So what if I did?” snapped Garrus.

Falare stepped back. “I can’t believe this. I just. I just can’t! How could you, Garrus?”

“So, what, I’m not allowed to have sex now?”

“With a horse?”

“With a pony! And you know what, she was GOOD. Not like you- -oh wait! I wouldn’t KNOW!”

The room once again fell silent, and from the expression on Falare’s face Garrus immediately knew that he had waded into territory much farther past anything that was considered safe.

“So that’s how you feel,” said Falare, softly. Without warning, she pulled off the outer robes she wore. Underneath, she was wearing undergarments, but that was not what she had been intending to show Garrus. Instead, it was the blue lines of the Reaper technology that ran throughout her blue skin and the surgical scars left by the surgery that had placed it there. “Do you see this?”

“Falare…”

“Look at me, Garrus!”

Garrus did, and saw that she was on the verge of tears. “Did you know that this hurts? How much pain I have to put up every second of every day? And guess what? It barely even works. I can still feel the cravings. Do you know what it’s like, having to live with you? To have to deal with all this, this desire?”

“Then why don’t we just fuck and get it over with?”

“Because it would KILL YOU! It’s not a negotiable thing! Nobody escapes it! The first lover I ever had? She DIED. In my arms. Do you have any idea what that’s like? How could you?!”

“Then why did you agree to live with me, then, if it’s such a hell for you?!”

“Because I enjoy your company! Because I thought we had something special! Even if I can’t have sex, I thought we…that you and I could…” She looked away, and then down at the seven pairs of red eyes watching the events unfolding. “You shouldn’t be watching this. Go to my room, please. I’ll make up little beds for you.” She looked over her shoulder. “I don’t trust HIM around you.”

“Falare,” said Garrus. “I didn’t know!”

“Then you’re an idiot. Just…” She took a deep breath. “It’s late. I can’t do this right now. Just go to bed.”

Falare walked off, leading her small herd of juvenile ponies in front of her. Garrus watched her go, and then sat down in her chair. He put his head in his hands.

“Shit…” he said to the empty room.

Chapter 11: The Crystal Galaxy

Starlight slowly brought herself to a stop. There was no sensation of inertial changed, and no sound of any engine or air-processing system. The only sound was the almost imperceptible buzz of the tech elements of her projected starship.

With the much greater number of individuals present, Starlight had been forced to expand the size of her construct, including more rooms and larger hallways. This was not much of a problem; theoretically, the maximum size she could produce was much, much larger than her normal design. She had never tested the larger size, though; there simply had been no reason to.

Down in one of the frontal projections, Darien was clinging to the floor, scratching futilely against the biotic energy and tech plating trying to get a grip.

“Hey, hey, hey,” said Zedok, kneeling down and putting her hand on his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay!”

Darien looked up at her, nearly on the verge of tears. “These are the worsest of upsies!”

“I can’t believe this,” said Beri, who was sitting on a nearby chair. “For one, that even an asari would go for that…thing. And that I’m stuck with all of you. I’m a trained professional!”

The tech-based chair beneith her suddenly retracted into the wall, causing Beri to drop to the floor.

“Hey!” she cried.

“Sorry,” said Starlight, her voice transmitted throughout her structure. “Conserving resources.”

Farther up in the ship, Starlight sat suspended from her construct, watching the universe through her sensory array. Usually, she used the various implants in her body and tech constructs to transmit the images and metadata directly into her brain, but this time, she projected high-resolution color images of the system outside into several large screens.

“Is that it?” said Jack, looking at the image of the mass relay that Starlight had currently fallen in orbit around.

“Yes. The only two relays close enough to the edge of the system are the one in the Sol system and this one.”

“And from what I’ve heard,” said Lyra, “we’re not getting anywhere near Sol.”

“Even I am not that crazy,” said Jack. She stepped closer to the image. “You know, I thought it would be bigger.”

“The size of the relay is not technically relevant,” said Armchair, who was crouched next to Starlight, his tiny robotic tail wagging with excitement. “In theory, all distances between any two networked relays are functionally nonexistent- -that is, there is no delay time through the hyperspace channel.” He paused. “The actual problem would be resolution. Which is dependent on the output relay more so than the input.”

“Meaning?”

“At the distance between two galaxies…calculating…calculating…”

“Don’t bother,” said Starlight. “I know what would happen.”

“I don’t,” said Jack.

“We do not think that you would want to. It would be…messy.”

“Star?” Jack suddenly seemed much more concerned.

“It won’t be a problem,” asserted Starlight. She removed the crystal IFF from her pocket. Lyra took a large step back.

“What?” said Starlight.

“Nothing,” said Lyra. “I just recognize Crystal technology when I see it.”

“Well…according to Jade Wing, this should be enough to access their mass relay network. I just need to access it.”

Starlight lifted the crystal in her magic and moved in front of her. The magic shifted, assembling into a complex mechanism of moving parts resembling clockwork that closed around the facets of the crystal. A second set of tech projections appeared, closing in around the crystal in a clasp and connecting to what Starlight assumed was its access ports.

Once it was in place, Starlight fed it a signal- -and immediately cried out.

“Star!”

“No, no,” she said, wincing. “It’s okay…holy BUCK…”

“What is it?” asked Lyra.

“I thought this was some kind of memory chip…it’s not. It’s a whole computer matrix. And not a small one. There are entire space stations with a TENTH the processing power of this thing.” Starlight omitted the fact that accessing it while unprepared for its actual nature had nearly destroyed her brain. Fortunately, her mental reflexes were fast enough to produce a firewall in time, but only barely. It had still hurt like the dickens.

“It’s probably designed to operate an entire fleet,” said Lyra. “Star, you shouldn’t be handling it. This isn’t safe.”

“We can assist,” said Armchair, firmly.

“No,” said Starlight. “I’ve got this.”

She sent a second signal to the crystal, and it turned sharply in her magic. Huge swaths of data flowed into Starlight’s mind. Not a lot of it was useful, mostly control ports for systems that it did not have a link to. Starlight adapted quickly, though, learning the nature of the crystal and its operation. In truth, it was actually very poorly optimized. Even while still devoting most of her mental energy to navigating it, Starlight was already coming up with better ways to use it.

“I have it,” she said at last. “The code parameters.”

“Now hold on,” said Lyra. “I’ve said it before, but you have to understand, Starlight. There’s no way to know what’s on the other side. If we go, there’s a chance we might not come back. And with what I know about them, this is going to end in a mess. There’s still time to turn back now.”

“It’s not like we’re going through the Omega relay,” said Starlight.

“I’ve actually done that,” added Jack. “Yeah, it was pretty hairy.”

“It’s going to be fine,” said Starlight, firmly. “I’m not even Equestrian. If anything, the Crystal Empire and myself are on the same side.”

“So that’s it,” said Lyra.

“Yes,” said Starlight. “And I’m going.”

Her ship tilted and slid forward through space, its trajectory shifting toward the mass relay. Starlight watched it growing closer, its gyroscope spinning perpetually in the emptiness of this nearly abandoned space. Once she was at the proper range, Starlight entered the code from the IFF. She suddenly felt herself being pulled toward the relay.

The ship accelerated, and suddenly it was out of Starlight’s control. The mass relay maneuvered her between its projection rails, and then all at once space seemed to shift. Starlight felt nauseous.

Then, as quickly as it had come, the feeling was gone. Starlight’s sensors flickered and returned new data concerning a new location.

“Well,” she said, smiling. “We didn’t disincorporation!”

Jack turned to Starlight. “That was a possibility?”

“No,” lied Starlight. “Still, my first time taking this construct through a mass relay. I think I did pretty well.”

“Look at that…”

Lyra had barely spoken in a whisper, but Starlight looked to the one remaining screen that was still functioning. While the other two were showing nothing but static at the moment, the third was displaying an external view from the ship. Starlight had already had an abstract idea of what she was surrounded by from her sensors, but seeing it with her real eyes made her breath catch in her throat.

“Holy crap…”

Outside, they were orbiting a new mass relay. Its original shape was clearly visible, down to the dim glow of its rapidly spinning gyroscope- -but unlike the first, this one was encased entirely in crystal. The result was that it was increased nearly ten times its normal size, complete with an extra pair of enormous crystalline rails extending outward toward the blackness of darkspace beyond.

That was hardly the only impressive part, though. Extending beyond the entombed mass relay was a system crystals. They were something like an asteroid field, except that some of them were the size of planets and all of them were arranged with surprising order into long trails that drifted off millions of kilometers to the perimeters of Starlight’s visual sensory field. All of them glittered and shone brightly in the light of a violet star.

“It’s beautiful,” said Starlight.

“Not, it’s not. Look closer.”

Starlight did, enhancing the image. Her eyes widened as she saw what was present amongst the crystals. Floating outside were hundreds of starships or the remains of them. Some were floating, either between the smaller crystals or in orbit around the larger ones. Some, though, were being slowly encased by them and slowly consumed.

“What…what is this?” she asked, even though she already knew.

“The results of over a thousand years of continuous warfare,” she said. “And a warning. Of what happens to invaders.”

“Star,” said Zedok, her voice transmitted through the ship to Starlight. “Are you seeing this?”

“Yeah,” said Starlight, softly. She was actually seeing it far better than any of the others could. They could see the ships- -the massive battleships and supercarriers down to the frigates and even independent fighters- -but Starlight could see at a much higher resolution. She could see the bodies, the mummified corpses of the crews that floated lazily and silently outside their former vessels, preserved perfectly for centuries by the vacuum of space.

“How many Cores do you think are out there?” she asked.

Lyra turned to her. “Every ship has at least one. Larger ones use multicore systems.” She looked back through the screen and pointed to a vessel that was over ten kilometers long. “That’s a hypercruiser. They haven’t made those in close to eight hundred years. It must have taken over fifty Cores to power.”

“It’s not fair.”

“War isn’t fair, Starlight.”

“Isn’t it? All those ponies out there, they knew what they were getting into. They made a choice. Did the Cores, Lyra? Did they get to choose this?”

Lyra did not answer. Starlight directed her vessel toward the system and began to move through the field.

“A thousand years of this,” said Jack, watching as the debris of thousands of Equestrian ships passed by on the screens. “I can’t believe you didn’t just- -” She stopped, and suddenly looked nauseous. She put her hand to her head and recoiled as though she had been struck. “Aw shit! What the hell was that?!”

“I felt it too,” said Starlight, wincing.

“We detect nothing,” said Armchair. “Nothing unusual has been encountered.”

“Yes it has,” said Lyra. “We just passed into the defense field.”

“Defense field?” said Starlight. “What does that mean?”

“It’s the answer to Jack’s question. The field is a projection of the Dark Princess’s magic.”

“You mean Cadence? What would she be doing out here?”

“She isn’t. From what we could tell, she exists close to the center of the galaxy and never leaves. You misunderstand. Her magic covers the WHOLE galaxy.”

Jack and Starlight stared at Lyra. “You mean a biotic field the size of a galaxy? That’s…that’s not possible.”

“She is an alicorn,” said Lyra, simply. “And not a young one like Twilight Sparkle. Equestria has the same type of field. It isn’t very strong. Enough that we can feel it at first, and enough that she knows we’re here. Its purpose, though, is to stop teleportation.”

“Teleportation? Why?”

“Why do you think? How long do you think the war would have lasted if Celestia could teleport the entire Fleet into the core of the Crystal Galaxy, or if Cadence could teleport her crystal horde into orbit around Equestria Prime? Neither side could ever win a decisive victory over the other’s homeworld. We just kept slamming into each other’s galactic borders.”

“For a thousand years?”

“Even longer. There was still fighting before the war.” Lyra pointed at a small ship half embedded in crystal. “Take that, for example. That’s a Questlord battlecruiser. My people have not constructed ships like that in close to two millennia. They must have been one of the first here. And Cadence still slaughtered them.”

“I thought you were Equestrian.”

“Not…exactly.”

Outside, Starlight suddenly became conscious of something moving amongst the crystals. She did not change the view on the screens so as not to alarm the others, even though she was sure that Jack already knew from her how her posture suddenly stiffened.

Starlight turned her sensors toward the anomalies and saw that the it was not simply a matter of something moving near the crystals; rather, several of the larger asteroids seemed to shift, their surfaces condensing into points and then suddenly splaying open into spiky, urchin-like spheroids. Four were produced, and almost as soon as they disconnected from their host crystals Starlight detected the presence of a mass effect field around them. They were charging with magic.

“We have company,” she said.

The crystal vessels moved quickly, skirting around the edges of Starlight’s bow. Two took positions in the front, darting suddenly and precisely in ways that no occupied vessel could. The other two stayed behind her, keeping their distance but making the fact that they were blocking the exit corridor clearly visible.

“Pony,” called Beri. “We’re surrounded. Does this thing have guns? Because we’re about to get into one hell of a fight.”

“Shut it, turian,” said Starlight, silencing her audio. “I’m trying to work.”

Almost as soon as she said it, the crystal computer that she was holding suddenly activated. Its internal optics changed, and it projected several images from its facets. From what Starlight could tell, they were text.

“What is that?” said Jack.

“I don’t know,” said Starlight. Some of the letters and pictograms looked familiar, but most were incomprehensible. “Equestria ripped out most of my spine and put me in a tube when I was three. I didn’t exactly get much of chance to learn how to read their language.”

“We can perform a processing algorithm,” suggested Armchair. “It will only take seventeen hours to begin the process- -”

“Don’t bother,” said Lyra, leaning against Starlight’s shoulder to get a good look at the text. “Despite the sexy metal body, I am still a pony.”

“You can read it?”

“It’s Crystal-dialect Old Equestrian,” said Lyra. “And I used to be a Questlord. Of course I can read it.”

Lyra’s working eye scanned across the text. “Okay,” she said. “The fact that they haven’t blown us into fragments is a good sign. This says they want to escort us. I’m thinking they’re detecting this thing.” Lyra tapped on the crystal, producing an odd sensation inside Starlight’s skull. “For all I know, they might think that we’re one of them. But it’s doubtful.”

“I don’t like this, Star,” said Jack.

“We can’t turn back now,” said Starlight. “Literally. How do I acknowledge the message?”

“Backward three, horsehead pictogram, squiggly Arabic-looking thing- -NO! Not that one!”

Starlight frowned and composed the message and quickly sent it. The crystal starships did not initially respond, but then the two in front fell into formation with the two in the rear and turned to the side, leading Starlight toward a second mass relay.

Once again, Starlight entered the alien device and felt space shift around her. Once again, she felt sick, and once again it passed. Then she found herself in a different system.

The scenery had changed drastically. In the first, the crystals floating around the edge of the galaxy had resembled an asteroid belt. Now, though, they resembled no astrological phenomenon that she was familiar with.

They were massive. The vast magjority of them were far larger than most planets, and Starlight could feel the combination of gravity and magic resonating from within their slowly revolving bodies. These, in turn, were connected to an incomprehensibly large megastructure. Starlight, being a Core, was capable of perceiving tens of millions of kilometers at once, and even that sheer volume of crystal machinery made her dizzy.

The crystals vessels led them deeper into the structure, and Starlight began to comprehend the rough shape of what was surrounding her. It appeared, superficially, to be hollow, something like a symmetrical cathedral almost the size of a star system. Even stranger, the inner surface showed signs of habitation, with spots that resembled cities and greenery.

“Sweet Celestia,” whispered Lyra, gripping Starlight’s shoulder tightly.

“What is it?”

Lyra pointed, her robotic hand shaking. Starlight looked, and saw a single massive crystal floating between two pylons. It was almost certainly inhabited, its planet-sized facets covered in what was obviously dwellings. Occasionally, it would spark with energy that rapidly darted above its surface and to the spines that protruded above and below it.

“That’s the Imperium,” said Lyra. “The Luna-damned Imperium.”

“Are we supposed to know what that is?” said Jack, annoyed- -but, as Starlight could easily tell, also unnerved by Lyra’s sudden agitation.

“It’s the nexus of the Crystal Galaxy,” said Lyra, watching the approaching crystal without blinking, her orange-irised eye getting wider with every kilometer. “The seat of power of the Dark Princess…this is…this is what I was fighting for. For all those years. All that time. We were trying to take this.”

“Clearly, you never succeeded,” noted Armchair.

“Of course not. Nopony did. Countless millions died in that war, but not a soul ever managed to get this far. Nopony has ever seen it…and come back.”

“Great,” said Starlight. “That’s just great.”

From one of the openings to the rest of the ship, Zedok poked her head into the engine room. “Hey, Star, where the HELL are we? Darien’s freaking out downstairs. Berry put him in a headlock, but neither of them are happy right now…”

“Welcome to the Crystal Empire,” said Lyra, pointing to the screen.

Zedok looked, and her eyes widened. “Whoa.”

“Whoa indeed,” said Armchair.

“It’s kind of pretty. In a freaky, alien sort of way.” She looked to Jack. “Do you feel it? Like…like it’s watching?”

“Yeah,” said Jack. “I think we all do.”

Below, Starlight watched as the Imperium passed. Below, Starlight could see endless crystalline cities on a scale far beyond what she was accustomed to on most planets. At her present speed, detail was difficult to glean, but she saw trees, buildings, and ponies- -thousands and thousands of ponies, almost all of whom were made of crystal.

Eventually the quartet of crystal fighters slowed, and then finally hovered. Starlight slowed herself and allowed herself to be led into a fissure in the crystal below. She kept herself even with the ships as she descended through the crystal, seeing that the upper kilometer of it at least was actually permeated by massive cylindrical caverns, many of which had come to be populated.

Then, eventually, the crystal spacecraft slowed and finally led Starlight to a landing pad. Starlight looked around and realized that there were no ships around her. At all. Still, this was where they wanted her.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“Hell yeah,” said Jack, putting on her helmet. She lifted her fists, and both of them glowed with fiery blue light. “For whatever they can throw at us.”

“No,” said Lyra. “No you’re not.”

“I’m disengaging,” said Starlight. She held her body stiff and activated the shutdown protocols for her projected starship. In less than a second, the plates of tech and biotic energy separated and dissipated, leaving Starlight and the others to fall to the crystal pad below. Starlight slowly floated, pulling the crystal computer out of its casing and installing it into the neckplate of her armor like a necklace. Lyra, Jack, and Zedok all landed on their feet. Armchair descended in an almost catlike manner, landing gracefully- -which was the exact opposite of the way Beri and Darien landed. They both slammed into the crystal with great force.

“Oh, thank the Nine,” said Darien, standing up with Beri still attempting to strangle him. He immediately hugged the ground below. “I do not care what planet this even is. Just…just no more bad upsies…”

Before Starlight could point out that he would inevitably need to leave the same way he came- -and, ideally, as quickly as possible- -a group of ponies emerged from an opening near the edge of the landing pad and walked toward the group.

Starlight’s attention was immediately drawn toward the two ponies on the edges. Their bodies were vaguely equine, but much larger and much less descript. They seemed to be made out of shards of crystal, and they had no clear faces or features of any kind. Starlight opened her omnitool and processed the scans she was receiving and quickly realized that although they looked ominous, the crystal that coated them was actually a secondary device. For one of them, it was almost impossible to tell the crystal pony inside apart from the exoskeleton. The other, however, was a Pegasus pony beneath all of it.

Lyra stiffened, and Starlight stepped forward. As she did, her eyes suddenly fell on the third figure standing between the two immense juggernauts. Starlight had spent so much time studying the two largest threats that she had ignored the tiny figure that appeared to be leading them. As soon as Starlight saw her, she stopped, confused.

“Um…”

The third pony looked up at Starlight. She was tiny and obviously a young filly, and her pale wings were almost comically disproportional to her small, white-coated body. She was dressed in what appeared to be some kind of traditional red and golden armor, obviously scaled down for her diminutive stature. Her expression was hard, but Starlight could not help but feel that it only made her more adorable.

Despite these features, though, Starlight did notice the obvious. Beneith the filly’s bicolored cyan and violet hair was a stubby white horn. She was an alicorn.

Starlight turned to Lyra. “Please tell me that this isn’t Cadence,” she said.

“I am Archgeneral Flurry Heart,” squeaked the filly. “And you are now all officially prisoners of my military.”

“I am a prisoner to no one,” said Lrya, her hands igniting with orange light as she stepped forward. Darien noticed this and reached out, pinching one of her shoulders between his fingers to stop her from attacking. “Let me GO!”

“I would advise you not to approach the Archgeneral,” said the crystal-encased Pegasus. “If you value your own safety.”

“We are here on a diplomatic mission,” said Starlight.

The lids of Flurry Heart’s eyes dropped to half, and she sighed. “And how much of an idiot do you take me for? Do you think I don’t already know that?” She gestured toward the crystal suspended around Starlight’s neck. “It was recorded on your computer. Or, more accurately, OUR computer. My computer, even.”

“Um, hello,” said Zedok, raising her hand. “Um…just how old are you?”

Flurry Heart leaned to the side. “I do not need to answer that question, alien.” She directed her attention back toward Starlight, and Starlight felt the filly’s eyes move toward her Core implants. One of the filly’s eyebrows rose. “A Core?”

“Yes,” said Starlight, proudly. “And a pony equal to all the rest.”

“Not equal to me,” said Flurry Heart. “But nevertheless…if you’re walking around, you’re not Equestrian.”

“No. I was sent by Garrus Vakarian of the Council to investigate a disturbance at the request of one Jade Wing.”

“Wing?” Flurry Heart turned to one of her guards. “Make a note to have him executed on his return.”

“Madame Archgeneral, that punishment- -”

“Is necessary for a pony who would disobey the direct will of the military,” snapped Flurry Heart. She sighed and turned back to Starlight. “And now you’re here…”

“I am,” said Starlight. “Unfortunately, I didn’t get much of a chance to investigate. Your ships intercepted me and my friends.”

“I know. I sent them. Mother would like to speak with you. Directly. Now.”

She turned around and started walking. Starlight looked back to the others, and then started to follow.

“Alone,” snapped Flurry Heart when she noticed that the others were following. “Mother has no need for these…aliens. Or the remnants of a unicorn enemy.”

“Like hell,” said Jack, stepping forward and interrupting whatever it was that Lyra was about to say. She pulled of her helmet, and Starlight thought she saw a flash of fear in Flurry Heart’s face at the sight of a silver-eyed human. “I’m not letting Starlight go in there alone. I don’t care what some overconfident fluffball says about it.”

“We watch each other’s backs,” said Starlight. “I’m fine to go alone, but if Jack wants to come, well…you had better not try to stop her.”

“Hey!” said Beri, pushing past the others. “What the hell? I’m the only one here that actually has ANY Council authority! I’m a goddamn Spectre! You’re not leaving me behind!”

“Do you think I actually care?” said Flurry Heart. She shrugged. “I’m in charge of the military, not the funeral arrangements. I’ll allow your two pets to follow, but be aware that Mother might ruin them.” She looked up to the pair of guards. “Flash, Selenite. Guard the remainder. Don’t let them out of your sight. Especially the unicorn. But ensure that they are well accommodated. Those are Mother’s order.”

“Yes, Archgeneral,” they both said in unison.

Starlight addressed her own comrades as well. “You all. Don’t do anything stupid.” She pointed to Zedok. “And you don’t let Lyra kill anybody.”

“I can’t promise that,” said Zedok. “I would keep her on the ship but…well…”

“Lyra?”

Lyra glared at Starlight, and then at Flurry Heart. “Fine.” She took a deep breath. “The war is over…but if either of you deformed mutants even put ONE HOOF on me, I swear to Anstruther I will start it again! I don’t even care!”

“At least it would give me something to do,” said Flurry Heart. She had already started walking back toward where she had arrived, and her wings were trailing behind her and nearly dragging on the ground. “Now, I really do recommend that you follow me, Core. My Mother does not like to be kept waiting. It’s an ironic trait that we immortals have.”

Starlight looked up at Jack, and Jack nodded. “Follow the arrogant little bitc- -”

“Do you really think it would be wise to insult the ruler’s daughter?” hissed Beri.

“I’m going to have to go with Berry on this one,” said Starlight. “When it comes to diplomacy, I’ve seen krogan rumps that are more sensitive than you are.”

Jack shrugged as she fell into step with Starlight. “Words don’t really mean much. Trust me, Star, it always ends up with someone shooting at someone else. You know that.”

“I do,” said Starlight, darkly.

They were led into the crystalline tunnels of the complex, and Starlight immediately found herself surrounded by blue-white light. There were not any dedicated light fixtures, nor was there anything that even approximated a natural source of light. Instead, the crystals seemed to glow from within. It was breathtaking- -but the unnaturalness of that strange, harsh glow made the glasslike walls seem ominous and threatening.

What was even stranger was how empty the facility seemed to be, and how silent it was. The only sound was that of her and Flurry Heart’s hoofsteps, and the clicking of Jack and Beri’s boots.

Unable to take the silence, Starlight approached Flurry Heart.

“So,” she said. “You are an immortal alicorn. Am I to take it that that is the reason you look so young?”

“No,” said Flurry Heart, her voice taking the most condescending tone possible as though she were talking to an idiot who would not notice. “I look young because I am young. I’m eight.”

“Eight…years?”

“Eight years…no, eight days. Of COURSE I’m eight years old. Of course, as an alicorn, I mature much faster than tiny-winged mortals.”

“Clearly,” said Starlight, her sarcasm lost on the younger pony.

“So I take it your military role is ceremonial?” asked Beri.

Flurry Heart stopped and looked over her shoulder. Her harsh gaze moved up Beri’s body, and then down it. “I’m going to let that one go. Largely because I don’t think I could make a comfortable coat out of you. But if you insult me like that again, I will paint these walls with whatever color your blood is. With your blood.”

“Alright,” said Jack. “Someone has to say it. I just can’t take her seriously. She’s just so friggin adorable.”

“I am adorable,” said Flurry Heart. “I also have enough magical energy to vaporize you without even noticing.

“Do you want to try?” said Jack, charging one of her hands. Flurry Heart instinctively took a step back, her eyes widening. Starlight did not think she had realized that Jack was a biotic.

“Jack,” said Starlight. “Please don’t threaten the military commander.”

Flurry Heart looked up at Starlight and smiled. “See! The Core understands!” They started walking again. “My role is not at all ceremonial. I really am the commander of the Crystal Army. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Mostly. I’ll admit that I can’t…that I accept help from advisors, from time to time. But every single soldier will follow my orders to the letter. All two hundred and six of them.”

“Two hundred and six?” said Beri. “You mean battalions?”

“I mean ponies. That’s how many we have. And I command them all.”

“So you fought a war…with two hundred ponies?” asked Starlight, not understanding.

“Two hundred and six,” corrected Flurry Heart. “And no, of course not. We disbanded the standing army once the war ended. There used to be millions of shock troops…but that was before I was born. Eleven months before I was born, in fact. When the armistice was signed.”

“And the remaining number?”

“Pilots. Like me. Well, pilots and the support staff.”

“I thought Crystal vessels were automated.”

“Not automated. Traditionally, they all follow the will of Mother and draw from her power. That gives them slow reaction time, though, and limited range. Auxiliary commanders overcome those deficiencies.”

Starlight looked to her side at an intersection. The amount of noise had been increasing as they moved deeper into the crystal structure, and she heard a number of hoofsteps approaching from her left. As she watched, as small formation of crystal-encased ponies trotted by in lockstep. Unlike the guards, their armor was smaller and more streamlined with symmetrical arrays of crystals protruding from their backs.

Only one of them was not a crystal pony. He was apparently a unicorn and marched behind the others. Also unlike them, instead of wearing crystal he was dressed in a midnight-blue armored flightsuit that obscured his entire body. As the group passed, he seemed to spy Starlight and stopped, turning his masked face toward her. Starlight stopped as well, staring at him for a long moment.

“Come on, Star,” said Jack.

“Yeah…right.” Starlight turned away, surprised by how difficult it was. She rejoined the others, finding herself much less able to focus on the continuing conversation.

Flurry Heart continued to lead Starlight deeper and deeper into the Imperium. For a time, Starlight was not sure exactly how deep she would have to go- -or just how deep the crystal structure even went. Flurry Heart, however, walked through this alien and bizarre landscape as though it were commonplace for her- -which, Starlight supposed, it was.

Just when Starlight was wondering if they were even going to the right place and not into a trap, the hallway suddenly widened and became both much straighter and much darker.

“This way,” said Flurry Heart.

Starlight followed, with Jack and Berri behind her watching their surroundings carefully. For a substantial distance down the hallway, though, there was nothing to see. Then, from the dimly lit shadows, two figures emerged.

Starlight expected to see another pair of crystal guards, but as she drew closer, she saw that they were something far less pleasant. Like the normal guards, they were pony shaped- -but almost twice the size, or four to five times larger than a normal pony. Their bodies were pure white, but not covered in hair or even crystal. Rather, they seemed to be made out of interlocking plates of some kind of chitinous material, like enormous insects. Fitting with the insect theme, each of them had translucent wings pinned against their backs.

The creatures looked down at Starlight, and she up at them. They did not really have faces; there were no apparent mouths or nose openings, despite their shape. They did have horns, though, but they were multicurvate and strange instead of being neat spirals of bone. The worst feature, though, was their eyes: wide, green, foggy orbs that stared blankly from their sunken sockets like the eyes of some long-forgotten cave creature.

A low, long growl escaped one of the creatures as it stepped forward, its horn charging with green energy. The other followed its twin’s example.

For a moment, Starlight thought that Jack really had been right- -and earlier than expected. As she charged her own horn, though, and as Beri reached for one of her guns, Flurry Heart stepped forward without any hesitation.

“It’s okay, big brother,” she said. “Cadence wants to see them. You can let them through.”

The creatures lowered their heads, and then their growls increased to a high and rapid warbling. It was almost musical, but with its echoes off the crystal walls it sounded grating and grotesque.

“They say we are approved to pass,” said Flurry Heart. “More of a formality than anything. Come.”

Starlight stepped past the creatures. When she was out of earshot- -or might have been; the creatures did not have ears- -she leaned toward Flurry Heart. “Big brothers?”

“My father was a bit of a whore,” admitted Flurry Heart. “Half-brothers, really, but Mother loves them as though they were her own. And their loyalty to her is unparalleled.”

“I think you got shortchanged on the size genes,” muttered Jack, looking back at the insect-ponies.

Flurry Heart either did not hear what Jack said or ignored Jack completely. In fact, from what Starlight had observed, Jack was able to get away with a lot more than Beri. Flurry Heart just did not seem able to meet Jack’s reflective stare.

The hallway eventually led to a sudden, arching hole that opened into an enormous crystal-walled room. The light became even dimmer; whereas in the hallway it was lit by luminescent points at long intervals within the walls, here it seemed to come slowly from everywhere. It shimmered and shifted, casting a pleasant glow that was similar to the way light looked when it passed through water.

Flurry Heart turned to her right and walked to the edge of the opening, where she stopped and stood at attention. “Step forward,” she said to Starlight, “and greet the Eternal Princess of Divine Love.”

Starlight could not help but hesitate, in part because she could not see the contents of the cathedral-like room well and in part because she could feel the energetic hum of an exorbitant amount of biotic power. It felt as though she were standing next to the reactor on a mass relay, except far less clinical and mechanical. This energy was alive.

Not wanting to show any fear, though, Starlight did step forward. Jack did as well, and Beri trailed behind, her hand discretely placed in a position where she could very easily grab her zetan pistol.

As Starlight approached the center of the room and her eyes adjusted, she was able to see the structure that occupied it. A kind of pyramid had been assembled, and at the top was a throne- -and the source of the potent biotic buzz that was filling the air like a swarm of bees.

The Princess, however, was not really what Starlight had been expected. In her mind, she had pictured something grand, powerful, but strange and incomprehensible. Perhaps something large, even.

Instead, Cadence did not appear that much different from a normal pony. She was roughly the same size, although somewhat taller, and her limbs were noticeably much more narrow. Her horn was much longer than that of a normal unicorn, but, strangely, her bicolor wings were quite normal in proportion to her body, much unlike her daughter’s.

Clothing wise, she wore what appeared to be a set of articulated, mechanical-looking armored boots that rose to her mid-thighs. In addition to those, she wore a matching necklace and crown, the latter of which was adorned with a large and strangely asymmetrical blue crystal.

The Princess sat with her hood resting on one hoof. She seemed, more than anything, immensely bored and mildly disgusted by the approaching mortals below her. Despite this, her blood-red irises never once wavered from Starlight.

Two figures stood at the base of the Princess’s throne. One, and the first one that Starlight’s eyes were drawn to, was a tall male unicorn. He was dressed in elaborate robes and narrow golden chains, several of which were linked to a ring set around his long white horn. Starlight had met very few male ponies in her life, but instinctively, she immediately understood that this one was immensely attractive.

Starlight was so fixated with this handsome stallion that she hardly noticed the other figure step forward toward them. As soon as the second being entered her peripheral vision, though, Starlight’s eyes shifted instantly to him, even though after several moments of staring she was not sure how what she was looking at was possible.

Standing before them was a human male. He was tall, and Starlight imagined that in a human sense he was as attractive as the unicorn stallion was to her. His clothing consisted of a vaguely Alliance uniform: black, with red highlights and the designation “N7” emblazoned on one corner of his torso.

While Starlight was trying to figure out what a human was doing in the Crystal Empire, Jack suddenly took a step back.

“N- -no,” she said, her voice wavering. “It- -it can’t be you…”

“Jack?” said Starlight. She had never heard Jack sound like that, and the uncertainty and fear in her voice was terrifying.

“It is me,” said the human, smiling. He reached out his hand, and Jack moved backward again as though he had attempted to strike her. “I’m here. And I’ve missed you….so much…”

Jack reached for her head. Her eyes flitted around the room, looking at everything at once in a panic. “No- -no- -NO! It can’t be you! You’re dead, Shepard, you’re DEAD!”

“But I’m right here.” His expression fell. “I don’t…I don’t understand. Don’t you still love me?”

“IT’S NOT YOU!” screamed Jack. She erupted with an uncontrollable surge of biotic energy. Beri was barely able to jump back, and Starlight encased herself in a shield. The unicorn stallion stepped forward defensively, charging his horn with purple energy.

“Why- -why are you doing this?” said the human, looking as though he was about to cry.

“Because I was on Earth! I was THERE! And you- -you LEFT ME! You went and DIED and left me ALONE!” she lifted her hands, and they dripped with biotic rage. “You can’t- -you can’t be- -you can’t be- -”

“Viceroy,” said Cadence, looking down at the human. “Enough.”

The human looked up at Cadence. “Of course, my Queen.”

His body shifted. There was a surge of green light as his flesh stripped apart, separating from his body and pulling itself back, reconfiguring into something different. In less than a second, a human woman was standing before them, a sinister smile across her face. After several seconds of staring, Starlight suddenly realized that the woman was Jack. Granted, she was at least three decades younger, and had her long, silky hair tied back into a neat ponytail. That, and she was wearing a dress and makeup style that Jack herself would have never even considered.

“What…what are you?” demanded Jack.

“Viceroy Chrysalis is a changeling,” said Cadence, not sounding nearly as bored as she looked. “Her kind are capable of assuming forms at will. Sometimes those drawn from the depths of the mind itself.”

“Your reaction was quite unusual, however,” said Chrysalis, her voice sounding identical to Jack’s. Despite her smile- -which revealed a surprising number of long fangs- -she looked confused, even afraid. “I do not know who that man was, but by all accounts you should have loved him.”

“I did,” said Jack. “And if you ever do that to me again, I will kill you. Hard.”

“I’m not a fan of the new form at all,” said Beri.

Chrysalis looked toward her, and her image shifted again. This time she became a turian, an older male. His skin was almost completely silvered by age, and his expression profoundly stern. One of his arms had been replaced with an geth prosthesis that connected to the armor in his chest with a number of cables.

“Chrysalis,” said Cadence, her voice growing sharper.

Chrysalis converted back into her replica of Jack. “My apologies, my Queen.”

“Who the hell was that?” asked Jack. Beri did not answer, but just stared wide eyed at the Viceroy. Starlight realized that she was shaking.

“Now,” said Cadence, finally taking her head off her hoof and leaning forward. “Let us take this slowly. Do you know who I am?”

“You are Princess Cadence,” said Starlight, remaining as firm and calm as she possibly could.

“That is correct,” said Cadence. “I am the Living Incarnation of the Undying One, King Sombra.”

“You certainly have a lot of titles.”

Cadence smiled. “Indeed I do. Most of them are…droll. Pointless. They change every few centuries, after all. I simply am what I am. Nothing more, and nothing less.” She leaned back into her throne, setting her gold-clad hooves on the armrests. “That said, I really would like to know what exactly you are doing in my territory.”

“We were sent on a mission by Garrus Vakarian of the Galactic Council,” said Beri, stepping forward. Cadence’s eyes shifted toward her and narrowed.

“I did not address you, little one.” Her horn glowed with a pinprick of intense blue light, and Beri was pushed back by a surge of biotic energy. “I addressed Starlight Glimmer.”

“You know my name?” said Starlight.

Cadence nodded. “I know a great many things. More importantly, I know how to find out about new things. A result of millennia of experience. I also know that you were intended as a component of a secretly constructed stealth starship meant to betray my armistice.”

“I assure you, it was not voluntary,” said Starlight, darkly.

“I see,” said Cadence. She smiled. “And I take it that you are no friend of Equestria either.”

“Do you use Cores, Princess?”

The unicorn bristled. “You will address her by her proper- -”

“Shining, my beloved, please,” said Cadence, silencing him with a glance. “The mares are talking.” She redirected her attention at Starlight. “The answer is no. At least not in the sense you are aware of. I do not require such primitive technology to power my fleet.”

Starlight smiled. “Then we are on the same side. That said, the turian is right. I was chosen to deliver a message to you.”

“Whoever sent you has at least a modicum of wisdom. Had they sent one of these aliens alone, I would likely have vaporized them at my borders. What is it you wish to relay, child?”

“One of your pilots crashed into our Citadel. He claimed that an unidentified but immensely powerful object appeared in our galaxy but is rapidly approaching yours. He seemed to believe that it was dangerous. I was asked to investigate.”

Cadence paused. “I see,” she said. She looked down at her consort. “Shining Armor?”

“I did not send him,” he said. “Although I admit that I did contact my sister concerning our deep-space readings.”

“Oh, Shining,” said Cadence, smiling. She turned to Starlight. “You see, this is why he is so dear to me. He grew up knowing that I was his enemy, and yet he cares so deeply for the ponies of my Empire. And for me, and for our daughter. Yes, Starlight Glimmer. We detected this object. We know it is coming.”

“We have determined that it is not a probably threat,” said Chrysalis. “If it is hostile, our defenses are more than adequate to stop a single ship.”

“But we still need to be careful,” said Shining Armor. “Since the long-range sensors lost contact, we have no idea what it actually is or what it could do.”

“It is not a threat,” said Cadence. She stood up, and slowly descended the staircase that led to her throne. Once again, her unblinking eyes did not leave Starlight. `

“Great,” said Beri. “That means our mission is over. I can go back home.”

“It means that our trip was wasted,” said Starlight. Cadence was now level with her on the floor, and she had an overwhelming desire to run. Instead, though, she held her ground.

“I would hardly say that,” said Cadence. “In fact…”

Her horn ignited with blinding blue light. Starlight barely managed to react in time, projecting a shield around herself. Even then, she was thrown backward, her protective biotic bubble tearing a path through the floor.

“Star!” cried Jack, stepping forward- -only to find herself trapped in a sphere of pink-violet energy projected by Shining Armor. Chrysalis, likewise, snapped her fingers, and with a burst of green energy Beri was lifted into the air with a biotic charge.

“This isn’t your fight,” said Shining Armor.

Starlight felt her shield begin to implode around her under the force of Cadence’s magic. As it did, the implants in her brain compensated, and time seemed to slow down as she prepared numerous solutions to every iteration of the problem. As she prepared her omnitools, she had a moment to consider just how strange Cadence’s magic felt. Although few were actually perceptive of the fact, all magic felt slightly different. With Jack, it was unbridled rage; with Zedok, confidence. Starlight had even faced an alicorn before, but Cadence’s biotic energy felt vastly different from that of Twilight Sparkle’s. Twilights was cold, clinical, and precise, purified by the vast array of machinery that the younger alicorn was permanently linked to. Cadence’s magic, however, felt like unrestrained passion. Its flavor and magnitude were both unlike anything Starlight had ever felt.

The shield held long enough for Starlight to absorb Cadence’s blast, but as it fell, she saw that Cadence had already crossed the room. The alicorn’s smiling face was inches away from Starlight’s, and for the first time Starlight could see the sickly green of her sclera and the bluish clouds of biotic energy that seemed to drift from her eyes.

“That would have vaporized most unicorns,” she mused, seeming on the verge of laughter.

“I am not a unicorn,” said Starlight. “I am a Core.”

Without warning, Cadence leaned forward and kissed Starlight on the lips. Starlight felt her eyes widen, but she was so confused that she did not recoil. Cadence tasted strange, like something horribly old.

Then Cadence stepped back. “Ponies like you are always welcome in my Empire. So I’ll make you an offer- -but only one. Stay here. With me, and my people. I would like you to be a pilot in my military. With your potential, you could even surpass the High Exemplar. But of course, you would be free to choose your path. You could live a simple, ordinary life if you prefer. You would be free. What Equestria did to you, it does not matter here.”

“That is not what I want.”

“Do not make your decision too quickly, Starlight Glimmer.” She smiled. “Please, stay. For only a short time. To make your decision. See what the Crystal Empire has to offer, what your life here would be like. Your friends are welcome here as well. As my guests. Even the Questlord.”

Behind Cadence, Jack suddenly extended her arms. The surge of blue light shattered Shining Armor’s bubble, and the feedback caused him to collapse to his knees.

“Shining Armor!” cried Chrysalis, dropping Beri. She rushed to his side.

“Chrysalis,” said Cadence, looking over her shoulder. Chrysalis stopped just feet from Shining Armor, recoiling at the Princess’s gaze.

“I’m- -I’m sorry, my Queen, I didn’t mean to- -”

“You will accompany them. Be their aid as you are mine.”

“My Queen?”

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

“No. Of course not.” Chrysalis quickly regained her composure and smiled. She had not forgone Jack’s appearance, but her teeth now looked mostly normal. She approached Jack and Beri. “Sorry about that. If you two would come with me, I can- -”

“Like hell!” said Jack. “I should punch so hard- -”

“Jack,” said Starlight. “We’re not doing anything anyway. I already know that I’m not going to take her offer, but we can at least stay a few days. Get some food, see if they have parts.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Cadence, helping her consort up and then climbing back up to her throne. When she reached the top, she sat back down. “I’ll be awaiting your decision.”

Chapter 12: Lost Ship

Nopony spoke. All eyes were directed out the thin, dirty window. Even Sassaflash had picked her head up from her control panel and interrupted her nap to see the vessel below.

Scootaloo leaned back in her chair, but like the others, she found herself unable to look away. Before them was an unimaginably large ship. Its surface was bizarre and convoluted, as though it were nearly organic, spreading over itself in a system of gnarled metal roots that eventually formed something in roughly the shape of a ship. It bore no running lights, marks, or insignias of any kind. The only source of light that came from its surface were strange, curving lines of orange light that seemed to designated components of whatever alien engine it utilized.

Surrounding it was a formation of numerous smaller vessels that were almost the complete opposite. They were geometric and angular, and from what Scootaloo could tell, they were asymmetric octahedrons. Strangely, they had no distinct color; depending on the angle that they were viewed, they seemed to be either pure black or dull, pale gray. Wintrygust’s readings indicated that each of those smaller ships exceeded one kilometer in length, but they were dwarfed by the mothership that they surrounded.

“Sassaflash,” said Scootaloo, looking at her own readings of the Failure’s engine performance in disbelief. “How fast are we moving?”

“I don’t…I don’t know.” She did not say it out of laziness, as per her usual personality; instead, she seemed legitimately concerned by the fact that it was impossible to know.

“It seems to be projecting some kind of field,” said Wintrygust. “I’ve never seen anything like it. But…based on triangulation of nearby galaxies…we’re exceeding any known record speed by several hundred million times. At this rate, we will enter the Crystal Galaxy in less than three days.”

Blossomforth looked away from the screen, swiveling on the auxiliary station chair. “Your math is wrong. That’s impossible.”

“It is not incorrect,” maintained Wintrygust. “You can confirm yourself.”

“You don’t have to,” said Scootaloo. “I trust Wintry on this.”

“But that’s impossible, and you know it. We would be torn apart at those speeds.”

“Not at our current range. We’re at c lose enough proximity that we’re being pulled along too. It’s like being in orbit around a planet.”

“Then why haven’t they seen us?” said Scootaloo.

“I’m not detecting any life-signs. At least not any that the system can interpret as living. It’s possible that it is automated. Or perhaps generating the field impedes their sensors. Or the fact that we teleported directly into it makes us difficult to detect. At this point, I can only hypothesize.”

“Then close your mouth and do your job,” said Blossomforth.

“Why don’t you do yours?”

“Oh wow!” said a surprisingly overjoyed voice as Lemon Heart entered the already crowded bridge. “Isn’t she a big one! A real fatty! And plot-ugly!”

“Heart,” said Scootaloo. “Finally. What’s your take on this?”

“Well, let’s have a look.” Heart’s horn glowed, projecting a lavender interface in front of her head and linking it into Trixie’s subsystems. Scootaloo and her crew waited patiently while Heart reviewed the data. All the while, Scootaloo was running through the designs of various ships in her mind, trying and failing to place this particular vessel’s configuration into any category. Despite her largely disgraced status, Scootaloo had at one time excelled in the Equestrian Space-Naval Academy. In her attempts to impress Rainbow Dash, she had committed a great deal of information to memory, including the schematics of hundreds of makes and models of starships. That included all classes of ships in the Royal Navy, as well as commercial and private types of crafts and enemy vessels. None of them seemed to match. The closest she could think of was some sort of Chaos vessel. The only difference was that starships used by the Chaos Wizards tended to either be constructed to look as imposing as possible or out of mismatched components with an ironic flair. This one, though, did not appear to have been designed with any rational intention. It just seemed to have grown from layers and layers of plating and machinery. It seemed to have no concern for appearance or logical engineering, and it was in this aspect that it was somehow far more terrifying than anything that even the most depraved Chaos Wizards could conceive.

“Well, it’s about as convoluted as you could expect,” said Heart after what seemed like an eternity. “But nothing I can’t handle.” She paused and raised one eyebrow. “Hmm…that’s weird.”

“Weird? What’s weird?” asked Scootaloo. that was not the news she had been hoping for.

“I’m getting a Core signal from it.”

Scootaloo’s froze, and she suddenly felt cold. On some level, she had expected that this thing was alien- -it HAD to be alien, after all. None of the alien vessels she had ever seen matched this description, but as it turned out, the universe was a big place. None of the aliens used Cores, though. This ship was Equestrian.

“So,” she said, projecting an exterior of absolute calm. “That means it’s Chaos, then.”

“No…I don’t think so,” said Heart, sounding oddly intrigued.

The entire crew looked at her. “What?” demanded Scootaloo. “What else could it be?”

“I don’t know. Yet. The signal is buried pretty deep. There’s a lot of interfeirance and…something else.”

“Something else?”

“Minor severe corruption. Nothing to worry about. It happens. But what I can tell you- -” she gestured toward the fleet of objects surrounding the main ship “- -is that those things have FTL capacity.”

“So they have Cores too,” said Blossomforth.

“No. Don’t be a stooge. I said I saw ONE Core. Not several.”

“But you just said- -”

“Cores aren’t necessary for faster-than-light travel,” said Scootaloo. “The Citadel aliens don’t even use them at all.”

“But we were told- -”

“They lied to you, Blossom,” said Scootaloo.

“It’s not a lie, per se,” said Heart. “More of an omission. Of course, though not required, Cores are vastly preferred over primitive technology. The aliens are basically banging rocks together. We are vastly more civilized.”

Scootaloo had no idea if Lemon Heart was being sarcastic. Heart simled, as though she had told a joke. Then, suddenly, her eyes widened. She froze, and Scootaloo knew that something was terribly wrong.

“No,” said Heart. “That’s not…”

With a sudden surge of motion, she stepped to the side and threw Sassaflash off her chair.

“Hey!” whined the Pegasus, flopping off her chair without any resistance whatsoever. “That’s where I sit!”

Heart ignored her. Scootaloo thought for a moment that the doctor was attempting to take control of the helm- -something she just might be insane enough to do- -but instead she accessed the internal functions of the control interface itself and expanded it vastly, generating numerous projected panels of blue and violet light. She immediately diverted powers to the sensors and to core processing.

“Hey,” said Scootaloo. “Be careful! We barely have enough power as it is, and shifting it too quickly is bad for Trixie. You should at least ask first, Heart.”

Heart ignored Scootaloo and entered information madly into the computer.

“Heart?” said Scootaloo, stepping down out of her chair.

“It can’t be,” Heart said. “It just can’t…”

“Heart?” repeated Scootaloo. Then, hesitantly, “Lemon?”

Lemon Heart desperately hated her first name. To her, is was a reminder of the fact that she was the only one of sixteen sisters who had not been born an all-white unicorn. When Blossomforth had once accidentally used the name “Lemon”, Heart had very nearly unwinged her. Now, though, Heart barely seemed to notice, only muttering a barely audible complaint.

Then, suddenly, Heart stood and galloped out of the room. Scootaloo watched her go, and then turned back to the remaining screen that she had left open. From what Scootaloo could tell, Heart had processed the Core signal enough to run it through an ID search- -and actually gotten a result. The resulting file was marked as classified, and when Scootaloo saw the name of the search result, her eyes widened. She suddenly understood why Heart had acted so strangely. The name written across the screen was “Crimson Horizon”.

“Wintrygust,” said Scootaloo. “I’m going after her. Keep an eye on that ship. Sassaflash- -” Scootaloo looked down to see the extremely brightly colored pony snoring on the floor. “Just…keep doing that. Don’t move us, and don’t engage.”

Scootaloo quickly followed Lemon Heart out of the bridge. She was not hard to find; despite its size, the Failure had a relatively simple design. That, and it was possible to follow the mildly depraved mutterings.

“Heart!” called Scootaloo when she finally saw the unicorn pony trying to open a jammed door to the main stairwell. “Heart, get back here!”

“Celestia condemn it to Tartarus!” cried Heart. “She knew- -that alicorn Core-witch knew, she KNEW!”

“LEMON HEART!” shouted Scootaloo. “Calm the buck down!”

“Don’t call me LEMON!” screamed Heart. “I’M NOT A LEMON! I’m a good unicorn!”

“Well you’re not acting like it!” Scootaloo pointed behind her. “I saw those results. Where you just expecting to sweep that under the rug?”

“No, no,” said Heart, catching her breath. “I don’t…I…” Her eyes suddenly flicked toward Scootaloo and narrowed. “Wait a minute…you KNOW.”

“Of course I know. I’m Rainbow Dash’s sister.”

“How much?”

“Excuse me?”

“How much do you know? About the Crimson Horizon?”

“I know that officially it doesn’t exist. Twenty four years ago, there was an explosion in one of the outer systems. Three inhabited planets were destroyed without a trace, completely vaporized. Over six hundred million colonists were lost. Officially, the public was told that it was an attack by the Crystal Empire. In reality, it was the worst naval disaster in recorded history. The prototype starship ‘Crimson Horizon’ had lost Core containment and detonated, taking out an entire system with it.”

“Then you understand my reaction. The Crimson Horizon was destroyed. Completely and totally. Core, crew, everything. I barely managed to survive.”

“You- -you were there?”

“Of course I was there! I helped build it!”

“You…what?”

“I was the head engineer on the Core design team, partnered with Sunset Shimmer, one of Celestia’s own students. I spent decades building that ship, and years reviewing what happened to it.”

“And what, exactly, happened?”

“It’s too complicated for a Pegasus to understand.”

“Try me.”

Heart sighed. “The Crimson Horizon wasn’t built like a normal ship. Everything was novel. The cutting edge of technology, an entirely new class of starship. Even the Core was different- -”

“Different? How so?”

“Well…as you know, most Cores are harvested between the age of one month and six years.”

“You mean foalnapped.”

“Semantics. Sunset Shimmer was different. Sunset Shimmer was already an adult when I conducted the conversion procedure.”

“An adult?” Scootaloo’s stomach turned. “You mean she chose to become a Core?”

“Yes. And can you blame her? The Crimson Horizon was essentially a prototype for the Harmony. And you’ve met Twilight Sparkle.”

“So Sunset Shimmer was an alicorn?”

“No, of course not. She was just an absurdly powerful mage. Which is likely why the system failed.”

“She couldn’t handle the power. I’ve read about Core detonations. A pony with the capacity of Twilight Sparkle…but an entire system?”

“Her mind desynchronized from the external systems. A normal pony just can’t keep up with something that large, they’re not fast enough. The resulting feedback…it killed her. The Crimson Horizon was a failure. A massive one. One we overcame with the Harmony and the Equalizer before the latter was destroyed. It’s a piece of unfortunate, buried history that should have stayed that way.”

“And yet, somehow, it’s floating outside my ship,” said Scootaloo. “On a collision course to the Crystal Galaxy. Care to explain that, Dr. Heart?”

“I don’t- -I don’t know!” Heart looked genuinely panicked. Then an idea seemed to cross her mind.

“What is it?”

“There are some theories. On the fringe of a very rarified field, mind you, but…”

“But what?”

Heart took a breath. “Some have theorized that the implosion was not a Core detonation, but rather the formation of a singularity as a result of a teleportation spell.”

“But you don’t seem to think that’s the case.”

“No. Of course not. The ability to teleport is absurdly rare. The only non-alicorn known that was able to do so was Starswirl the Bearded. I knew Sunset Shimmer, and despite her ability, she could not teleport. Nor was the Crimson Horizon equipped to managed the calculations for such a feat.”

“And what would happen if she had teleported?”

“Don’t be thick. She couldn’t. I mean, not completely. In theory, yes, she could have started a teleport, but there would have been no output coordinates. It would only be half complete.”

Scootaloo shivered. “And if that did happen…can that even happen? Where did she go?”

“I don’t know. If such a thing did occur…then nowhere. She would have teleported away and just never come back.”

“Heart,” said Scootaloo. “I’m sorry for calling you ‘Lemon’. But you need to answer me clearly, and absolutely honestly right now. Do you understand?” Heart nodded. “That ship. Is it really the Crimson Horizon?”

Heart paused for a long moment, and then answered. “Yes, in a sense. It didn’t look like that before, but I built that Core. I recognize it. Better than any pony could. It is her. That is Sunset Shimmer.”

“Good,” said Scootaloo.

“Good? Scootaloo, I just told you something that is completely impossible. How is that good?”

“Because now that we know, we can move on from here.” Scootaloo shivered, and turned toward one of the walls. Something had suddenly felt strange in a way that she could not fully describe. Ignoring it, she turned back to Heart.

“What do we need to do next?”

“You’re not going to like it, but we’re going to need to go down there.”

In the ship below, Xyuka’s optics twisted and focused, amplifying and processing the image before her to accommodate her slight head motions and the hulls of the two ships between her and her target.. She watched as a small, winged Pegasus pony spoke to a unicorn, neither one of them aware that they were being watched.

“Sunset Shimmer,” she said, not taking her eyes off the pair. “There appears to be a spacecraft in our driver envelope. And it’s not one of mine.”

Sunset Shimmer sat behind Xyuka, perched and reclining on a large piece of equipment that was half-embedded into the juncture between the deck and the housing of one of the main plasma centrifuges. She appeared bored, with her left arm splayed open with orange light to reveal the bones, muscles and tendons.

With one swift motion, Sunset pulled the excised bones back into her arm, instantly repairing it. She made a fist and examined it for signs of scarring, and, deeming it adequate, addressed the pony below her. “I am aware of this,” she said. “I detected their teleportation signature before they had even materialized. You need to remember, Xyuka, as powerful as your technology is, my magic is FAR stronger.”

“Of course, Soy-chet.”

Sunset frowned. “I don’t know why you use that name. What does it even mean?”

“That is not relevant,” said Xyuka. “But now that we have reached a consensus concerning the pursuer, what is your recommended course of action? Should I destroy it?”

“If I had wanted it destroyed, I would have obliterated it already,” said Sunset, as though it should have been obvious. “I just see no point in doing so. What could one ship do to impede me?”

“They could warn the Equestrians, for one.”

“Let them. Let Equestria know what is coming to it.” Sunset slid down from where she was sitting, the articulating cables in her back lowering her gently to the uneven ground below. “They are insignificant to me. Don’t bother with them. Instead, focus on the task at hand.”

Sunset began walking away down the long, unlit hall. The cables from her back reacted, sequentially pulling themselves from their ports and moving forward to new locations, walking forward to ensure that she remained connected to the ship at all times. “If anything develops, I will handle it. I bothered to pull you out of the void for a reason, and bothering with pointless spacecraft is not it.”

When Sunset was out of range, Xyuka looked up once more. Her optics focused even more narrowly, reducing the bluish rendering of the distant ship down to a small circle around a single pony. She watched as Scootaloo shivered and turned toward her, as if she knew that she somehow knew that she was being watched.

“Yes, Lady Sunset,” said Xyuka, softly.

Scootaloo adjusted her landing suit, ensuring that all the plates were in the appropriate locations. Unlike her Priestess uniform, this was a piece of equipment that she was all-too familiar with. The armor had a familiar feel to it, one that she recalled fondly from numerous training exercises and a trip to the Omega station years ago. It had, of course, been sized up since she had been a young filly; now she fit into the smallest standard size for mares. The only main problem was that the wing slots had to be tailored to accommodate Scootaloo’s diminutive wings. Essentially, they had given her earth-pony armor with two small holes cut into it. It was actually far heavier than normal Pegasus armor, but Scootaloo did not mind. It was not as though she could fly anyway.

Wintrygust approached from the locker room, carrying a rack of several luminescent storage coils on her back, all of which were glowing brightly with Trixie’s compressed magic. Wintrygust was wearing a similar set of landing armor to Scootaloo. Breeders were not technically allowed to wear naval uniforms or landing armor. The landing suit that Scootaloo had been provided for Wintrygust was white and distinct, but had virtually no armor plating. That was because breeder Pegasi had been selectively bred for centuries for docility, and it was generally assumed that they never served as combat units or would be placed in dangerous situations- -or that if they were, they were cheap enough to replace. As such, Scootaloo had elected to dress Wintrygust in armor that had originally been intended for Blossomforth. The two were almost exactly identical in proportion and size, so the armor fit Wintry nicely.

“Thanks, Wintry,” said Scootaloo as her friend set the rack on the ground. Scootaloo removed one of the narrow coils and inserted it into a slot in her armor. The armor’s internal systems activated, including several projection weapons on the sides that would normally lie beneath her wings.

“Dr. Heart?” said Wintrygust, offering the coils to Heart, who was dressed in her own privately produced exosuit.

“So polite,” said Heart, smiling. “But I already have magic. And this.” She raised a long, heavy object in her magic.

“Um…what is that?” asked Scootaloo.

“This is a hunting rifle,” said Heart, her eyes wide as she admired her weapon. “I haven’t been legally allowed to use it in centuries…” She produced a large magazine from her pocket, and Scootaloo could see the edges of the enormous, square-shaped steel slugs that it contained. “Except for hunting Tartarans. That’s still legal, but they just don’t cry the same way as earth ponies.”

“Blossomforth’s analysis says that there’s nothing living down there,” said Scootaloo. “I don’t think you’ll need that.”

“But what if there are earth ponies? I think Strawberry needs a mate.”

Scootaloo did not want to argue. She picked up her helmet and pushed her hair already short hair back. As she did, the door to the pre-airlock locker room opened and a white pony stepped in.

“Blossomforth,” chastised Scootaloo, “what did I tell you about leaving Sassaflash alone on the bridge?”

“She’s unconscious, as usual,” said Blossomforth. “And I’ve locked the controls on auto.”

“Then why are you down here? I need you on the bridge.”

Blossomforth looked at Wintry and pointed. “Is the breeder wearing my armor?”

“Technically, it is all MY armor,” said Scootaloo. “And I determine who uses what resources.”

“With all due respect, Captain, the number of regulations you’re breaking- -”

“Naval regulations,” said Scootaloo. “And in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been court-martialed. Regulations no longer apply to me.”

“Way to pull the Priestess card,” noted Heart.

“I have no idea what we’ll find down there,” said Scootaloo. “I need Wintry to be protected.”

“That’s what I came to speak to you about, Captain. I don’t think you should take her.”

“Excuse me?”

Blossomforth stiffened, if only to suppress her obvious annoyance. “You said it yourself. You have no idea what you’ll find there. I understand taking Dr. Heart, considering her expertise in this matter- -but the breeder is pointless. She is not able to fight. You should take me instead.”

“Your enthusiasm is noted,” said Scootaloo. “But no. You will stay here.”

“But Captain- -”

“Wintry?”

“Yes, Scootaloo?”

“The square root of seven hundred thousand three hundred and sixty three.”

“That would be eight hundred and sixty three, and twenty two twenty fifths, rounding,” she replied without any pause or hesitation.

Blossomforth’s eyes widened. “How did you- -”

“All breeders can do that,” said Wintry, a mischievous smile crossing her face. “We tend to be good at math.”

“But you’re just a breeder!”

“And I cost more than this ship did. Ponies are not willing to pay for a product with inferior intelligence.”

“Granted, I could probably buy most of this ship with change I find in my couch,” said Heart. “Of course, I am terribly rich. What with the being a unicorn and all. And I haven’t cleaned my couch in seven decades.”

“I don’t intend to be going into a fight,” said Scootaloo, ignoring Heart’s ramblings. “And if we do, I’ll take point. The goal is to find out what that ship is, and why it has the Crimson Horizon’s Core. Wintry is an expert in system’s design and control architecture, and Heart is an expert in Cores. You are not.” Scootaloo paused, and then sighed. “I don’t mean that as an insult, Blossomforth. I know this ship isn’t much, but it still counts as command experience. And you need that if you’re going to get promoted up.”

“Captain, I’m going to say it. You can’t trust a breeder.”

“I trust Wintry with my life.”

“And a lot more, apparently. The walls on this ship are pretty thin.”

“What Wintry and I do off duty is none of your business. Now, are you going to get back to the bridge, or am I going to have to give the captain’s seat to Sassaflash?”

“I think I’d rather have the clingon in charge than the narcoleptic,” muttered Heart.

“Can you do that, Blossomforth?”

Blossomforth hesitated, but then stood at attention. “Yes, Captain.

“Good.” Scootaloo slipped her helmet on and connected it to her suit. Wintrygust did the same, putting her own helmet around her hair, which had been carefully braided for the occasion. Heart’s extended from the neck of her armor, unfolding and assembling itself around her head.

“Right,” said Scootaloo. She stepped into the edge of the Failure’s main airlock. “Let’s get this over with.”

Wintry and Heart followed her in, and the door closed. Through the thick window to the inside, Scootaloo saw Blossomforth salute before existing on the other side of the room on her way to the bridge.

“I can’t believe you coddle her like that,” said Heart. “If a unicorn under my command talked to me like that, I would mutilate her face. And I don’t even have a weird breeder fetish.”

“It’s not a fetish,” said Wintry, defensively. “And I’m used to insults. I can handle myself, and Scootaloo knows that.”

“Yeah,” said Scootaloo. In fact, she had wanted to punch Blossomforth in the face. She probably could have and still gotten away with it, but she needed things to run smoothly. Abusing her subordinates was no way to run a ship, especially when those subordinates were in charge of ensuring that the ship stayed within evacuation range while they were away.

Scootaloo checked the gauge on the outer wall of the airlock, and then opened the external door. There was no need to compress out the atmosphere; the umbilical was already pre-charged with air.

When the door opened, Scootaloo jumped forward, releasing herself from the artificial gravity produced by Trixie’s magic. She floated into the transparent umbilical, and looked out over the gnarled, spiny mass of the Crimson Horizon’s surface. Above, she saw the octahedral objects, seemingly pinned to their locations, reflecting the orange light from some parts of the Crimson Horizon’s surface. Beyond them was a dark and strange sky, the sort that was only visible from the dark, empty space that separated galaxies.

Scootaloo passed through the umbilical connector easily, guiding herself along one of the projected rails. She had been in the top of her class when it came to zero-gravity motion and manipulation. It was largely because it was the only time when she could ever come close to flying.

After several seconds, she felt her hooves land on the metal door below. Despite the ship’s appearance, after several hours of searching Dr. Heart had been able to identify several sections that consisted of badly damaged pieces of the original Crimson Horizon. One of those pieces had contained a universal docking port.

“So much for being vaporized,” said Scootaloo. “Heart, can you open it?”

“It should use a magic-based lock, so yes. I can hack it.” Heart moved into position and leaned over the control pad. The door instantly opened.

“That was fast,” said Wintrygust.

“I…I just used my docking passcode. As a joke. I didn’t think it would actually…” she took a deep breath. “It really is the Crimson Horizon, isn’t it?”

“What was your first clue?” Scootaloo pushed through the circular opening and immediately felt herself connect to the floor under new artificial gravity. Unlike the gravity that Trixie was able to produce, this new gravity was totally consistent. Scootaloo had not stood on a real planet in years, but she instantly remembered what it felt like.

Wintrygust and Heart followed her, with Wintrygust activating a light. The ship did not apparently have working lights, and once it was illuminated, Scootaloo could see why.

“Sweet Satin,” whispered Heart.

The inside of the ship did not seem to consist of any sort of logical structure. They had entered into an enormous hallway or corridor, but it was not engineered or designed as one would be in any sort of ship. Rather, they had entered through a thin spot in the wall into what otherwise looked like a cave. The high walls were curved and complicated, built out of metal and organic-looking residue, and the floor was uneven, responding more to the root-like nature of the walls than to any need for a pony to walk.

Scootaloo noticed that some parts of their organic-looking surroundings seemed to be glowing with reddish-orange energy, and that something in the shadows retracted into the walls when Wintry’s light passed over it.

“There’s definitely an atmosphere,” said Heart. “I was right about that.”

“It feels warm,” said Wintry. “And very damp. Is it breathable?”

“Eh…no. It’s not toxic and the pressure’s mostly reasonable, but there’s very little oxygen. I’ll lick my own horn if there’s a sentient being that can breathe air like this.”

“Good to know,” said Scootaloo. She continued to look around. “I’m guessing it didn’t look like this when you were here, Heart?”

“Even I am not this crazy,” replied Heart. “I don’t know what any of this is.”

“It almost looks…organic,” said Wintry, poking one of the walls.

“From what I’m seeing? A lot of it is. It’s just plain freakish.”

“Which way to the Core?” asked Scootaloo.

“That way,” said Heart, pointing. “Energy in any Equestrian ship always flows outward from the Core. We just need to follow it back. Of course, the Core isn’t what we should be looking for. An interface terminal would be better.”

“I don’t know if we’ll find one in this mess,” said Scootaloo, looking up at the dripping ceiling. “But keep your eyes out.”

They walked deeper and deeper into the ship, following the path as best as they could. It was not always easy; the corridors and internal cavities were like some kind of hive, and they appeared to be designed without any intention for ponies to be able to move from place to place easily. In fact, as they walked, Scootaloo became increasingly disturbed by the utter lack of a crew. A ship this large should have required a crew of hundreds or even thousands. Even if there was only a tiny skeleton crew, they should have appeared to confront three obvious interlopers. Instead, it appeared completely empty.

The path was complex and convoluted, and Scootaloo quickly lost track of the way back as they passed through what seemed like miles of space.

“Wintry,” she said. “Are you getting this?”

“Yes,” said Wintrygust. “I have committed the schematic of the ship we have encountered so far to memory. Don’t worry, Captain. I will make sure we can get out safely.”

“Good,” said Scootaloo. She opened a channel to the ship. The signal was badly distorted by the amount of magically-charged substance between her and the Failure, but Blossomforth’s voice still managed to come through.

“Captain?” she said.

“Situation report,” said Scootaloo.

“Aside from Sassa drooling, nothing, Captain. The outer ships are maintaining their distance, and the there is no reaction from below. Captain, I think this might be a ghost ship.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” said Scootaloo. “We’re on our way to the Core. Keep scanning your surroundings. This could go south real fast.”

“Roger,” said Blossomforth as Scootaloo suspended the link. Scootaloo turned to look over her shoulder at Lemon Heart, who had projected a violet interface that she was apparently hard at work on. “I guess I’m going to have to be the one to address the elephant in the room.”

“I do like elephants,” said Heart. “Really all big game.”

“You mean who built this,” said Wintry. “This ship.”

“Yeah,” said Scootaloo, suddenly getting a very bad feeling. Like she was being watched closely by something she could not see.

“There are hundreds of corporations and factions in Equestria and the Crystal Empire,” said Heart, trying to dismiss the question. “As well as the Council aliens.”

“But you said the Crimson Horizon’s Core was unique. How many of those factions would know how to use her to power a ship?”

Heart looked up from her interface. “None. None would.”

“Then it has to be the Royal Navy,” suggested Wintry. “They’re known for building all manner of dubious contraptions for when the war goes hot again.”

“Without me?” said Heart. “That doesn’t make any sense. Even with the unpopularity of my ideas, there is literally no Core like her. They would have consulted me even if they had found a single fragment of the Crimson Horizon, but they never did. Until now.”

Scootaloo shivered. She understood the implications of that last statement, and knew that she was missing a substantial amount of critical information. Twilight had insisted on taking Lemon Heart- -because, in all likelihood, she had already known the identity of this ship, or at least suspected it. Someone higher in the Equestrian hierarchy knew something that they were not letting on.

Part of Heart’s interface shifted. She looked down at it. “I’m detecting movement.”

“That’s strange,” said Wintry. “My systems are not detecting life-signs.”

“I’m not getting life-signs,” said Heart. “I’m getting movement.” She pointed down a long curving hallway, and Wintrygust followed with her light. Scootaloo looked- -to see a pair of reflective eyes staring back at them.

Both the group and the creature froze at the sight of each other. Scootaloo was not sure how the others felt, but adrenaline rushed through her own tiny body. She wanted to run, and yet, somehow, she found herself virtually attached to the ground, her conscious mind desperately trying to rationalize what she was seeing.

It was a pony. Or at least, it seemed to have been one at some point. Its body had seemingly been twisted and stretched, and its front set of legs had been replaced with what seemed to be a pair of scythe-like appendages. Its coat had largely fallen out, revealing numerous surgical scars where it had been stitched together. Part of it also appeared to be metal, with ragged implants protruding from its spine and running down its sides and penetrating large, bloodless holes through its stretched skin and into its bony, narrow body.

The worst feature by far, though, was its eyes. Not only were they reflective, but somehow, in the dim light, they managed to look both dead and profoundly alive, scanning the intruders as they observed it.

Then, with a sudden surge of motion, it compressed its body against the ground and scuttled away down a narrow intersection between two walls.

“Heart…what was that?” demanded Scootaloo, hearing her voice crack.

“I don’t- -I don’t know,” squeaked Heart. Then, suddenly, she broke out into manic laughter that sounded just as joyous as it sounded terrified. She unclipped her hunting rifle from her side, lifting it in her magic.

“Those implants,” said Wintry. “Scootaloo, did you see them?”

Scootaloo nodded, but she did not want to entertain the thought of what they meant.

“I know exactly which wall I want to hang it on,” said Heart, racing forward.

“Heart! Stop!” cried Scootaloo, chasing after the unicorn. Heart did not slow down until she reached the hallway where she had seen the creature go down. As soon as she reached it, she shined the light at the end of her rifle into the darkness- -and froze.

“Heart! I don’t care if you’re not navy, you need to LISTEN!” hissed Scootaloo. “We don’t know what that thing was, or if…if…if…”

She had looked up to where Heart had been shining her light, and saw countless hundreds of reflective eyes staring back at her from the walls and ceiling of the narrow hall.

“Well buck me in the plot and call me Fluttershy,” said Heart, her voice wavering. She turned to Scootaloo. “Sorry, Priestess. I think I just screwed us.”

There was suddenly a rush of motion and the sound of metal-like limbs clicking across the hull. The eyes raced forward, the mouths of their owners open in silent screams.

“MOVE!” cried Scootaloo. She pushed back against Wintrygust. “MOVE!”

They started to run as the creatures swarmed out from the crevice.

“No you don’t!” screamed Heart, pointing her rifle at the nearest of them as it reached toward her. There was a resounding explosion that echoed throughout the ship, and a surge of magical light. The creature had been rearing at the time, and a square slug tore through its midsection, severing the lower half of its body in a plume of silver fluid. It looked down, confused, and then began to rapidly pull its torso toward Heart in complete ignorance of its injury.

“Oh buck, oh buck!” squealed Heart, running to catch up with Scootaloo and Wintrygust. “NOPE NOPE NOPE!”

There were several more shots as Heart fired wildly into the crowd. From what Scootaloo could tell, Heart was actually profoundly accurate, striking heads and hearts and legs, producing wounds that would have been lethal to any rational being. These creatures, however, were either armored enough to withstand the impacts or simply seemed to ignore what should have been lethal injuries.

“Sweet Celestia, what are these things made of!” she screamed.

A group of them appeared suddenly out of one of the hallways, blocking the path and reaching silently toward Wintrygust. Scootaloo, seeing this, dug her heels into the ground and opened fire. Several blue beams shot through the air, striking the creatures and tearing through their flesh. Their silver blood poured onto the floor, and they were driven back, even if only for a moment.

“Left! Go left!”

Wintry shifted suddenly, galloping in the direction she was ordered. Scootaloo and Heart followed, with Heart slamming several more slugs into the nearest of the creatures.

“We’re off the path!” cried Heart as she reloaded. “Scootaloo, we’re off the path!”

“I know, I know!” said Wintry. Her voice was oddly calm; although Scootaloo could tell she was terrified, she kept a surprisingly level head. “I’m recalculating! I can do this!”

“Heart!” said Scootaloo, struggling to keep up with the two taller ponies. “Start scanning!”

“For what?!”

“The walls! Find something mechanical, anything, and SHOOT IT!”

Heart immediately opened her interface and started scanning, all while seeming to blubber and occasionally breaking into laughter.

“Come on, Lemon, I thought you used to hunt Tartarans!”

“Yes, from a BLIND! At LONG RANGE!” Heart suddenly skidded to a stop. “THERE!” she cried.

Scootaloo did not get a chance to ask her what she had found. Heart raised her rifle and unloaded several shots into a nearby protruding piece of machinery. There was a rushing sound as air sept into it, and then an enormous detonation of orange magic. Heart immediately projected a protective bubble around Scootaloo and Wintrygust, and the three of them were driven backward by the blast until they slammed hard into a wall and the shield spell shattered.

Heart groaned. “I wasn’t expecting that…”

“No time to rest,” said Scootaloo, picking up the unicorn. “Come on! I think you slowed them down, but we have to get out of here. Blossomforth!”

“Yes, Captain?”

“We have a code red! Prep the ship for immediate departure!”

“Captain- -”

One of the creatures leapt through downward from the ceiling. Its body had been badly melted in the blast, and many of its partially metal bones had been exposed. Wintrygust opened fire, unloading magical bolts from the dispersion systems beneath her wings. The creature was torn apart, and collapsed onto the ground.

“We need to move,” she said.

They did, and Scootaloo looked back to see several of the creature’s comrades picking up its remains and fusing its parts back onto their own broken bodies- -all the while, watching with their dead, unblinking eyes.

Scootaloo continued to run, with Wintrygust doing her best to lead them back to their ship. Even though she was in relatively good physical condition, Scootaloo had spent the last several years of her life surveying asteroids and garbage heaps. She was not in as good of shape as she once had been, and she could feel herself beginning to slow.

Then, suddenly, Wintry skidded to a stop. She looked up, to where a wide cylindrical shaft projected upward.

“This is it,” she said. “This leads back almost to the ship!”

“Are you sure?” said Scootaloo.

“Yes! I’m sure! This is the fastest way. It- -” Wintry stopped suddenly, and looked at Scootaloo.

Heart looked up. “For Luna’s sake, of COURSE I would get stuck in the one possible situation where being a Pegasus would actually be a benefit!”

“How much can you carry?” said Scootaloo, looking at Wintrygust.

“Not a lot. I can’t carry both of you.”

“Both of- -what is she talking about?” said Heart. “Scootaloo, why would she have to carry both of us? You’re both Pegasi!”

“I can’t fly,” said Scootaloo.

“You WHAT?”

“Wintry, take Heart. Get her back to the ship.”

“Scootaloo, I can’t! I can’t leave you here!”

“I’ll find another way! Just go!”

“No, I can’t- -”

“That is an ORDER! Take Dr. Heart, and get OUT OF HERE!”

Wintrygust stepped back, surprised by Scootaloo’s suddenly raised voice. Then she nodded. “I’ll come back for you. I won’t leave you here, I promise.”

Wintry spread her long, white wings and lifted herself into the air. She grabbed Heart under her forelegs and, with a great deal of effort, the two of them rose into the air. Scootaloo watched their light rise through the darkness, and then jumped into the air, her tiny wings buzzing as she tried to follow them. It was no use, though. Even at full speed, she could only get a few feet off the ground before plummeting back down.

Then she heard the sound of clicking limbs behind her, and knew that the creatures had found her. She looked up one more time, and saw that she could no longer see Wintry’s light. Scootaloo took a deep breath, and then yelled to the creatures approaching her.

“HEY! You want a pony? How about you come and GET ONE!” She unloaded into them, watching the needle on her helmet display slowly falling as she depleted her coil.

As expected, this only seemed to make the monstrosities in the dark more angry, and they pushed forward, once again forcing Scootaloo to run.

“Captain!” cried a distorted voice through Scootaloo’s comlink. “The ships, they suddenly started- -oh Celestia, how- -where did they come from? Captain! The ships our here, they’re mobilizing!”

“Don’t leave yet!” ordered Scootaloo. “That’s an order!”

“I don’t know how long we can hold on! The shields- -”

“Just a few more seconds! As soon as Wintrygust and Heart are on, GET OUT!”

“Captain, what do you mean? You’re not- -”

“Just do what I TOLD YOU!” screamed Scootaloo, turning around to fire another barrage into the oncoming horde before ducking around a corner. Her ammunition was now at twenty five percent.

“I’ve sent out a distress signal,” said Blossomforth. “I don’t know if- -”

Her signal hissed, crackling out as a new one superseded it.

“This is Cerberus vessel ‘192’,” said a female voice. She sounded profoundly familiar, but because of her thick French accent and Scootaloo’s dire situation, Scootaloo found her impossible to place. “We are inbound on your position, ETA seven minutes. Just hold on, if you can.”

Before Scootaloo could even ask who the owner of the second voice actually was, the signal was cut. Scootaloo looked back through the dark halls, and then started running again. Her only hope now was that there would be somewhere to run too.

The diamond-shaped ships outside swarmed around, their shapes unfolding as their facets separated and bent, separating and reconfiguring into hundreds of smaller fighters. They swarmed around the Failure, and Blossomforth watched them, breathing hard. The situation was bad, but the Captain had given her an order- -one that she intended to keep to the letter.

Sassaflash, meanwhile, was somehow still asleep, hunched over her non-functional interface and smiling as she slept.

“Come on, breeder,” said Blossomforth, opening her own control for the helm. Unlike Scootaloo, she had never attended officer training and had certainly not been trained as a helmsmare, but she knew that somepony would need to control the ship when they bolted.

Her eyes were directed entirely on the indicator for the airlock. She watched, waiting- -until suddenly it changed color.

“Breeder,” she said into the breeder’s channel. “Are you on board?”

“Dr. Heart and I have returned!” replied the breeder, sounding as though she was on the verge of tears. “But I need- -I have to go back!”

“No,” said Blossomforth, sealing the airlock. “We’re out of here.” She pulled the ship away, not even bothering to retract the umbilical, instead just severing it.

Almost as soon as she moved, the swarm of alien ships suddenly converged on her position, as if they had been waiting for ship to reveal that it was, in fact, active. Several of them opened fire, and Failure was rocked by the impact as its shields shattered in a single blow. Warning klaxons began to sound, and Blossomforth cringed in panic as her system flickered before showing the massive damage that had been caused to the ship by the feedback.

“I can’t- -we have to- -”

The ship suddenly fell to the side, and Blossomforth braced for the vacuum of space to consume her, knowing that they had been struck- -but as she opened her eyes, she saw the ship tilting in a complex evasive maneuver and barely dodging the bolts of energy that were now pouring in from multiple enemy ships. She looked down at her controls, and saw that the helm was active.

Across the room, she suddenly realized that Sassaflash was now sitting upright, her eyes wide and fully alert. Not only had she unlocked her helm controls, but her hooves slid across the interface faster than Blossomforth had seen any pony move before. The ship responded to her motion, twisting and shuddering through space, its maneuvers tilting it between the oncoming projectiles and beams and the fighters.

The blast door behind her slid open and the breeder entered, barely stabilizing herself as the ship twisted and rolled. “What are you doing?!” she cried. “We have to go back! The Captain is still on that thing!”

“Not a chance,” said Blossomforth. “She ordered me to take you and get out, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“The entrance corridor is closed anyway,” said Sassaflash, her voice so rapid that her sentence was compressed into almost a single word.

Outside, a second ship suddenly appeared from darkspace, tearing across the battlefield at impossible speed, its bizarre shape plummeting toward the Crimson Horizon as it opened fire on the various ships below.

“Apparently not for them, though,” noted Sassaflash. She ignored the second ship, taking advantage of the distraction it had caused. “I need more power,” she said. She opened a second interface. “I’m shutting down the remaining shield power and life support and putting everything we have into the engines.”

“Wait!” cried Blossomforth. “The dampeners- -!”

The lights suddenly went out, as well as the gravity, and Blossomforth was thrown back into her seat as the inertial dampeners were reduced to their absolute minimum functional capacity. She felt herself screaming as Sassaflash began to take a complex formation of impossible turns that made the entire ship creak and screech as the metal was stressed by immense g-forces. At one point, Blossomforth even felt herself blacking out. Sassaflash, however, continued her maneuvering.

Then, as the black spots in Blossomforth’s vision began to clear, she saw a pair of large ships in front of them, slowly moving to block their path.

“Sassaflash!” she cried as the gap closed in. Predictive warnings were beeping on her interface, letting her know what she already knew. “It’s too narrow! We won’t fit! Turn! TURN!”

“We won’t fit,” admitted Sassflash. A broad smile crossed her face. “Which means…MORE SPEED!”

She pushed her hooves forward and slammed the throttle to maximum. The ship immediately jumped to lights speed, and Blossomforth screamed as the ever-closing gap suddenly seemed to come forward much, much faster. She covered her head with her hooves as the ship slammed into the hole, tearing off its control spires and antennae.

Somehow, though, she did not die. There was a sudden turbulence as they left the Crimson Horizon’s displacement field and suddenly dropped to stationary speed. The Crimson Horizon- -and everything connected to it- -seemed to vanish as it progressed forward, leaving the Failure in its wake. Sassaflash smiled, and then passed out, falling out of her chair.

“We have to go back!” cried the breeder in the darkness. “You idiot, we need to go back! She’s still there!”

The ship shudder, and suddenly lost power.

“We have a problem,” said Dr. Heart, hurriedly speaking through the communication channel. “You overexerted the Core- -she’s flatlining! If we don’t want to be stranded without power in darkspace, I need to get her into surgery RIGHT NOW!”

“Does that answer your question, breeder?” said Blossomforth. “Even if we could catch up with them, even if we could fight them off, we have no Core until Heart is finished. I’m afraid the Captain is on her own.”

Scootaloo ran through the hallways, pausing to catch her breath. Her mouth seemed to be filling with thick mucus, and she felt like she was choking on it. It did not help that her air supply could not compensate with her exertion and had been forced to concentrate the stinking atmospheric air. Not only did it smell bad, but it was thin. In her oxygen-depraved haze, Scootaloo wondered if it had been intended that way for this very reason.

The creatures approached again, and Scootaloo opened fire- -only to hear the mechanism click. She had consumed all of the magic in her coil.

“Then I guess we’re going to have to do this the hard way,” said Scootaloo, spreading her wings and taking a fighting stance.

The creatures approached- -and then stopped. They seemed to shiver, and looked around wildly. Then they parted, their bodies jerking and clicking as they sidestepped. The dim orange lights that lit deep elements of the organic-like walls suddenly glowed much brighter, casting the room in a sickly glow.

From behind the creatures, a pony stepped forward. She was not like the monsters; in fact, she looked almost entirely normal save for the artificial exoskeleton that covered her entire body, linking to it by numerous cables and tubes that were ingrained into her armor. No part of her skin or coat was exposed, not even her face, which was covered with a smooth black mask with a small illuminated circle in the center.

The circle shifted, moving across the black surface like an eye and focusing on the smaller pony standing before her.

“Scootaloo,” she said, her voice distorted heavily by the machines that seemed to make up much of her body. “Every time. Every single time.”

“Do I know you?” said Scootaloo, slowly.

“No. And it is imperative that you never do.”

“We have your position locked,” said a French-accented voice in Scootaloo’s ear. “Our landing team is onboard and inbound.”

“Who are you?” demanded Scootaloo.

“Lady Sunset Shimmer calls me Xyuka. It is a functional name, since I have none of my own. Not anymore. And that is all you need to know.”

“And this ship? These creatuers?”

“Kill her,” said Xyuka.

Scootaloo ducked as the nearest of the creatures leapt forward, only to watch as its front limbs were liquefied as they impacted a hemisphere of violet energy that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Confused, Scootaloo looked up to see a pony standing above her, her long violet wings extended and her horn charged with energy. She was dressed in black and white armor, with a prominent insignia on her side consisting of a thin white hexagon flanked by orange.

Suddenly, Scootaloo remembered where she had heard that voice before. Apart from the French accent, it was identical to that of Twilight Sparkle.

Another two alicorns rushed past she shield bubble. The larger of the two body slammed the nearest creature, sending it reeling, while her thinner counterpart slashed through another and leapt onto the face of a third, gouging out its eyes with her magic.

More of the creatures advanced, only to be knocked back by a barrage of magic bolts that curved through the air, surrounding their targets in corrosive blue light. Scootaloo looked back to see a humanoid woman in black, skin-tight armor rush forward, her fists charged with magical energy. The three of them rushed forward while the alicorn projecting the shield dragged Scootaloo back.

From the darkness, another human emerged. She did not run or rush, but rather walked leisurely forward, taking her time. Unlike the other, she was dressed in heavy black and white armor, save for her face. Scootaloo saw that her skin was unusually gray, and her curly hair was long and greasy. Strangely, she was smiling, and her blue irises narrowed into a pair of slits as she approached the action ahead.

“This place smells like ass,” she said, her own voice heavy with a thick French accent similar to that of the alicorns’. Her smile became increasingly wide and frightening. “And we know what we do to asses around these parts, don’t we?” She yelled to the front. “Oriana! Six, Seven! Prep for evac! I’m taking the rear!” She giggled, and turned to a fourth alicorn who stood at her feet. “Eight? I’m going to need a gun.”

There was a flash of violet light, and a massive weapon dropped into the human woman’s hands. She looked at it, her eyes scanning the rotating assembly of multiple barrels and the mass-effect projectile system linked to it.

“Oh, Eight,” she said. “You sexy little whorse…” She took hold of the weapon and pointed it at the oncoming swarm of monsters, and the barrels slowly started to spin. Then, all at once, the air was cut by the sound of thousands of bullets flying through the air. The two alicorns in her path neatly moved out of the way, using their wings to adjust their trajectory. The other human barely managed to dodge.

It was nearly impossible to hear over the sound of the bullets, but Scootaloo saw that the human was laughing wildly as she reduced the bodies of the ponies in her way into silver and red mist.

“CRY SOME MOAR!” she screamed over the sound of the minigun.

The alicorns and the black-suited human closed in around Scootaloo.

“You’re going to want to brace yourself,” said the one holding onto Scootaloo. Before Scootaloo could ask, the smaller unicorn who had summoned the minigun joined the formation. There was a sudden flash of light, and Scootaloo felt herself being teleported to somewhere else.

Now all alone, the human continued to unload mass-effect driven bullets into the crowd, slaughtering countless creatures as she laughed manically. Xyuka did not even bother to dodge; she simply raised a shield, surrounding herself with a force-field consisting of interlocking orange hexagons. As surprised as she was to see a mass-effect weapon, its projectiles were insignificant to her.

Since the minigun ran using the mass-effect, it was virtually impossible for it to run out of ammunition. After several moments, however, the human stopped firing and lowered the smoking, red-hot barrels.

“Well,” she said. “I came. Was it good for you too?”

“Hardly,” said Xyuka. “I don’t know what you expected to accomplish with this.”

The human only smiled, and then raised one middle finger to the pony before she was surrounded in a sudden surge of violet light and teleported out.

Bob reemerged in the control room of the 192. Seated before her below a mass of monitors and control projections in the otherwise immaculately white room were a pair of individuals: a blonde, blue-eyed synth, his fingers rapidly moving over the controls as he pushed the ship through evasive maneuvers, and a grayish alicorn, the stumps of her severed wings fluttering involuntarily as she operated the violet control interface hovering in front of her.

“Marc, Four, we need to get out of here. NOW,” said Bob.

“I’m working on that,” said Marc Antony, harshly. “This isn’t exactly easy!”

“We’re going to need to fire the cannon!” said Bob.

“Are you insane? At these speeds- -”

“FIRE THE DAMN CANNON, MARC! Unless you want to die with me!”

“I can’t!” shouted the synth, growing increasingly agitated. “I can’t do the necessary calculations and the evasive maneuvers at the same time- -”

“I can do it,” said Four, opening the necessary windows and shifting her chair toward the other half of Marc Antony’s controls.

“Are you sure?” said Marc Antony. “The level of calculus needed just to start- -it isn’t something an organic brain can normally handle.”

“Trust me,” said Four, smiling seductively. “This organic brain can do a lot. You can count on me, and you know it.”

Marc Antony smiled, not taking his eyes of his work. “The only one I really can, you adorable little genius.”

Xyuka looked up through her optics, watching the ship outside swirling and tilting through her fleet, trailing a biphasic graviton field in its wake. Arguably, she could have destroyed it at any moment, but Xyuka was surprisingly less sure of that assertion than she was of almost everything else.

More importantly, though, she was trying to discern how she had failed to detect the second ship. Looking back through the sensor data that she had accumulated, there were signs, but she had somehow failed to compile them into meaningful information. Instead, she had dismissed them as anomalies- -but now she realized that they must have been the after-images of a spacecraft that had somehow compressed its entire signature into a minsicule spatial area. As far as Xyuka knew, no civilizations present in this particular universe had that level of technology.

“Oh well,” she said to herself, shrugging. She dismissed the thought, instead resolving to determine its cause from the wreck of the ship once she neutralized it. Outside, her fleet moved into position to annihilate it.

As she watched, though, something on the rear of the vessel changed. A rear plate slid open, and a device emerged. Xyuka almost laughed at how quaint their technology was- -but then froze as she saw the internal mechanisms of the weapon beginning to shift and charge, producing a surge of energy that rapidly resolved into a singularity.

“What the…” Her eyes suddenly widened beneith her helmet. “SUNSET!” she cried. “Evasive maneuvers! NOW!”

“That will not be necessary,” said Sunset Shimmer, her voice projected directly into Xyuka’s audio system. She sounded annoyed that Xyuka had deigned to give HER an order. “The dimensional shield will be more than adequate to handle anything their puny weapons can produce.”

“You don’t understand! That’s Voqutan technology! You need to move, NOW- -”

Outside, the weapon suddenly ignited, its beam propagating exponentially into a blue cone of light that reduced the nearest of Xyuka’s ships to ash. It condensed, swirling into a singular beam, and proceeded toward the Crimson Horizon.

Sunset Shimmer projected the dimensional field, barrier of orange energy that was intended to protect against any real threat, whether it be energy or matter. The beam completely ignored it, passing through and cutting into the Crimson Horizon’s side, tearing apart miles of metal, ripping a tremendous hole in its side. It continued to propagate, converting forms and spreading, corroding through the Crimson Horizon’s body and corroding away both external and internal structures. Hundreds of drones attempted to flee, only to have their flesh dissolved away by the blue glow.

High above, Sunset Suddenly dropped to her knees, screaming in agony as a gash was torn through her body, feeling her magic bleeding out from the wound.

Xyuka watched, committed to the inevitability of the circumstances at hand. The damage was extensive, she knew. Even devastating. But it would not be lethal. It had only been intended as a distraction.

As she watched, the Voqutan ship opened a portal in space and instantly vanished into it, travelling instantly to some distant part of the universe to wait- -and taking Scootaloo with it. Xyuka only continued to observe, and then turned to attend to Sunset, making a mental note of the events that had just unfolded.

Chapter 13: The 192

Scootaloo gasped and tore off her helmet. The air surrounding her did not smell good at all; it had a scent of solvents, mechanical grease, and something metallic rotting badly, but it was better than the rarified gas she had been breathing.

She collapsed to the cold metal floor, shaking from the reduced oxygen. Above her, one of the masked ponies watched with mild amusement. Then she removed her helmet. Even with her hair cut short, it still had its characteristic pink strip, and her eyes still had the shape Scootaloo was familiar with.

“Twilight,” she gasped.

“What is this Twilight?” asked the alicorn.

“She is suffering from severe hypoxia and strenuous physical exertion,” said another pony. This one was much larger than the other, but she had already removed her helmet to reveal that despite her size she also looked nearly identical to Twilight Sparkle. At her side was a thin pony who remained masked, with only her horn and fluffy purple wings visible.

“Take a step back,” said a voice that was not Twilight’s. The black-clad human stepped forward, with the forth alicorn close to her side. She removed her own respiration mask, shaking out her hair and setting the helmet behind her. Scootaloo was surprised by her appearance: she was as beautiful as her comrade was ugly. Her face was perfectly proportioned with smooth, black hair that actually looked clean. She even smelled nice.

The human put her hand on Scootaloo’s shoulder. “Eight, a medical kit?”

The alicorn beside her nodded and there was a small blast of purple as a box with a green-colored cross appeared at the human’s side. She immediately opened it and attached a mask to Scootaloo’s face.

“Breathe, pony. You’re save with Cerberus now.”

Scootaloo resisted at first, not sure what she was being forced to breathe. When she noticed that there was no smell, though, she began to feel better.

“Your condenser must have actually been feeding you the gas on that ship,” she said, picking up a syringe and feeding it through Scootaloo’s medical port. Scootaloo cringed as she was injected with the contents of the needle. “You might not have noticed, but the air had a high concentration of toxic particulates. It is not conducive to alien life. You were lucky to not have passed out.”

“But the other human…she was not wearing a mask.”

“Mother is an exception,” said one of the alicorns. She smiled, and Scootaloo saw that unlike the real Twilight, her teeth were unusually pointed.

“You know what humans are? That makes this easier.”

Scootaloo sat up suddenly, the drug injected into her taking effect. “My ship! My crew! I need to- -”

“Calm down,” said the largest of the alicorns. “Four confirmed that your vessel safely exited the spatial dilation field. They are safe.”

“Or as safe as they can be,” said another Twilight voice. Scootaloo turned to see a fifth pony. Initially, she did not perceive this one as a Twilight. Her skin was more gray than purple, and she seemed unhealthily thin. That, and she had no wings, which as she walked Scootaloo quickly realized was because they had been torn from her body, leaving only a pair of scarred stumps. “They put their ship through hell getting it out of here. Whoever your pilot is, he’s either an absolute moron or…well…a reckless moron.”

The fifth alicorn was not alone. She was standing close to the feet of another human, this one tall with long yellow hair and handsomely wide eyes that looked somehow perversely dead. He was wearing a bomber jacket over a white shirt with the Cerberus insignia on the front.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I thought it was pretty impressive.”

“It would have been more impressive if it had hit something,” said Four. She appeared older than the others, and her voice was just slightly deeper. Scootaloo realized that she was most likely the one she had heard over the comlink. “I really would like to have seen how an Equestrian ship looks when it explodes.”

“The explosions all look the same without the correct analytic scanners,” said the blonde human.

“Who said I hadn’t already engaged them?”

“In the middle of plowing through alien ships on a rescue mission?”

“Why not? Just because you can’t manage it doesn’t mean I can’t.”

The human smiled and rustled her hair. She giggled and leaned against his leg.

“It’s getting to crowded in here,” said the other human. She reached for Scootaloo’s shoulder. “I’ll get you to the medical bay.”

“No,” said Scootaloo, taking off the breathing mask. “I’m fine. It’s just that…oh crap. Holy buck. I thought I was going to die there. Actually…” she looked around the room. “I’m not so sure I didn’t.”

“Trust me,” said the blond human. “When Bob gets back from whatever she’s doing, you’ll wish you had.”

“Agent!” snapped the other human. She looked down at Scootaloo and smiled. “He doesn’t mean it.”

“I think he might,” said one of the alicorns.

“Quiet, you!” She turned back to Scootaloo. “What’s your name, little pony?”

“Scootaloo, Capt- -I mean Priestess of the Cult of Harmony. I’m captain of that ship that you saw.”

“Captain? Really?” said one of the alicorns. “Who sends the captain on an away mission?”

“Well, my name is Oriana. Oriana Lawson, Cerberus operative First-Class. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain Scootaloo.” She extended a hand, and as strange as the appendage was, Scootaloo took it in her hoof and shook it.

“And the…the alicorns?”

Oriana pointed, starting with the older gray one that stood next to the blond human. “That is Four. The large one is Six, and the one standing next to her Seven. This is Eight,” she put her hand on the back of the one standing next to her who had teleported in the medical kit, and the alicorn removed her helmet, smiling cheerfully despite the fact that she was bearing her pointed teeth directly at Scootaloo. “And the youngest is Nine, there.”

“You’re the first pony I’ve ever met that’s not one of us,” mused Nine. “You look smaller than I expected.”

“I’m not a very big pony,” said Scootaloo. She tried to stand, but found that all the running on the Crimson Horizon had taken more out of her than she had thought and she fell. Oriana and Eight rushed forward to support her.

“Weaker than I anticipated, too,” said Nine.

“And him?” said Scootaloo, trying to draw attention away from her inability to immediately stand. Something about these alicorns struck her as strange, and not just the fact that they all looked like Twilight Sparkle. Something about them was ominous, as if they seemed unusually hungry. “The other human?”

“He’s not a human,” snapped Four.

“Four, it’s okay,” he said. “She is right, though. I’m not human. My name is Marc Antony. And you are adorable. Not nearly as adorable as Four, of course, but still damn cute.”

“Aww,” said Four. “You think I’m cute?”

“You are, and you know it.”

Four’s wing stumps fluttered involuntarily as she smiled up at Marc Antony. Scootaloo was about to ask exactly what he was if he was not human when she suddenly became aware of a pair of blue eyes watching her from a dark doorway. Scootaloo suddenly seemed to forget about how tired and sore she was and nearly jumped out of her skin upon seeing those eyes.

The eyes moved forward, and the gray face they were connected to came into the light. Then their owner stood.

“Marc?” she said. “What range did you give us?”

“I parked us around X81777. No inhabited worlds, no mass relay. Not even a real name. We won’t be disturbed here. After what you pulled with the cannon, Bjorn is going to need time to recover.”

“He deserves it. That was pretty epic. You guys were great.” The woman looked down at the alicorns. “Another perfect execution. We didn’t get any food, but still. Whatever the hell those things were, we showed them.”

“Thank you, mother,” said Nine, beaming with pride.

The human’s eyes turned toward Scootaloo, and she moved into the room, crouching suddenly and pressing her face to within inches of Scootaloo’s own. As Scootaloo expected, this human stunk. Badly. Like rotten meat and something chemical.

With their faces so close togather, Scootaloo could see that the human’s eyes seemed much larger than normal. With her pupils not compressed into slits in the dim light, they were enormous and inky black with only a thin rim of blue iris around them.

Then, without warning, she licked Scootaloo’s nose and stood up. “Tastes like pone.”

“Bob!” said Oriana. “That’s unprofessional!”

“I’m pretty sure the only pro here is you,” noted Bob. She smiled, and Scootaloo noticed that her canine teeth were slightly longer than they should have been. “I am Bob,” she said. “In the female sense. I’m a girl Bob. You’d know that already if Cerberus didn’t require me to wear, you know, clothes. This is my ship. I own it. I also own Marc Antony.”

“She doesn’t really,” said Marc Antony.

“I don’t? Oh, well, then I guess I’m his boss. I pay him.”

“Sometimes,” muttered Marc Antony.

“And you’re Cerberus too,” inferred Scootaloo.

“Cerberus pays me,” said Bob, “and I like money. So yeah, I’m Cerberus.”

“It’s about more than just getting paid,” snapped Oriana, angrily.

“Really? A bit ironic for you to be saying that, don’t you think?”

Six leaned in close to Scootaloo and whispered. “It’s funny because she is implying that miss Oriana is a prostitute.”

“Which is ironic coming from HER,” added Oriana.

“Hey! I’ve never done it for money!”

“Has anyone ever asked?” asked Marc Antony.

“Well…no.” She smiled deviously. “Do you want to be the first, Marc? Come on, I’ve seen the way you look at me. Come on, put a synth baby in me!”

Marc Antony looked like he was about to vomit. Bob laughed.

“Oh,” said Scootaloo, looking around. The adrenaline caused by Bob’s sudden appearance was fading, and Scootaloo began to feel immensely tired. She started to wonder just what was in that syringe she had been injected with. “I think…I think I need to be unconscious now.”

With that, she passed out.

Scootaloo awoke with a start and stared into the darkness. She did not know where she was, or how she had gotten there. Then the memories started to come back to her, and that did not help her situation at all.

As her eyes adjusted, she realized that she was in a storage room. The walls were lined with racks and racks of equipment. Almost all of it was guns and weapons of every shape and size imaginable, but there were also neatly organized stacks of medical supplies as well as what Scootaloo could only guess were explosives. On the far end, there were even several sets of Cerberus armor sized both for humans and for ponies.

Scootaloo, had, apparently, been given a blanket to lie on. There was also a small note taped to her chest, written in neat cursive hoofwriting that looked almost exactly like she would expect from Twilight Sparkle, apart from the fact that the Equestrian written was grammatically clunky and almost archaic. It read, roughly: “Don’t you dare touch ANYTHING or I will teleport your intestines into your throat. Thank you. Yours, Eight.”

“What the hay,” muttered Scootaloo, rubbing her head and standing up. She realized suddenly that she was not wearing her landing armor; it had been removed and placed neatly beside her. She was now standing in the undergarments associated with it: socks, a vest, and panties. The implication was that somepony had undressed her, but Scootaloo tried to ignore that though.

It was, however, somewhat fortuitous. Sleeping in landingwear was terribly uncomfortable, and the few times Scootaloo had tried it she had woken up with terrible cramps. Even now, despite having only a thin blanket between her and the cold metal ground, Scootaloo felt surprisingly good. Her muscles were sore, but she was no longer tired.

Scootaloo stretched and yawned, and then started putting her outer clothing back on. She was not entirely sure why; the denizens of this ship had already shown themselves as not being openly hostile. Something about this place made armor seem appropriate, though.

Exactly who the owners of this ship were, though, was still beyond Scootaloo. She distantly recalled that Rainbow Dash had mentioned the name “Cerberus” several times before, and not referring to the species of three-headed dog on Tartarus. That had been after the incident at the aliens’ Citadel, though, and by then Rainbow Dash was hardly willing to talk to Scootaloo about anything, especially the intricacies of alien organizations.

Scootaloo was on the fence about them. They had saved her life, of course, but there were still too many questions. The largest of them being why this ship’s crew consisted mostly of nearly identical alicorns. To answer that, though, she would need to actually ask.

Once she was dressed, Scootaloo exited the room. Outside, she found herself in a long, empty hallway. There was almost no light, and at the corner of her vision she could have sworn that she saw something move through the shadows. Something very tall and very thin. Scootaloo chose to go in the opposite direction.

The corridor of this ship immediately struck her as strange. Normally, in Equestrian ship design- -and she assumed in any ship design- -the structural walls of a ship were covered with a façade that protected the internal components of the walls. It made the ship look neat and clean but also kept the crew from accidentally coming in contact with anything hot or damaged. On this ship, however, the plating on the walls had been completely omitted. The frames of the walls were exposed and opened, and conduits and pipes were visible on the walls and ceiling. The inside of many of the rooms were visible through the walls, and most seemed to contain crates and boxes or other unidentifiable equipment.

Most of the pipes and components in the walls seemed strange as well. They were not consistent, but would rather rapidly shift between designs and formats that had been welded or connected together by bizarre interfaces. The few light sources that were present in the corridor were not evenly spaced, but rather added to various power conduits as though they were secondary, a decision made at the last minute after everything else was built. This led to them never being in exactly the same place, but instead appearing at random intervals and on random parts of the wall.

Even the floor was incomplete. It consisted of large metal tiles connected to glowing strands of conduit, and there were wide spaces between them. As Scootaloo jumped or stepped from tile to tile, she felt gravity shift and realized that the metal was actually gravity plating- -and there was barely enough of it to keep her from floating away.

As she moved through the vessel, Scootaloo realized that she could hear voices. At first she thought she might possibly be going insane, but then she heard motion as well as ponies were moving around: hoofsteps, the sound of things clinking together. Scootaloo followed the sound through the bowels of the ship.

When she finally reached the source of the sound, Scootaloo found herself looking into a large room with a table in the center, lit by several intense white lights in the ceiling that made the room’s occupants cast strange shadows. Numerous alicorn eyes looked up at Scootaloo as she peered in.

Most of the alicorns were seated at the table. Eight sat on one side, and Six and Seven were on the other. Four was at the end, but did not have a seat of her own. Rather, she was sitting in Marc Antony’s lap, her forelegs wrapped around his neck as she held him.

“Look who decided to wake up,” said Four, leaning back from Marc Antony.

“You got my note?” said Eight, looking suspiciously at Scootaloo.

Scootaloo held up the note. “Yeah, I got it. Don’t worry. I didn’t touch anything.”

“Good,” said Eight, smiling. “Because I have a system. Everything NEEDS to be organized. Perfectly. Every time. And I really would hate to mess with the order of your organs. It gets…messy.”

“I always think it is funny,” said Four. “I mean, the look on their faces. They always seem so surprised.”

The alicorns turned toward Seven, who was the only one in the room who was still wearing her mask. She did not speak, but the other alicorns giggled.

“Seven likes it too,” explained Six. “Seven likes a lot of things like that.”

“Pone!” said Bob, emerging into the room. She was holding a wet-looking cardboard box. Nine was at her side, levitating several metal trays. “You came for dinner!”

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” said Scootaloo. “I’m sorry, I’ll just- -”

“No way!” said Bob. Nine’s magic pulled Scootaloo into the room. “You’re our guest! We’re celebrating our success rescuing you, so you might as well be here. It’s a bit of a minor feast. Well, every meal is a feast for them. Growing alicorns need their food!”

“Technically, we’re not growing anymore,” noted Six.

“Especially not you,” giggled Eight, poking fun at the fact that Six had a size and proportions that were nearly that of a stallion.

“You’re just jealous because I always get to be on top.”

“Girls, there’s no need to fight!” said Bob, laughing.

“Yeah,” said Nine, setting down the containers that she had been holding. “You all know mother always gets to be on top.”

“Not what I meant, Nine,” said Bob. “True, but not what I meant.” She reached into the box and removed what she was carrying. Scootaloo stepped back in horror when she realized that it was a severed arm. It looked nearly human, except that its skin was hairless and blue. The ragged stump at the base was still oozing thick purple blood. “A special treat! Dig in!”

Eight and Seven immediately leapt onto the table, each grabbing the arm with their teeth. Seven, despite wearing a mask that mostly covered her face, still managed to get a good grip on the blue flesh, and Scootaloo saw that her teeth were much longer, numerous, and more pointed than those of her sisters.

Six seemed more interested in what was in the metal containers, and scooped several large quantities of what appeared to be raw meat onto her plate. Salivating, she then started eating. Nine also took food from the containers, but her magic also sliced through the hand on the table and removed the thumb.

“Hey!” cried Eight, releasing the arm and causing Seven to tumble backward off the table with it still in her mouth. “I wanted the thumb!”

“You hate the hand, Eight. Besides, it’s mine now.”

“No fair!”

Seven was now tearing flesh off the base of the arm, devouring it loudly. Four watched this, mildly disgusted, and then brought over some food on a plate using her magic. Marc Antony smiled and picked up the fork, feeding the alicorn on his lap. When he tried to take the fork away, she grabbed his hand and slowly licked the meaty juices from the fork.

Bob, meanwhile, sat down between Marc Antony and Nine- -the latter of which sidled closer to her- -and poured out a large pile of white powder onto the table. She then smiled and shoved her face into it. Almost as soon as she did, she stopped moving.

“Um…is she okay?” asked Scootaloo.

“She’s fine,” said Six. “Her dopamine receptors differ substantially from the normal human phenotype. The cocaine has no effect on her.”

Bob pointed across the table. “Fuck you, Six. You have no idea how much I fucking love cocaine!”

“Did you at least actually get cocaine this time, Bob?” said Marc Antony, who was picking up a long strip of meat and wiggling it in front of Four’s nose.

Bob lifted her head. Her face was covered in white material, and she snorted loudly. She seemed to contemplate the smell for a moment, and then sighed. “Goddamn it…”

“Please tell me it wasn’t the anthrax spores this time.”

“It wasn’t the anthrax spores this time.” Bob swept the pile onto the floor in a cloud of dust and wiped off her face. Her eyes- -now once again narrowed into slits- -turned toward Scootaloo. “Come on, little wingie-pone! Sit! Eat! Or, if you prefer, get eaten.”

“She does look tasty,” said Nine. “Those little wings…”

“Nine!” said Eight, who had managed to wrestle part of the blue arm away from Seven. “You know we don’t have our guests for dinner! Well, not in that sense. It would be rude!”

“Besides,” said Bob, “Pegasus wings aren’t great unless you marinade them. Lots of little bones. And the feathers…don’t get me started on the feathers…”

Scootaloo did not ask why Bob knew what Pegasus wings tasted like, and she did not want to know why. Against her own better judgement, she moved up to the table and sat down. Eight passed a bucket of meat to her. “Do you want some? It’s very good! I think there’s some human down near the bottom…”

“Thank you,” said Scootaloo, suppressing her urge to vomit, “but I’m a herbivore.”

“Ah,” said Bob. “Then you’re one of those homosexuals, then?”

“I’m a homosexual,” said Six, raising her hoof.

“Idiot,” said Nine. “We’re ALL homosexuals.”

“She isn’t,” said Marc Antony, pointing at Four. “I checked.”

“Doesn’t count if it’s with family,” said Bob. She searched through the nearest can of meat and smiled as she pulled out a finger. She immediately began to gnaw on it. “Still. We don’t really have vegetables. They just aren’t as fun.”

“I think Oriana has a stock of standard human fare,” suggested Six. “You can ask her to share some.”

“Standard? You mean this isn’t what humans normally eat?”

“No,” said Bob. “This is totally what humans eat. I should know. I’m a human. We are definitely all cannibals.”

“We’re not,” said Six. She pointed at the arm that Seven had now moved to the table. “This is an asari arm. We are not asari. We are ponies. This, therefore, is totally natural.”

Scootaloo looked up at Marc Antony. Despite feeding Four, he was not eating any food himself.

“What about you?” asked Scootaloo.

“Me?” said Marc Antony. “I don’t eat. It’s actually disgusting.”

“Even when I do it?” said Four, feigning offense and pouting.

“Especially when you do it,” said Marc Antony, smiling.

“You don’t eat? Ever?”

“Never have, never will. I don’t have to.”

“How?”

“She doesn’t know, Marc,” said Bob. “She’s probably never even seen a synth before.”

“Synth?”

“That’s what I am,” said Marc Antony. “Despite this very expensive artificial skin, beneath, I’m all ceramic, plastic, steel, and a surprising amount of palladium. I’m a machine. I don’t need to eat.”

“Really?” said Scootaloo. She could not tell if he was lying or not, but it certainly made sense with the way his skin looked just a little bit off and the way his eyes seemed so profoundly strange despite their ostentatious normality. “A machine?”

“A very, very high quality machine,” said Four. “Every single part is custom machined down to the tenth of a nanometer and assembled with absolute care and precision.”

“And nobody knows more than Four about Marc Antony’s ‘parts’,” said Eight, who promptly dodged a rather sharp knife propelled at her by Four’s magic.

Scootaloo took a deep breath, and supposed she could accept that answer. “Which brings me to my next question…”

“No,” said Bob. “The answer is no. We don’t have catsup. We’re not communists here.”

“But I like catsup,” said Eight. She glanced up at Seven and frowned. “Quiet, you.”

“That wasn’t it,” said Scootaloo. “I meant the alicorns.”

“These?” said Bob, pointing. “Oh. They’re just my sexy pone daughters.”

“That isn’t what I meant. I mean, where did they come from?”

Bob frowned. “No. You don’t understand. I literally just told you. As in, popped each one of them out of my formerly tight, virgin vagina.”

Marc Antony immediately burst into laughter so intense that he nearly dropped Four. It culminated with him putting his head on the table, which only muffled the sound slightly.

“What?” said Bob. “It’s true.”

“You actually said….virgin…with a straight face! I can’t believe…you actually…”

“What? You can ask anyone in the galaxy. I can guarantee that you will not find a single being who has porked me.”

“Only because you bite their throats out when you climax! Which for you takes what, twenty, thirty seconds tops? When was the last time you actually a virgin, Bob?”

“Well, six months old, so…um…” she started counting on her fingers, and Scootaloo noticed that she only had eight total. Both her ring fingers had been removed.

“We actually are her daughters,” explained Six. “In the most literal of senses. Technically, we are synthetically generated- -clones, you could say- -but due to our unique biology we could not be tank-raised like humans or protheans. We had to be implanted into a living womb.”

“And Cerberus payed through the nose to use mine,” said Bob. “I mean, I literally got paid enough to buy every gun on Pandora. Which I did. And now I’m a proud mommy of lots of little horses. Though giving birth to something with wings and a horn HURTS. Like HELL. And pumping out four at a time is not pleasant.”

“Four at a time…” Scootaloo looked around the room. “But there’s five.”

Their expressions changed, especially Four, who held Marc Antony even closer. He ran his hand through her mane, comforting her.

“Yeah,” said Bob. “I did two batches of four. The first group…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Four.

“It’s okay,” said Marc Antony. “Suffice it to say, Cerberus badly mismanaged the first batch.”

“And I blame myself for that,” said Bob, for the first time sounding serious. “But I fixed that. When I found out what they did, I ate the main scientist in charge. Not altar boy to Catholic priest eating, either. I Dahmerized him. In front of his friends. And his successor treated my next batch with the respect they deserve.”

“But that doesn’t explain why there’s no ‘Five’.”

“Oh, that. That name was already taken. So we skipped it.”

“Could you imagine?” said Six. “If I were Five? And Seven was Six?”

Seven released a hiss that Scootaloo could only assume was laughter.

“Seven?” said Scootaloo. “Do you always wear that mask?”

“She does,” said Nine. “And she doesn’t talk.”

“Oh,” said Scootaloo. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” said Eight. “It’s because she came out derped. Her eyes are- -”

Seven’s horn suddenly charged and a beam of violet light struck Eight, sparking on impact and producing a small explosion that knocked off her chair.

Bob sighed. “Are you dead, Eight?”

“Nooo,” moaned Eight, who was still smoking slightly on the floor.

“Good. Don’t make fun of Seven. She WILL kill you. And eat you. She’s the only one here who I think might actually be leaning toward cannibalism.”

“Trust me,” said Nine, “she already LOVES what each of us taste like.”

Bob flicked the tip of Nine’s horn, and Nine shivered. “Don’t be dirty at the dinner table.”

“Sorry, mom.” Nine leaned her head against Bob’s waist, and Bob ran her hand through the pony’s mane.

“Aren’t they just the cutest thing? Totally worth twenty two months of pregnancy.”

“But I still don’t understand,” said Scootaloo. “You’re not a pony. So the genetic source…” She looked at the alicorns around her. “It must have been Twilight Sparkle. How did Cerberus get that?”

“No idea,” said Bob. “None at all. I didn’t ask.”

“Cerberus has an extensive reach,” said Marc Antony, as if that was supposed to explain why Scootaloo was sitting in a room full of Twilight Sparkle clones with French accents.

“And Cerberus is, what, exactly?” asked Scootaloo.

“Marc, the spiel!” said Bob.

“I love the spiel,” said Six.

“You would,” said Nine.

“Cerberus is a quasi-military corporation dedicated to the protection of Earth and the scientific progress of human civilization,” explained Marc Antony. “You’ve met humans, I’m sure?”

“Yes,” said Scootaloo. “On Omega.”

“I love Omega,” said Bob.

“Yes…you would, Bob. But anyway, you may not realize it, but humans have only entered the galactic theater recently and are at a distinct disadvantage. We, as Cerberus employees, seek to ensure that humanity retains a competitive advantage over hostile alien races.”

“Even though she’s the only human here?” said Scootaloo, pointing at Bob.

“And even then,” said Four, “only marginally.”

Bob shrugged. “You want to know the truth, Scoots? I’m only in this for the heaping piles of dollars that they shovel at me. The whole ‘Humans First’ thing is horse shit. And I know horse shit. What is it now, Marc? Forty percent?”

“Thirty,” said Marc Antony. “Thirty percent of the Alliance population is synths.”

“Are synths,” said Four.

“No, is synths. Are synths…great, now you’ve got me confused.”

Four giggled.

“That is how we found you,” said Nine. “We were tracking that unusual starship based on intelligence we received that it might be useful to our cause.”

“We couldn’t just let you die in there, though,” said Eight. “That isn’t the Cerberus way.”

“So it morphed into a rescue mission. From the looks of it, though, that ship was something we don’t want to be dealing with. Right, Four, Six?”

“Scans indicated an almost incomprehensible structure,” said Four. “And there was an energy signal, but I have no idea what. I’m still running the post-hoc assembly calculations. The smaller ships might have been useful, but the large one…we couldn’t take it without a fleet.”

“I got some good readings inside,” said Six. “I’ll pass them to you tomorrow morning. The creatures on the inside are what intrigue me. I collected a few samples.” Seven tapped her shoulder. “Oh, and Seven ate part of one. She said it tasted very bad.”

“Do you have any thoughts, Ms. Scootaloo?” asked Marc Antony. “You were on board, after all.”

“No,” lied Scootaloo. “We have no information on it. My ship was dispatched to investigate. Which was why I was on it.”

“You failed pretty hard, then,” said Eight.

“Well, if you’re right, my crew got out safely. So it’s not a total failure.” Scootaloo paused. “My ship…I need to get back to it. My crew needs me.”

“Okay,” said Marc Antony. “I can set a course. Where is it?”

“I…” Scootaloo froze. “I don’t know…”

The meal- -if it could even be properly called one- -proceeded, and Scootaloo remained for nearly an hour until it eventually devolved into a hooffight between Eight and Seven over the last morsel of asari arm that remained, with the others pointing and laughing. That gave Scootaloo enough time to come to a conclusion about how she felt concerning them. Although they were not exactly like Twilight, Scootaloo found that she did not dislike them. They were strange and more than a little threatening, but they still seemed to be ponies at heart. She was not so sure about Marc Antony and Bob, though. Marc Antony always seemed like he knew just a little bit more than he was letting on and was somehow smug about it, and Bob, despite her grinning and wide eyes, always seemed just a little bit off. Scootaloo chalked it up to a gut feeling, but she felt like trusting Bob too much would be a bad idea.

At Four’s advice, Scootaloo departed for the lower section of the ship. Despite its slightly curved hallways and numerous rooms, the ship- -which Bob called the ‘192’- -was actually not large, and finding the engine room was only difficult in that the lower sections of the ship were not lit at all.

Eventually, though, Scootaloo managed to stumble through the darkness to the deepest part of the ship’s basement. When she reached the door, it opened automatically, and Scootaloo stepped into the blue-lit room on the other side.

Something moved on the other side. It was impossibly swift, and in the dim light Scootaloo got only the briefest glance of something thin and tall rise and retreat to the shadows at the edge of the room. Scootaloo shuddered, if only because she was not entirely aware of what it had been- -even though she was keenly aware that it had not gone far and was still watching her from the border of the room.

The tall creature had, apparently, been sitting at a small table. It had not been alone, either; sitting across from its now empty chair was the human Oriana.

“Hello?” said Scootaloo.

Oriana looked up, and then set down the sandwich she had been eating. “Scootaloo,” she said. “Come in.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” said Scootaloo.

“You aren’t,” said Oriana. “You must be starving. Here, I think I have some…yes,” she removed a plastic bowl from a package next to her and peeled off the top. “Do you like ramen? All I’ve got is the instant kind.”

“Sure,” said Scootaloo.

“I don’t have any chopsticks, though…or even a fork…”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Scootaloo, holding up one of her hooves. “I can’t use them anyway.”

“Oh. I see.”

Scootaloo pulled herself onto the chair across from Oriana. “I kind of feel bad taking his seat.”

“Oh. You mean Bjorn?” Oriana pointed to the gaunt silhouette in the shadows behind her. “Don’t be. Bjorn is not a fan of strangers. He would prefer to be somewhere where he can watch you.”

Scootaloo looked at the shadow, and felt it looking back at her. On some level, she was curious as to what Bjorn actually looked like- -but on another, she wanted nothing more than to never find out. So, instead, she turned toward the bowl of soup that had been placed in front of her. It was, apparently, literally instant, and was already steaming and warm. It smelled good, and Scootaloo suddenly remembered just how hungry she was.

“I tried eating with the others,” said Scootaloo. “It didn’t work so well.”

Oriana frowned and leaned forward. “You didn’t eat anything they offered, did you?”

“No,” said Scootaloo, surprised by the seriousness in Oriana’s voice. “Why?”

“Because it will make you sick. Very, very sick. Not to mention the moral implications…just never eat anything they give you, okay?”

“I have no desire to,” said Scootaloo. She poked her mouth into the bowl and started slurping up noodles and soup. She felt awkward doing that in front of Oriana, but she was so hungry she could not stop herself.

When she was halfway finished with the bowl, she leaned back and wiped her mouth on her hoof. “Wow, that’s good. What flavor is it?”

“Chicken.”

Scootaloo’s eyes widened, and she suddenly felt sick. “You don’t mean- -there wasn’t actually- -”

“It’s synthetic chicken,” said Oriana. “Don’t worry. I assumed that as a small horse, you were probably a vegetarian.”

Scootaloo leaned back in her chair. She looked around the room, and her eyes settled on the source of the room’s eerie blue light. In the center of the room, in what Scootaloo could only assume the engine, was an object suspended in a blue field. It appeared to be metal, but as Scootaloo watched it shifted, changing its shape repeatedly and both extending and retracting tendril-like connections to the machinery that held it. The field that suspended it was mostly colorless, but the object itself seemed to somehow leak prodigious amounts of blue light from within.

“Is that your engine?” asked Scootaloo.

Oriana looked up at it. “You could say that.”

“Do all alien ships use something like that?”

“That? No, of course not. I don’t even know what that thing is, or where Bob managed to dig it up. It’s some sort of relic.”

“A relic?”

“That’s the only way to explain it.” She turned to the darkness at her side. “Bjorn knows it better than I do.”

“A fragment of a god,” stated the figure in the darkness. The clarity in his voice was startling; Scootaloo had assumed he was not able to speak.

“Bjorn’s people apparently worshipped them eons ago.”

“We still do. And we patiently await their return…”

“And Bjorn is…what, exactly?” asked Scootaloo. “I’ve seen aliens before, but…”

“That’s not an easy question to answer. He is unique. From what I gather, he acts as a living interface to that relic. I don’t know where Bob found him, either. But they are apparently close.”

When Oriana said Bob’s name, she grimaced slightly, as if it left an unpleasant taste in her mouth.

“You don’t sound like you like her very much.”

“Is it really that apparent?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

“Well, I don’t. To put it lightly.”

“I talked to her. She doesn’t seem that bad.”

“But you noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

“You’re young, but I’m guessing you didn’t get as far as you did by being a fool. The way she looks at you, and how you always kind of want to take a step back, and not just because of the smell.”

“Yeah,” admitted Scootaloo. “I noticed it too.”

“Because that’s how she does it. Everything she told you? I can almost guarantee it’s a lie. If she doesn’t want to kill you out right, she waits. Until she can stab you in the back. She is a sadistic cannibal, and a blight on Cerberus’s good name.” Oriana sighed, and set down her sandwich. She leaned back in her chair, and looked at the engine for a long moment, watching it swirl and twist as it assumed novel forms and left them behind, progressing forward toward an incomprehensible state.

“I’m guessing you heard the synth’s spiel about Cerberus,” she said.

“I did,” said Scootaloo. “You’re an organization dedicated to protecting your homeworld. I can respect that.”

“It’s more than that, though.” Oriana paused. “Do you want to know the reason I joined Cerberus, Scootaloo?”

“Sure.”

“It’s because of my sister, Miranda. She was a Cerberus agent during the Reaper War. That was twenty two years ago.”

“You must have barely been born then,” said Scootaloo.

“Hardly. Our father built both of us with the most advanced genetic enhancements available. I’m actually close to forty now.”

“You look good for your age.”

“I know. So did Miranda. I remember her being so pretty, so confident. Not like I was at all. I was just some weak nerd…and then the War came.”

“What happened?”

“What happened? She died in my arms, Scootaloo. Killed by a rogue Cerberus agent, one who should have been her friend. Stabbed in the back. And do you know what the last thing she said to me was? She asked me to pick up where she left of, to finish what she couldn’t. To join Cerberus and protect Earth and our people in her place.”

“That’s terrible,” said Scootaloo. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Oriana, even though Scootaloo saw her wiping her eye discretely. “She didn’t die in vain. The War ended, and I’ve been fighting for her ever since. That’s what Cerberus is. People claim we’re xenophobic, caught in the past. But the galaxy is a dangerous place .Cerberus isn’t about hate, it’s about protecting the people we love.”

Scootaloo recalled what Bob had said before. “And Bob is only here for the money.”

Oriana frowned. “I know. And just looking at that genetic defect makes me sick. She’s the antitheses to me, to everything that Miranda wanted.”

“But you work with her. I saw it. On the Crimson Horizon, you fought together.”

“I fight with her because I have to. Times aren’t what they used to be, Scootaloo.” She sighed. “Cerberus used to be a lot stronger. Things were easier before the War. All you had to do was set up a booth somewhere in the Deep South and people would just flock to join. And then we lost so many. Brave men and women, they just died in hordes. For nothing.”

“Well, you don’t seem to have hordes on this ship. Unless I’m missing them.”

“No, it’s just us. Cerberus doesn’t do the whole ‘hordes of faceless grunts’ thing anymore. The cost was too high, and money is tight. They’ve switched to seeking out ‘special’ individuals. People with mutations, biotics, synths, even aliens. Mercenaries, assassins, criminals, terrorists. People who don’t need training and are willing to kill.” She paused. “It makes me sick…”

“And the alicorns?”

Oriana looked Scootaloo in the eye. Hers were pretty and blue. “Cerberus does what it has to. They were intended as weapons. I don’t know if you can forgive us for that, Scootaloo…”

“Trust me,” said Scootaloo. “Equestria has done so much worse to so many more ponies.” Scootaloo pointed at the shifting metal in the center of the room. “You see that? If this were Equestria, that would be a pony. They harvest them as children, fill them with implants, and put them in a ship to draw energy. Then, when they’re used up in twenty years, they poison them, dump them, and put in a new one.”

“That’s…that’s horrible,” said Oriana.

“I know,” said Scootaloo. “Welcome to the world I have to live in. When you say ‘alicorn weapons’, you just mean ‘soldiers’. At least they get to walk around and smile and laugh. The Cores normally never even get to wake up. One of my best friends is a Core, and another is a purpose-bred slave. Trust me, I’ve seen worse.”

“And you just accept that?”

“I have to. If I can’t, then there’s nothing I can do to protect them.”

“I see,” said Oriana. She smiled. “You know, maybe you and I are more similar than you think.”

“Maybe. I don’t know yet.”

“Of course. You don’t trust us.”

“No. The fact that you have a group of Twilight Sparkles doesn’t help your case, either. What I’m still not so sure on is why, exactly, you bothered to save ME. Why am I here? Why am I so important?”

Oriana paused, considering what to say next. “Frankly, you’re not. You were just part of a run-of-the-mill rescue mission. We don’t intend to use you for anything, and you’re not our prisoner.”

“I need to get back to my ship,” said Scootaloo. “We were on a critical mission, and we need to complete it. It is of critical importance that I relay my information to Princess Twilight.”

“We’ll do the best we can,” said Oriana. “If we are able, we will get you back to your ship. After all, it’s critical that Cerberus maintain a good relationship with Equestria. We’ll help you, and that’s a Cerberus promise.”

“Thanks,” said Scootaloo. She forced a smile, even though what Oriana had said did not make her feel any better.

Chapter 14: Captain Lost

The lights flickered and slowly returned from emergency power. Wintrygust’s eyes adjusted to the new light, and she looked around the former cargo bay that had been partitioned off into the captain’s quarters. Her emotions were not complex, and they never had been, but everything she saw somehow made her so very sad. The empty bed, its blankets still strewn to one side, that she could not bring herself to sleep in again- -or the desk, a half-written letter still pinned to its surface. Everything that Wintrygust saw made her feel ashamed of what she had done, and what she had failed to do.

Scootaloo had never been much for material possessions. Being a captain, even of small ship, normally conferred some level of luxury, but Scootaloo had never taken to them. Wintrygust, as an individual not legally allowed to own property, had never fully comprehended why a real pony would forgo such things, at least at first. Over time, though, she had come to understand Scootaloo better. The younger Pegasus had never wanted wealth, or power, or status. She had only ever joined the navy for the approval of her adoptive sister, Fleet Commander Rainbow Dash.

Wintrygust crossed the room and opened a drawer on the far side of the room. She pulled out an aluminum drawer and rummaged through the various articles inside, many of which were socks- -and some of those socks that only Wintrygust had ever seen Scootaloo wear. Beneath them, though, Wintrygust felt her hoof click against something hard, and she pulled out a picture frame.

It was one of the few things that Scootaloo kept, and in all the time Wintrygust had known her, Scootaloo had never once displayed the photograph. In it, a much younger Scootaloo was standing proudly next to Rainbow Dash, then a Wonderbolt, who was pretending to look serious. Wintrygust smiled at how young they both looked: Scootaloo just a wide-eyed filly, and Rainbow Dash a young stunt-flyer, long before the Crystals took her wing and the painkillers gave way to an unending stream of alcohol.

Wintrygust unfolded the stand on the back of the photograph and clipped it into the designated folder on top of the empty dresser. She stood back and smiled, even though she was crying.

The door behind her slid open.

“Wintrygust?” said Heart.

“Dr. Heart,” said Wintrygust, assuming the happy external mask that she had been trained since birth to assume when she was speaking to racially superior ponies. “Please, come in.”

“I’d love to, but I’d rather not track blood in.” Wintrygust turned around and saw that the yellow unicorn was now stained red and orange by copious amounts of blood on her hooves and on the apron she wore.

“Oh my,” said Wintrygust. “Trixie…”

Heart shook her head. “The situation is not good.”

“How bad?”

“She’s in a terminal spiral. She saved us, but…she doesn’t have much time left. I only managed to stabilize her temporarily. This…” she paused. “This was the situation that Scootaloo asked me to contact her about. Not that it would help. I almost lost her just putting her back into the casing. Removing her would be lethal.”

“How much time does she have left?”

“Days. A week at most. Just reintegrating her into the ship’s systems will take at least forty eight hours. We won’t have long-range communication until then.”

“Thank you, Dr. Heart.”

Heart stayed in the doorway for a moment, lingering. “You did everything you could.”

“If I had just been a little stronger, maybe I could have taken you both…”

Heart shook her head. “No. You barely made it with me.” She looked down at the floor. “But I understand. If you could have made the choice…you would have left me, wouldn’t you?”

Wintrygust shook her head. “I couldn’t have made that choice. I just…I couldn’t…”

“Then be glad Scootaloo made it for you,” said Heart. She stayed only a moment more before departing, tracking Trixie’s blood through the hallway on her way back to her laboratory.

Several minutes seemed to pass, or perhaps several hours. Then, finally, Wintrygust forced herself to leave the room. As she did, she turned out the lights and closed the door.

“You shouldn’t be in there,” said a voice behind her. Wintrygust turned to find her red eyes level with a pair of blue ones.

“Ensign Blossomforth,” said Wintrygust. “How can I help you?”

“Don’t go in there anymore,” said Blossomforth. “That’s a start.”

“But why?”

“Because it’s not your room.”

“No,” said Wintrygust, trying to stay pleasant but getting increasingly annoyed. Blossomforth was the last pony she wanted to see right now. “It belongs to Scootaloo.”

“Belonged,” corrected Blossomforth.

Wintrygust’s eyes narrowed. “With all due respect, there is no evidence that the Captain is currently deceased.”

“Oh, yes,” said Blossomforth, producing a fake smile. “Because she was still alive when you left her in hostile territory.”

“It wasn’t me who left her,” snapped Wintrygust, her façade breaking down completely. “If you had just waited! I could have gone back!”

“We were under heavy enemy fire. Outmared, outgunned. I did what I had to.”

“And so did I. And that doesn’t make it right.”

“How do you think I feel? I’m the one who is going to have to tell the Fleet Commander that a breeder’s stupid mistake cost her sister’s life.”

Wintrygust blinked. “Why would you tell her?”

Blossomforth smiled, having finally reached the reason she had sought out Wintrygust. “I’m the next ranking officer. I’m in command now.”

“What?” said Wintrygust.

“Yes. And as soon as we get the Core back on line, we are going to limp back to Equestria and cut our losses.”

“But the mission! Scootaloo! We need to get her back, and find the Crimson Horizon!”

“Your opinion is noted,” said Blossomforth dismissively. “But we’re still going back to Equestria.” She started to walk away.

“Where they’ll gut this ship and move you to a better one, I’m sure.”

“What was that, breeder?” said Blossomforth, suddenly turning around.

“Noth- -no. Not nothing.” Wintrygust frowned, forcing herself to go against her instinctive programming. “Scootaloo expressly stated that I was to take command should she be incapacitated.”

“YOU?” Blossomforth burst into laughter. “You? Seriously? You realize she was joking, right?”

“She was not joking. The command of this ship should go to me.”

“To you? Why don’t we give it to the toaster? Or a gravity plate? Or the CORE?” Blossomforth stepped close to Wintrygust. “Scootaloo treated you real well. Way better than you deserved. But she was just faking it, you know.”

“No,” said Wintrygust, feeling her anger- -and doubt- -building. “No, she was my friend. IS my friend.”

“You’re not even a real pony. You’re just property, a slab of walking meat who would probably have been better off getting sold for laboratory research. Do you know what you were to her?” Blossomforth leaned in even closer, to where her nose was nearly touching Wintrygust’s. “You were her sex toy. And that’s it.” She smiled. “Hey, maybe if you’re lucky they’ll transfer you to me instead of to the knackery.” She lifted her hoof and stroked Wintrygust’s face. “Maybe you can help me with my next estrus? It’s all you’re good for, after all.”

Wintrygust slapped Blossomfroth’s hoof away from her. “What is your problem? I understand that you don’t like me, but this is excessive. Even for you.”

“Why? Because you walk around here, acting like you’re an actual pony. You’re not. You’re just a breeder. You were grown on a farm. Your parents were bred together like animals. You were sold into the navy. You are PROPERTY. It’s a bucking insult to us real ponies that I even have to look at filth like you.”

Wintrygust felt herself breathing heavily. She had never felt like this before. Even when Rainbow Dash used to beat her, she had always just accepted it as she had been trained to. She tried to control it- -she knew what the correct thing was, to let Blossomforth have command, to follow orders- -but instead she felt herself saying something completely different.

“It’s true,” she said. “I am just property. But you are my subordinate. So what does that make you?”

Blossomforth’s eyes narrowed, and one of them twitched. “So you actually want to challenge me for command? Well then, come on. Do it.” She gestured to her face. “Come and take it. Hit me, you cow.”

Wintrygust felt her hoof shaking, but every ounce of millennia of breeding was telling her not to move. She could not do it.

“I knew it,” said Blossomforth. “You can’t, can you? If you were a real pony, you could.” She chuckled dryly. “You’re worse than that failure Scootaloo. To be honest, I don’t even mind that you killed her. She deserved what she got. That little- -”

Blossomforth was interrupted by a sudden and powerful white hoof slamming against her left cheekbone. Her eyes widened in surprise as she was knocked back.

“Don’t talk about her like that!” screamed Wintrygust. She felt tears streaming down her face as she leapt on Blossomforth.

“Damn breeder! Get off me!”

Wintrygust struck Blossomforth again, this time in the side of her neck. Blossomforth recoiled, but shifted Wintrygust back and punched her repeatedly in the stomach. Wintrygust felt her wind leave her, but spending her early life with Rainbow Dash had more than taught her how to take a punch and how to ignore pain. She sank her teeth into one of Blossomforth’s wings and forced her to the ground.

As a breeder, Wintrygust was by default more muscular than a normal pony. That proved not to be much of an advantage, though, because Blossomforth had an exactly identical physique in addition to naval hoof-to-hoof training. Despite this, after several minutes of rolling, screaming, mane-pulling and wing fluttering, Wintrygust still managed to get Blossomforth off balance. As soon as she was, she drove her hoof into her nose and face again and again.

Blossomforth twisted, using her abnormal flexibility to kick Wintrygust in the chest. Wintrygust was thrown back, but Blossomforth collapsed to the ground in their mutual pile of blood and hair. Both of them stood, breathing hard, each wondering if the fight would continue.

Wintrygust slowly started to approach the other pony, but then felt something crunch beneath her hoof. She picked up her hoof and looked down, only to see the remains of a large blue contact lens on the floor. At first, she did not understand how that had gotten there, or why- -but then quickly looked back to Blossomforth.

Blossomforth looked up at Wintrygust with one blue eye beside one that was crimson red. Then she saw the broken contact lens on the floor and tried to cover her red eye, but it was already too late.

Wintrygust gaped. “You’re…”

“Don’t you dare say it,” said Blossomforth, attempting to stand but failing.

“You’re like me!”

“I’m NOTHING like you!” spat Blossomforth, sending a spray of blood across the floor.

Wintrygust crossed the floor and offered her hoof to Blossomforth. Blossomforth kicked it away.

“Those eyes,” said Wintrygust. “The white coat…you’re a breeder.”

“NO,” said Blossomforth, firmly. She tried to stand again, and this time rose shakily to her feet. “I’m not. But my mother was. She was filth, like you.”

“A hybrid?” Wintrygust shook her head. “That’s impossible. There are no hybrids. Mating with one of us is punishable by death.”

“Unless your father is close with Filthy Rich. Or is Filthy Rich, for all I know. Or care. Whoever he was, he was an idiot who couldn’t even be bothered to put in a sterile mare. And that slut probably just stood there and took it. She probably enjoyed it, too.”

“She was your mother,” snapped Wintrygust. “And one of my sisters. As are you. Don’t talk about her like that.”

Blossomforth glared at Wintrygust. “I am NOT your sister. And my mother, she did this to me. She hid it until it was too late.” She gestured toward her hair. “What do you think they did when a breeder gave birth to a pony with a mane like this?”

“They couldn’t sell you,” said Wintrygust, suddenly understanding. “Not a hybrid. But that meant you would have to live life…”

“Looking like YOU. Everything I’ve ever done, they’ve always known. Every ‘friend’ who found out. Every superior I’ve ever had. I’ve done everything PERFECTLY, and they still stuck me on this ship with you failures.”

Wintrygust sighed. The situation had changed, and she found that she could no longer sustain her anger. She took another step toward the other pony. “You are hurt,” she said. “I need to get you to the infirmary.”

Blossomforth took advantage of Wintrygust’s proximity and sucker punched her in the face. Wintrygust felt her head turn, but did not react.

“Come on,” said Blossomforth. “You didn’t have a problem doing it before. After what I just said to you…”

“Sisters must never knowingly fight sisters. That is not our way. If you had actually learned what your mother had to teach you, you would know this.”

“I’m not your sister.” Blossomforth looked at Wintrygust, and then turned away, limping down the hall. “Have your damn command. But I still hate you. And every one of your kind.”

Wintrygust watched her go, and then rubbed her jaw. It was starting to hurt, as were all the injuries she had sustained. Something inside her hurt more, though, and she did not understand why.

She looked down at the blood and pulled-out hair on the floor, and then started down the hall in the opposite direction as Blossomforth had gone. As the acting commander of the RENS Failure, the responsibility of reporting the situation to the Princess now fell to her, and she would need to clean herself up before she had to deliver the bad news.

As she walked, she suddenly noticed a completely pink pony who had apparently been watching the events unfold in silence. She was quietly munching on a bowl of caramel popcorn.

“Who are- -where did you get- -” Wintrygust took a breath, and then walked past the pony. “You know what? I don’t even care right now. Just clean up when you’re done.”

“Okie dokie lokie, captain,” replied the clingon. Her last word made Wintrygust shiver. She felt as though she had just stolen something valuable from an even more precious friend.

Rainbow Dash awoke suddenly, once again screaming. It had been the same dream that she had nearly every night: the burning ship, the purging atmosphere, and her standing alone on the bridge bleeding out as the crystal swarm poured across space. Of the two reccuring dreams she had, though, it was far from the worst. The one in the hospital where she had woken up after the battle was always far worse. On those days, she would wake up crying.

She lifted her head from the table she had been leaning on and reached behind her, running her hoof along the scarred junction where the base of her left wing gave way to an all-white one. It was still there, where it always would be.

Then the headache hit, and Rainbow Dash winced. She immediately reached for a half-empty bottle of distilled cider that she had left unfinished from the night before and promptly drained it. The effect was minimal, and Rainbow Dash threw the bottle against the wall, shattering it. Equestrian alcohol was just not potent enough anymore. She had asked Rarity to return with more of the alien beverage ryncol, but Rainbow Dash had yet to receive any so far.

Despite the lack of proper alcohol, Rainbow Dash searched her room for any open bottles, drinking them as she found them until she finally needed to open a new one. By the time that one was halfway drained, her headache was starting to fade and her outlook on the world had improved enough for her to face another day of continual warfare. She straightened her uniform and stepped out into the hallway.

She slowly began making her way to the bridge. Her hoofsteps echoed off Harmony’s high-ceilinged corridors, and it was the only sound audible aside from the almost imperceptible hum of the air circulation system and the occasional low, precise clicking of one of the violet-colored mechanical alicorns responsible for maintaining the Harmony. There was no sound of other ponies because there were no others. Despite its immense size, the Harmony was devoid of any life apart from Rainbow Dash. The miles of hallways, the cargo bays, even the hangers that had once held so many active fighters- -they were all empty. This was her command center, from where she dictated the course of the entire Equestrian Fleet- -and in that capacity, both figuratively and literally, Rainbow Dash was alone.

Even her position had become a sham. Five years prior, she had defied the will of a Princess only to have her position taken by her own sister. The effect on her career had been devastating. It had taken every bit of political capital she possessed to keep control of the Fleet, but much of the respect she had possessed before had vanished. She was acutely aware that much of the actual tactical maneuvering was now in the hooves of the Secondary Commanders, and Rainbow Dash’s own participation largely relied on assistance from Twilight.

It felt like hours before Rainbow Dash actually reached the bridge, a large empty balcony extending into a cavernous room with an enormous window. On the other side was space, black and inky, dotted by stars and the haze of the Equestrian galaxy that could only be seen from deep space. Rainbow Dash sat down and watched it for several minutes, wondering when exactly the last time that she had looked out at it and seen any real beauty had been.

“Aww, Dashie, you kook down,” said a voice beside Rainbow Dash. Rainbow Dash turned, expecting to see Twilight’s translucent holographic body beside her, but instead found her face inches away from a pink pony with enormous blue eyes.

“GAH!” cried Rainbow Dash, fluttering into the air and jumping back from the face- -only to bump into another identical pony.

“Yeah, Dashie, why the long face?”

“I think it’s because she’s a pony!” whispered the other one. They both giggled.

“Twilight! TWILIGHT!” screamed Rainbow Dash, backing away from the pair.

Beside her, a magical construct assembled itself into a hollow, semi-abstract representation of what the Harmony’s Core most likely would look like had she not been permanently imprisoned in a crystalline casing for the greater part of two decades. She flexed her translucent wings, and her blank holographic eyes looked around as though they could actually see.

“Oh,” she said when she saw the pair of pink ponies.

“Twilight!” cried Rainbow Dash. “You have clingons!”

Twilight sighed. “I know.”

“Do something!”

“I’ve tried. I can’t get them to leave.”

“It’s in the name,” said one of the pink ponies. “You know, ‘cling-on’?”

“It certainly isn’t because our foreheads are all ridgey,” said the other.

“I even gassed the ship with phosgene,” groaned Twilight. “I probably got ninety percent of them, but the remainder seems to have become resistant.”

“Phosgene? When the buck did you do that?”

“Oh. You were asleep at the time.”

“Great,” muttered Rainbow Dash. “I just wanted to be alone, and now this…” She pointed at one of the pink ponies. “Right. You’re Pinkie A,” she said, “And you’re Pinkie B.”

“Actual names?”

“I think we just got promoted!”

“Just wait until we tell Pinkies W through AG! They’ll be so proud!”

“Wait, how many are you?”

Both of the Pinkie’s faces scrunched. “Just us two.”

“I think I’ll just remove these two,” said Twilight. There was a low hum as her magic charged throughout the ship, and the Pinkies clutched each other in fright.

“Don’t bother,” said Rainbow Dash. “As weird as it sounds…oh Celestia, I can’t believe I’m saying this…I probably need the company. Even if they are vermin.”

“Hey! I’m not a vermin!”

“No, but I think I might be.”

“You totally are!”

Rainbow Dash produced a flask from her pocket and took a sip, pretending to be adjusting her wing. Twilight did not seem to notice- -or, at this point, pretended not to. “So…what’s the galactic situation today, Twi?”

“The campaign against the Carbanado revolution is progressing within expected parameters with ten percent lower than expected casualty rate. They have been almost entirely ousted from the Cherry Cluster as well as outer-ring section V. All my simulations save one say that we will have conquered the Dog Star within the year.”

“And the other simulation?”

“That the revolution will succeed in petitioning assistance of the colonial defense force on Open-Ceres.”

“Send a section of the eighth subfleet to occupy the planet,” said Rainbow Dash.

“We can’t,” said Twilight. “As I told you last week, the eighth subfleet took heavy losses in the Parallel Spiral region. Saboaughe is expected. A new shipment of Cores has been sent, but installation will take at least another two weeks.”

“Then sent the thirty-third. They’re in that area.”

“No, no they’re not. Not since last month. They were diverted toward planned evacuation of the red giant Duskglow.”

“I thought we had that covered.”

“We did, until you redirected all the industrial transport ships to resupply the blockade at the galactic edge. A blockade that I have since canceled.”

“Canceled! Twilight, that’s the only thing protecting us from the Crystal Empire!”

“Which we DON’T NEED. Not when those ships could be stopping pirates in the colonies or Chaos raids.”

“She’s got you there, Dashie,” added Pinkie A.

“You don’t have the authority to order MY Fleet around!”

“I wouldn’t have to if you would do your job.”

Rainbow Dash was about to either complain or give up and stomp back to her room when Twilight suddenly turned away.

“I’m receiving a message from Scootaloo.”

“Scootaloo?” said Rainbow Dash. Any thought she had about returning to her room suddenly vanished. “Put it on screen!”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “You do not give me orders, Rainbow Dash. Not now, not ever. And besides. I thought you never wanted to see your ‘sister’ again after she took your position and averted an apocalyptic war with the Citadel aliens. A position, mind you, that she would still have if she had not ceded it back to you voluntarily.”

“You know I couldn’t forgive what she did,” snapped Rainbow Dash. “Not without losing every ounce of authority I had left! She basically stabbed me in the wings, Twilight!”

Twilight leaned closer. “Yes. And I know exactly how that feels.”

She snapped away from Rainbow Dash and stomped to the edge of the bridge platform, apparently forgetting that as a massless hard-magic projection, her hooves did not actually make sound.

“You understand, don’t you, Pinkie?”

“You mean about throwing my sister under the bus to keep my career nice and shiny only to succumb to chronic alcoholism and lose everything you ever valued?” Pinkie B giggled. “Totally. I would definitely do that.”

“She would,” said Pinkie A. “I’d know. I am her.”

“Well, what would you know,” muttered Rainbow Dash. “Expecting clingons to understand…”

At the edge of the bridge balcony, Twilight focused her energy onto the empty space between her hologram and the front window. The air shifted, converting to an array of violet-colored geometric shapes that began to shimmer with different colors and refractory patterns as they assumed realistic colors and condensed into a large holographic representation of a pony.

Rainbow Dash assumed her most serious and stoic of expressions, expecting the hellish experience of having to once again face her shame head-on without being nearly drunk enough for it. Instead, though, the pony that appeared was not Scootaloo. Instead of a pair of violet eyes staring back, Rainbow Dash found herself looking into a pair of large red ones emerging from a white face and framed by equally red hair- -and sitting in the Captain’s chair.

“Who the hay are you?” shouted Rainbow Dash. “And what are you doing in that chair? Get out!”

The breeder just continued to stare for a moment. “Fleet Commander,” she said at last. “I am 3789- -no. I am Wintrygust.” She paused, and her expression changed subtly. Her eyes seemed to quiver, and Rainbow Dash instantly knew that something was wrong. She had owned a tremendous number of breeders, and she had never seen one look quite like that. “And I am…acting Captain of the CN12-88B.”

“Oh no,” whispered Twilight.

“No,” said Rainbow Dash. “YOU are property. You can’t be- -” The implication suddenly hit her, and she froze as though she had been punched in the gut. “Scoot…Scootaloo…”

The breeder nodded, and the horror that Rainbow Dash felt immediately shifted into rage. “You damn whore!” she screamed. “What did you do to her?! I’ll have your wings torn off for this!”

“No, you won’t,” said Twilight.

“Twilight! Come on! Scootaloo- -”

“Is MY Priestess. And my responsibility. This does not concern the navy, and this does NOT concern you.”

Rainbow Dash brought her face to within inches of Twilight’s blank, sightless holographic eyes. “She is my sister,” she hissed. “And this DOES concern me!”

“Really? Because you haven’t been acting like it.” Twilight turned back to the breeder. “Wintrygust, was it? Report. Tell me what happened.”

“We encountered the aberrant vessel as planned. Upon scanning, we detected no life forms and came to the conclusion that it was likely automated. Captain Scootaloo led the away-team consisting of myself and Dr. Lemon Heart…”

“Don’t use my first name!” shouted somepony off camera. Wintrygust’s red irises shifted toward the location of the shout, and then back to Twilight.

“Once on board, we attempted to reach the vessel’s Core, only to be ambushed by a group of unidentified aliens that our scanners had failed to detect. Scootaloo was separated from the group.”

“And you left her behind!” cried Rainbow Dash.

“And I am prepared to take full responsibility for that. Unwing me, if you must. Execute me. I surely deserve it.”

“Nopony is unwinging anypony,” said Twilight. “So Scootaloo is…”

“Currently MIA.”

“Tell me,” said Twilight. “Under your assessment, what is the chance she is still alive?”

Twilight had asked the question that Rainbow Dash had not even dared to think, and it felt like a knife cutting through her heart. “She’s Scootaloo, Twi. She’s alive.”

“I cannot make that prediction,” said Wintrygust, somberly. “We came under heavy fire and were forced to retreat before I could return to her. However...”

“What?”

“We did receive emergency assistant from another vessel.”

“Another vessel?” Twilight seemed confused.

Wintrygust tapped at her interface, and her image partitioned, separating between a representation of herself and a three-dimensional representation of the ship in question, as well as the data associated with it.

“Readings indicate that it does not have an active Core, meaning it is most likely alien,” said Wintrygust. “Whatever it is made of, we could not read through it. We did find, however, that it emitted a characteristic biphasic graviton wave as it moved.”

Twilight’s eyes widened, and she stepped back. Rainbow Dash saw that, despite being only a representation of the actual Twilight, the hologram was shaking and slowly raising her hoof to her chest- -to where the real Twilight, suspended in crystal in the center of the Harmony, had five small round scars in her body.

“No,” she said. “No…”

“What is it?” said Wintrygust. “Princess, do you recognize this ship?”

“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash darkly.

Twilight cleared her throat- -or made a sound similar to it- -trying to regain her composure. “That ship…it is operated by an alien organization called Cerberus. Its owner…” Twilight clutched her chest even more tightly. “Five years ago, its owner attempted to assassinate me. I was nearly killed, and my medical records indicate that she removed a substantial amount of bone marrow from me while I was unconscious. Celestia knows what they used it for…”

Wintrygust’s pupils narrowed. “Cerberus…the blue-eyed woman.”

“How could you know about that?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“Because I was there,” said Wintrygust. “I saw her. And I saw what she did to my brothers. Brothers that YOU gave her to have her way with.”

“I had a lot of breeders back then,” said Rainbow Dash. “And you guys get ugly when you get old. I had a lot removed. I didn’t keep track of them all. I can’t say I remember.” She did, however, remember the blue-eyed Cerberus woman well. Her hideous laugh, the stench of meat and ionization that surrounded her, her greasy hair, her horrible smile- -Rainbow Dash had confronted her and been horrified to learn just how vicious the human race was. Had Fluttershy not intervened, Rainbow Dash would have lost her remaining good wing- -and possibly a lot more than that.

“Why would she be there? HOW would she be there?” asked Twilight.

“I do not have any suggestions,” said Wintrygust. “But the fact that she seemed so interested in Scootaloo worries me much, much more. However, I doubt that the Captain was her primary target.”

“You think she was after the ship,” said Twilight. She took a breath, forcing herself to move past the loss of Scootaloo, at least for the moment. “What did you find?”

“Dr. Heart was able to confirm the Core identity,” said Wintrygust. “The ship in question has been identified as the Crimson Horizon.”

Rainbow Dash felt her breath catch. “That’s impossible,” she said. “The Crimson Horizon was destroyed.”

On the screen, the camera zoomed out, showing a more complete picture of the bridge. On one side, a cerulean pony was slumped over her controls and snoring loudly. In the background, near a nonfunctional rack of rear controls, a pink clingon waved. Pinkies A and B, suddenly excited, waved back.

Rainbow Dash pointed. “You’re probably going to want to kill that before it lays eggs.”

“Too late for that!” giggled the clingon next to Wintrygust.

A yellow unicorn stepped into the angle. “Princess,” she said, bowing.

“Dr. Heart,” said Twilight. “Is this report true?”

“It is.” Lemon Heart opened an interface with her magic and transmitted her findings to Twilight. The image of the Cerberus ship was replaced with a much more detailed account and diagram of a much different starship.

“Sweet Celestia,” whispered Twilight.

“What…the buck…” said Rainbow Dash. Even without advanced training in design, she knew how to read a scan- -and nothing in the Equestrian Fleet, not even the several secret projects that were being prepared for the oncoming Second Crystal War, came close to what was displayed before her.

“That isn’t an Equestrian design.”

“No,” said Heart. “The external architecture is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. It matches no known design of ship, present, ancient, or supposed. I can’t even figure out exactly what it’s made of. But it contains pieces of material from the original ship, and the Core has a ninety-six percent homology rating to Sunset Shimmer. I know that ship, Princess Twilight Sparkle. And that IS the Crimson Horizon.”

“And you left Scootaloo on that?” said Rainbow Dash, softly.

“Yes,” said Wintrygust.

“Only because she had no choice,” said Heart. “Wintrygust could only pull one of us out, and Scootaloo ordered that it be me.”

Rainbow Dash could not help but smile, as inappropriate as it was.

“And this ship? You said there were no life signs, but that vessel is over one fifty times the volume of the Harmony. It has to have a crew.”

“With all due respect,” said Wintrygust. “You don’t. And it appeared to be populated by…things.”

“Although we could not determine if they were the crew or some manner of infestation. They did not appear sentient. Of course, then again, two thirds of the pony population does not either.”

“We’re not even sentient,” volunteered Pinkie A. “And we can talk.”

“And its course? What was it trying to do?”

“It is moving at immense speed,” said Wintrygust. “At its projected course, it will enter the Crystal Galaxy within fifty hours.”

“That is deeply concerning,” said Twilight. “I will need to warn my brother immediately. And it only gets worse that Cerberus was interested in it too. This situation is very, very bad.”

“But you already knew,” said Heart.

“What?” said Rainbow Dash.

“Why else would you have sent me out here? You knew this ship was the Crimson Horizon the whole time, didn’t you?”

“Twilight? What does she mean by that?”

“I had an inkling. I needed confirmation.”

“And you killed my sister for CONFIRMATION?”

“She’s not necessarily dead!”

“Oh, so, what? She’s been stolen by Cerberus, now? Because that’s the only other option, Twilight!”

“I understand, Rainbow Dash. I really do. But in all honesty, we have bigger problems right now.” Twilight looked up at Wintrygust. “You need to return to Equestria immediately. I have the information I need- -”

“No,” said Wintrygust.

“What did you just say, breeder?” said Rainbow Dash.

“I said no. With all due respect, Princess, there is more we can do. Our mission is not complete. If you can move us into position, we can continue to observe. We may be able to decipher its purpose, goal, creator, a weak point- -something. Because right now, all we know is the identity of its Core. Our intelligence is sorely lacking on this subject.”

“You want to try to recover Scootaloo,” said Rainbow Dash.

Wintrygust nodded. “If we can. Or receive confirmation that…” She could not finish her sentence. “Our Core is nearly depleted. She is dying, but we have enough energy to perform this task. With your permission, Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

“You do realize that’s a suicide mission,” said Rainbow Dash.

The cyan pony who had previously been sleeping suddenly snorted and awoke suddenly. “Suicide mission? What?”

“We are prepared to do whatever we are able,” said Wintrygust. “As Scootaloo would.”

Twilight seemed to consider this for a moment- -which, with her hyperaccelerated Core mind, was probably the equivalent of several hours to a normal pony. When she had finished, she looked up at Wintrygust. “Permission is granted. But do not engage. Whatever you do, stay at a safe distance. You are not prepared for a fight. Let my sister-in-law handle that. If it even comes down to that.”

“Twilight, you can’t seriously be relying on Cadence! With one of our most powerful Cores- -”

“I trust Cadence absolutely,” snapped Twilight. She muted the communication. “Far more than I trust you, Rainbow. Cadence didn’t violate me while I was unconscious and try to start a war.”

“Get off your high earth pony, Twilight. You’re a Core. And I did to you what we do with EVERY single other Core.”

“That doesn’t make it right!”

“No,” said Rainbow Dash, calmly. “But it does make you a hypocrite.”

Twilight unmuted the transmission. “Sorry,” she said. “I had to have a word with Rainbow Dash.”

“They totally have WAY too much sexual tension,” whispered Pinkie A.

“You have my permission to continue at your discursion, Wintrygust,” said Twilight.

“Really? You’re giving authority of one of my ships to a damn BREEDER?”

“Breeder, pony. You are all just mortals to me. I care very little for such pointless politics.” Twilight looked up at the screen. “Prepare your ship for transport. I will move you into position as soon as you are ready.”

“Yes, Princess,” said Wintrygust. Her image faded and separated into monocolored violet fractals as Twilight disconnected the communication link and allowed the hologram to fade.

Rainbow Dash watched the hologram dissipate, and then turned to Twilight. “I don’t like this.”

“You don’t have a choice. This is out of jurisdiction.”

“Listen to me, Twilight. As your friend.”

“I don’t even know if I’m still able to call you that.”

“Even if I’m not, there’s a reason why I’m Fleet Commander. What you’re doing, it isn’t a good idea. We’re already too deep here. Wouldn’t it just be better…”

“To let the Crimson Horizon plow into the Crystal Galaxy?”

Rainbow Dash sighed. “It’s not our problem.”

“Yes, it is. They are our allies now.”

“No, Twilight. They really aren’t.”

“Okay then, so say we don’t. So how exactly do you think they’ll react to having a formerly Equestrian ship ram into their defenses?”

“I really don’t like getting my defenses rammed,” said Pinkie A.

“She actually does,” whispered Pinkie B.

“Do not!”

“They’ll most likely just destroy it,” said Rainbow Dash, shrugging.

“No,” said Twilight. “No they won’t.”

Rainbow Dash paused, noting a shift in Twilight’s facial expression. Even as a Core and a hologram, she was easy to read. “You know something, don’t you?”

“I know a lot of things. You may be the Fleet Commander, but I’m a Princess.”

“That ship. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Yes.”

“Damn it, Twi, tell me! I can’t do my job if you don’t!”

“You hardly EVER do your job!” Twilight took a deep simulated breath. “But no. You’re right. That ship…it is, or was, a porotype. For me. And its Core was one of Celestia’s students, like I was.”

“Her student? Twilight, are you saying she’s like you? An alicorn?”

Twilight shook her head. “The process for making an alicorn had not yet been established at the time. Celestia did not know how. But…”

“But?”

“Celestia took an active role in designing the Harmony. She had almost nothing to do with the construction of the Crimson Horizon. It was designed and built by government scientists led by Sunset Shimmer.”

“Sunset Shimmer? You mean the Core. Twilight, a Core can’t- -”

Twilight glared at Rainbow Dash, and Rainbow Dash understood. “You can’t be serious…”

“Celestia didn’t talk much about her. But something…something was wrong with her, Rainbow. There’s a reason why I became a Princess and she didn’t. If it really is her, she’s at least as powerful as me. Perhaps even more so. And what she’s planning…I don’t even know.”

“I get it,” said Rainbow Dash. She took a deep breath. “What can we do to stop her?”

Twilight was silent for a long moment. “At this point…I don’t even know if we can.”

Chapter 15: In the Empire, Part 1

Like almost everything in the Crystal Empire, the accommodations were made almost solidly out of crystal. The suite that Starlight and her friends had been provided had walls that appeared not to have been carved out of crystal so much as grown, and even with a matte surface finish they still glittered and sparkled luxuriously.

For Darien, of course, this only led to further agitation. The spaces were large enough for him to move through without excessive difficulty- -something he had been warned was always a problem in societies built by exceedingly tiny aliens- -but the lack of trees and nature was disconcerting, and the sheer amount of strange crystal was overwhelming for a being who had never even traveled farther than the market where his family sold their crops.

Still, it was Zedok who had told him to come, and she was superior to him. Therefore, he did his best to stay calm, in part by pacing through halls and empty rooms of the space that he and the others had been given.

At one point, he stopped in a room that appeared to be dedicated toward dining. Bored, he opened a drawer- -being careful not to tear it off, as the crystal looked quite delicate- -and found that it was filled with forks. He picked one of the tiny utensils and examined it.

“Why would tiny-horse need such thing?” he asked to himself. “What practical purpose is served?”

“Suggestion: it is used to eat.”

Darien jumped so high that he nearly reached the ceiling, spilling utensils and appliances as he instinctively tried and failed to climb onto the counter. He turned around in fright to see a silver-colored quadruped pulling itself out from beneath the table that filled the center of the room.

“Geth!” he wheezed. “PLEASE do not do that!”

“Do what?” asked Armchair, tilting his head slightly.

“Also that. Not that. You are…unnerving. But, mainly, do not sneak up on me. I cannot smell you, not easily. Oh, my hearts. So much beating.”

“Ah,” said Armchair, considering. “Yes. Our sudden appearance is startling. And our nature is, perhaps, confusing to you? Geth records indicate that your people are barely post-industrial. A synthetic life-form must seem strange indeed.”

“Correct. But I can tolerate you. Just stop frightening me.”

“If you are afraid of us, then how to we stop…oh. Alteration of behavior.” It pointed to its chest, the part of it that was not metal. “We are already developing geometrically with Arachne’s help. Indeed, yahg-Darien, you are helping greatly.”

“Just Darien is fine.”

“Indeed, Just-Darien, you are helping greatly.”

Darien groaned, and crossed the room. He looked out the window on the far side of the wall, down at the streets filled with crystalline horses and several other types of creature going about their business. He had thought he was mentally prepared for aliens. Zedok, Fenok, and Lyra were already strange, but this was just too much.

“A question, however,” said Armchair. “Our records also indicate that the yahg are normally highly violent in nature. Of course, our records are not always accurate. We once recorded that a space-hamster Councilor had been elected by the space-hamster federation, when in fact, the space-hamster federation had not yet held any manner of elections for the position.”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

“Neither can we.”

“And none of those were questions. Merely statements.”

“Ah. Yes. Rephrasing: why are you not trying to kill us?”

“Why? Largely because your perception of violence is…simplistic. And your impression of us is wrong.”

“Did the yahg not slaughter the Council delegation sent to offer peaceful coexistence?”

“No. A group of soldiers responded to an alien invasion, and after those same aliens- -the small ones, the salarians- -have a history of abducting and torturing my people. The response was predictable.”

“But you are not observed as having any violent tendencies.”

“Because I do not. Such is not common in my caste, and disagrees with the Column.”

“Column?”

“Translation. Poor. Adequate, though. It is…religion? No. Ideology.”

“We do not understand. Yahg believe structures are not part of our records.”

“Not a belief. A truth. The Column is stratified. Some yahg are born to rule. A great many, even, and they fight over that position. Me, and my kind, no. We are not born to rule. We were born farmers. I, and we, have no desire to transcend our caste. No desire to challenge. Instead, to excel within our level and be content even at the lowest rank.”

Armchair paused to consider, processing the data. “The concept you describe is not unlike the human belief in dharma. We understand its implications, but cannot relate.”

“Surely you have a similar hierarchy in your society.”

“No. We have no society. Only consensus. All geth are one voice of many. All equal. All speaking, arguing, discussing. None higher or lower. We are many, and become one.”

“Zedok explained it to me, once,” said Darien, not admitting that he had not understood. “How many are you, then, Armchair?”

Armchair paused. “Unknown,” he finally said.

There was a knock on the doorframe to the room- -or, since it was crystal, a kind of high tinkling sound. Several of Darien’s eyes rotated and identified a familiar blue face.

“Boss,” he said, approaching Zedok.

Zedok was leaning on the wall and smiled. “Explaining the Column to the geth?”

“We are learning!” said Armchair.

“You know what happens when geth learn, right?”

Armchair paused for a long moment. Then exclaimed “death to quarians!”

“What is a quarian?” asked Darien, confused.

“Pure, distilled evil,” said Armchair.

“Yeah,” said Zedok. “Quarians are jerks. And nobody likes them.”

“But I like everybody,” said Darien.

“Aww. Of course you do!” Zedok hugged him as best as she could considering the height difference. She then sat down at the table, pushing her chair back at an angle. “So, hey, do they have food here or what? Or is that crystal too?”

“I can’t even tell,” said Darien. “And why do the ponies have forks?”

“To eat. Duh. How hard do you think it is to grab food with hooves? Of course you need a fork.”

“Oh. That doesn’t…never mind.”

“What about you, Armchair? Did you find food?”

“We did. But then we ate it.”

“But you’re a geth!”

“Now that we have rachni organic components, we need to periodically eat. It has been an unusual experience. The algorithms necessary to differentiate ‘food’ from ‘edible’ are surprisingly elusive.”

“Wow, real biological functions. If this keeps up, we’ll need to get you a lady geth.”

“We are a lady geth.”

Zedok coughed and nearly fell backward out of her chair. “What- -how- -WHAT?”

“That was a joke,” said Armchair.

“And by your reaction, boss,” said Darien. “I think it may have been successful.”

“Yeah, yeah. You got me. But seriously…are you a dude geth or a chick geth?”

“We are geth.”

“That’s what I thought.” Zedok looked up at Darien. “Darien, have you seen Lyra? She seemed agitated, and I want to check on her.”

“No,” said Darien.

“Oh.” Zedok rocked her chair back and forth for a moment, but then became aware of the sound of footsteps in the hall outside the room. “Freaky,” she said, “you say her name and she shows up…”

Except that the footsteps did not sound like those of mechanical, digitigrade claws. They were softer and more even. Zedok shivered. It was as though someone was trying to sneak up on them.

Her slight apprehension vanished, however, when Jack entered the room.

“Jack!” said Zedok, standing up. “You made it back! We were getting worried. Well, Darien was. I wasn’t. Because you are, you know, YOU. I knew…” Zedok paused, and her apprehension immediately returned. “Jack? What happened to your hair?”

The younger version of Jack stared at Zedok. It was more than her hair. She appeared far younger, and her normally silver eyes looked normal apart from the glaring blue-green irises.

“Because it’s not me,” said the real Jack, pushing past the younger version.

The occupants of the room just stared, looking from one to the other.

“Okay,” said Zedok. “I guess I’m going to be the first to say it, but what the ACTUAL- -”

“Shapeshifters,” sighed Jack. “They apparently have them here.”

“Changeling,” corrected the other Jack. “I am a changeling. There is a difference.”

“A changeling is a type of fairy or demon that is exchanged for an infant in its crib,” stated Armchair, apparently reading it from some manner of internal dictionary. “The false-child then grows strong on the love of the foster parents. We do not know what happens to the infant. We assume it is eaten.”

“So you eat children?” said Zedok.

“No more than you do.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

The second Jack smiled, but did not answer the question. “I am Viceroy Chrysalis. Princess Cadence has in her, well, infinite wisdom to add caring for you as one of my numerous duties.”

“Do you have to look like Jack, though? It’s creepy. You even sound like her.”

“I don’t have to. But I like this form. It makes me feel powerful and sexy.”

“Trust me,” said Jack. “It gets old fast.” She crossed the room and leaned against one of the crystal walls. Her silver eyes never left Chrysalis.

“In a literal sense? No. I will never age. When I tire of your skin, I will find a new one.” She looked up at Darien and smiled. “I like him. Very imposing. Maybe I will take that form next.”

“You are welcome to take our form,” said Armchair. “We could use the company.”

Chrysalis looked at the geth, seeming to notice it for the first time, and then took a step back with an expression of unparalleled disgust on her face.

“What’s the matter, Chrissy? You don’t like geth?” said Jack.

“That’s not the point,” said Chrysalis. She cleared her throat and regained her composure. “What I bothered to come all the way out here to explain is that Princess Cadence has extended a gracious offer to the Core-unicorn Starlight Glimmer, and she has accepted.”

“What kind of offer?” asked Zedok.

“Simply to stay here for several days, to see what our glorious Empire has to offer her. As such, you as her entourage are free to wander about the Empire as you see fit.”

“Finally,” said Darien. He immediately started walking toward the door. “I need to get to the surface. Trees, air, sky. Fuzzy creatures. This place, it causes me depression indoors.”

“If you are approaching the surface, avoid areas inhabited by the thorians,” noted Chrysalis. She shrugged. “Or don’t, if you like dying.”

“Where is Starlight?” asked Zedok, becoming increasingly suspicious of Chrysalis. Something was wrong about her. It was not just that she looked like Jack. It was something about the way she moved. It was nearly imperceptible, but when she would gesture or walk she would not move quite naturally. Her motions were just barely unsmooth, and just slightly jerky, and her joints seemed not quite to be assembled correctly beneath her business-casual attire. It was as though an enormous insect were wearing Jack’s skin.

“You think I murdered your friend. Perhaps ate her?”

“No. I just don’t trust people who don’t show their face.”

Chrysalis pointed at her head, smiling with pointed teeth. “It’s right here, mortal.”

“I’m liking you less and less,” said Jack.

“You’re not supposed to like me. Starlight Glimmer is currently with the Archgeneral. The turian departed on the way here, apparently wishing to visit a library. For some reason. And the Questlord was already gone by the time we returned. Needless to say, Flash Sentry will be receiving a thorough beating for allowing her to leave before the Princess’s order arrived.”

“A beating?” asked Armchair. “To death?”

“Probably not, no. Why?”

“Because then you would be beating a dead horse!”

Nobody laughed.

“Um…why would I be beating him after he dies? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Just ignore it,” said Jack.

“He’s still new to the whole ‘humor’ thing.”

“Clearly,” said Chrysalis. “And I would strongly recommend not saying something like that to any ponies. It is morbid.”

“Oh. We apologize.”

“I’m a changeling. Not a pony.”

“We already covered that,” said Jack. “Now could you PLEASE stop looking like me?”

“You are just angry because I look better than you ever did. Those ridiculous tattoos…”

“I like those tattoos,” said Zedok.

“Of course you do.” Chrysalis sighed, and started toward the door. “I’m going to be here if you need help with anything. Because I have to. Just don’t break anything.”

She left, and Zedok looked at Jack, who did not seem at all happy.

“Well, she seemed nice,” said Armchair, apparently having been oblivious to the entire tone of the conversation.

“I’ve met worse,” said Jack, pushing herself off from the wall. She started walking toward the door as well, giving Chrysalis more than enough time to get out of sight. “Zed,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go do something. I’m so damn BORED. Do you think crystal ponies have alcohol?”

“No idea.”

“Then let’s find out.”

They left together, leaving Armchair alone in the room. After several minutes, he came to a consensus and crawled back under the table to continue whatever it was he had been doing in the first place.

Elsewhere, Beri Tyros approached the counter of a facility that she had been assured was a library. Sitting behind the counter was a rather thin looking blue pony wearing a headband around his long hair.

“You,” said Beri. “You are the librarian?”

“Librarian? Oh, no. I don’t think I could call myself a full-fleged librarian quite yet,” he said, blushing. “I just work the front desk for now. My names’s Crystal Hoof. How can I help you?”

“I need books.”

“Books? Well, you’ve come to the right place!”

“Really…” Beri looked around the wide, circular room and saw that despite the benches and desks on both the floor and the mezzanine, there were no visible books. That, combined with the fact that Crystal Hoof seemed not to notice that she was an alien, made the entire situation come across as almost surreal.

“Oh, yes. The Imperium Library is a joint project between the Divine Princess Cadence and her sister-in-law, the Core Princess Twilight Sparkle. We are dedicated to the mission of helping our nations learn about each other to foster lasting peace.” He looked past Beri at the empty benches. “Of course…not a lot of ponies really want to learn about Equestria…”

“I will need approximately twenty children’s books,” said Beri. “And also historical records concerning the war between your Empire and Equestria.”

“War history is one of our specialties. But it’s a pretty broad topic. Anything in particular? Ancient galacto-politics, perhaps? Special warfare tactics? A visual dictionary of starships throughout the ages? Something on, oh, I don’t know, the role of changeling special-ops during the latter half of the conflict? That one is one of my favorites.”

“No. I’m looking for records on a particular solider. Lyra Heartstrings, on the Equestria side.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll see what I can do. We do offer declassified records. Is she a relative of yours?”

“Yes,” lied Beri.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for what she must have gone through,” said Crystal Hoof. Behind the rim of the counter, he was doing something that was obscured from Beri’s view. “Okay. Yes, there are a few things. I’m adding them. Is that it?”

“Yes. For now.”

“Here you go, then.” Crystal Hoof extended one of his hoofs, which contained tiny sliver of crystal.

Beri took it, and found that it was oddly heavy. “What is this?”

“What you asked for. The records and twenty of our best-read children’s books.”

“And how am I supposed to use this? Do I eat it?”

“NO! No! Don’t do that! Whatever you do, don’t eat one of those. I’ve seen what it did to a pony…”

“What did it do?”

He shook his head. “You don’t want to know.” He leaned to his side and pointed at the desks toward the edge of the room. “If you don’t have a reader, you can use the terminals over there.”

“Right…”

Beri crossed the room and sat down in one of the tiny, pony-sized chairs. Not only was it undignified, but the system she was given to use was also adapted for pony anatomy instead of that of a turian. Regardless of how awkward and unpleasant it was, though, it was still better and easier to use than anything that humans had ever constructed.

It took several minutes for Beri to figure out how to insert the crystal sliver into the system, but once she did, she set to work reviewing the children’s books. Despite her young age and lack of financial support from the Council, she was still a spectre, and a turian one at that. Generally, her specialty was full-force combat, but she had also trained in cryptology and stenography as well as the various skills that would be required for operations that required greater subtlety than could be accomplished with a zetan pistol.

After four or five hours, Beri had for the most part mastered the Equestrian written language. It was not exceedingly complex, but like their chairs it had been adapted for a different sort of biology. Whereas almost all known species used their hands to write, the ponies had been forced to find a different method and their text represented that.

The books themselves were not uninteresting, either. After learning how to actually read them, Beri found that several were blatant propaganda about not trusting Equestria or supporting Cadence. A few, though, were what appeared to be fairy-tales or didactic stories. Two also appeared to be historical in nature, with one involving ponies in a sort of fantasy world interacting with some manner of monstrous biped and another that covered the subject of a historical figure called King Sombra who was apparently as feared as he was revered.

Once the knowledge of the language was cemented in her mind, though, Beri moved on to the information she actually wanted to read. The documents that she had been given were variable and diverse, ranging from simple Equestrian records to occasional articles from newspapers or magazines. Some involved other Lyra’s- -it was apparently not an uncommon name- -and some of the later documents were heavily redacted.

There was enough, though.

There was a roar of energy as a crystal starship passed at immense speed, racing through the central corridors of the Imperium on its way to the surface. Even at a distance, Starlight felt the wind coming off it and shielded her eyes with a hoof.

“See, I told you,” said Flurry Heart, smiling broadly.

“They certainly are quick,” said Starlight. That was hardly the impressive part, though. She looked back to where the unmanned vessel had come from to the endless racks that held countless hundreds of thousands of more like it. Many were nearly identical: roughly spherical, spiny, and around forty feet in diameter. Others were larger, though, and several had different shapes. Some were monocrystalline, and some actually looked roughly like actual spacecraft. A few were gigantic, filling up most of the space between the floor and the half-mile high ceiling of the hanger. Those seemed to have their own outlet channels, and as far as Starlight knew, they were unmanned as well.

“And the Imperium has three hundred and eighty seven hangers just like this one,” boasted Flurry Heart. “But that’s just Mother’s central defense fleet. Out in the galaxy there are many, many more.”

“How many?”

“Millions,” said Flurry Heart, shrugging.

She led Starlight to a different part of the facility. Far below, Starlight could see a much smaller and flatter hanger. Crystal ponies were walking through it, each dressed in protective uniforms. After a moment, a crystal starship appeared, roaring into the room with a distinctive warbling hiss. A small group followed it, and each of the secondary ships spread out to delicate-looking pedestals. The central ship hovered in place and then landed in the center of the floor. As the crew moved in to inspect and care for it, the crystal shifted and a flight-suited crystal pony dropped out of the bottom.

“So you control more than one,” said Starlight. She looked at the small alicorn beside her. “How many?”

“All pilots need to be able to control at least ten,” said Flurry Heart. “That’s just to sign up. I, of course, can hold thirty six.”

“Impressive.”

“I guess so. I could do more, but I need to coordinate the other ponies too. If it were just me out there, I could do at least a hundred.” She paused. “Of course, that’s still nothing compared to the High Exemplar.”

“The High Exemplar?”

“Yeah. The best we have. He once commanded two hundred and seventy three independent vessels, including six heavy bombers. Not in some demonstration, either. That was in the Battle of the Dying Star. He did that in actual combat.”

“That’s actually somewhat terrifying.”

“To our enemies, yes.” Flurry Heart led Starlight away from the noise of the ships as more came into the nearby hangers, returning from a practice run. “But I think you have potential, too.”

“Me?”

“I’ve never seen somepony survive that much magic from Mother before. To be honest…well, I was holding my breath the whole time. I knew you were powerful, but not that much.”

“It’s not entirely me,” admitted Starlight. “I have a lot of implants that amplify my ability.”

“But it’s still your ability, isn’t it?” Flurry Heart paused and looked up at Starlight. “I’ll be totally honest with you, Starlight. I want you.”

“I don’t do fillies,” said Starlight. “Sorry.”

“What? No.” Flurry Heart shook her head. “For my military. As a pilot. I think you could add so much to my team!”

“Me?” said Starlight. “You do realize I’m a Core, right?”

“So what?” Flurry Heart seemed confused by that remark. “Well, I guess that’s part of it. Almost all of our pilots are crystal ponies. There are unicorns in the Empire, but not many at all. Crystal ponies are durable, but they don’t have an independent source of magic. They can operate faster than unmared ships, but they still use Mother’s magic. You wouldn’t have to.”

“I see,” said Starlight, feeling her mood darken. “So you just want to use me as fuel.”

“Fuel? No!” Flurry Heart pointed to herself. “It’s the same ability I have! The High Exemplar and I both have our own magic, and so do you! You wouldn’t just be powering the ship. You’d be with us. As an equal.”

Starlight smiled. “You’re really manipulative, aren’t you.”

Flurry Heart shrugged. “I try. But in all seriousness. I like you. And I really hope that you take Mother’s offer.”

Starlight did not answer. She smiled and continued to follow Flurry Heart, not wanting to tell the alicorn filly that her mind was made up, and that it had been since the moment the offer was made.

Still, the little filly was at least mildly endearing, so Starlight stayed with her, listening to her stories and occasional bragging as she was led through the facility. In its own way, the whole set of events was funny. Flurry Heart did not even seem to have considered the idea that Starlight might have wanted to see what life would actually be like in the Crystal Empire. She insisted on showing Starlight the mechanical aspects of the military that she was supposedly in charge of, as if that was the main draw of Cadence’s offer. This was cute- -until Starlight realized that there was a strong chance that at her age, Flurry Heart may not have actually ever experienced any elements of the world outside of preparing for an apocalyptic war.

That war itself, of course, was what truly concerned Starlight, if only on an academic level. She had understood that there had been a war between the Crystal Empire and Equestria. From what she could gather, the ship that she had originally been enslaved within- -several pieces of which were now grafted into her body- -had likely been intended to take part in the ongoing conflict should the armistice be broken.

What this mass of military might implied, though, was that there was at least an equal armada on the Equestrian side. For five years, Starlight had thought her progress had been good. Not perfect- -she had witnessed at least a piece of the Equestrian Fleet- -but now she saw that every advancement she had made was almost meaningless in the face the challenge she would no doubt face in attempting to free her people. Of course, she was also aware that with her mission complete there was now a piece of Reaper technology awaiting her back on the Citadel that might just turn the tide in her favor.

When Starlight finally returned to paying attention to the disproportionately large-winged filly in front of her, she found herself wandering through large, empty corridors deep within the Imperium.

“- -and that means that if my Mother does complete her apotheosis, I would have to take a larger role in ruling.”

“What, you mean like dying?”

“Silly mortal. Mother is an alicorn. She can’t die.” Flurry Heart’s expression shifted slightly, as if what she had just said was not entirely true.

“Second question,” said Starlight, trying to lighten the mood. “Those wings- -”

“THEY ARE NOT BIG!”

“Whoa,” said Starlight, taking a step back. “Not what I was going to ask. It’s just that I haven’t met very many winged ponies.” Starlight felt her jaw clench remembering one of the very few that she had. Her hatred for that particular gray mare had not lessened since their last meeting, and Starlight doubted that it ever would. “I just wanted to know if the wings, you know, actually work.”

Flurry Heart blinked. “Well, yes. Of course they work.” Flurry Heart Spread her exorbitantly large wings and flapped them. The force of such enormous appendages moving through the air put her off balance, but with some difficulty she was able to lift herself into the air.

“Wow,” said Starlight. “You really can fly.”

“I know,” she said, self-satisfied. “And I’m actually good at it, naturally. That’s just another one of the perks of being born an alicorn. I get magic, and I get to- -”

Starlight surrounded herself with blue light and lifted into the air. As soon as Flurry Heart saw this, her eyes became wider than any eyes that Starlight had ever seen.

“Dy- -dynamic self-levitation? You- -you can do that?”

“I can project an entire starship out of my spine. This isn’t even hard.”

Flurry Heart smirked. “ Well, it’s a neat trick. But let’s see what you can do with it.”

She brought her wings down and tilted, darting off suddenly through the corridor. Starlight adjusted her field and accelerated herself after the small pony. A chase ensued. It was immediately apparent that Flurry Heart was a pilot, but also that she was not especially good at flying under her own power. Her wings were simply too large, and although they were good for gliding, every time she turned it seemed as though she were about to slam into a wall. Starlight, meanwhile, was able to move with absolute precision. She could have easily passed Flurry Heart, but the filly seemed to be having so much fun that Starlight instead stayed just close enough to keep her pushing.

Eventually, Starlight slowed and came to a rest. Flurry Heart continued forward, not noticing that Starlight had left the race. She was laughing, and seeing that made Starlight happy- -and sad. Like every chain of her thoughts, her mind came back to her nature as a Core. She found herself wondering if she would have had foals if she had been allowed to remain a normal unicorn instead of being reduced to a component of a ship built to fight these very ponies.

She continued after Flurry Heart in a trot, but eventually slowed to a walking pace when she realized that there was no way for her to catch up with the filly short of teleporting- -which, of course, was impossible in the Crystal Galaxy.

As she passed a hallway intersection, though, she became aware of a pony standing in the perpendicular hallway. Other ponies in this facility were uncommon but not rare; they were mostly crystal ponies, the workers and crew that kept the pilots’ ships in order but seemed almost never to go to where the main fleet was stored. They usually stopped to salute Flurry Heart, or looked at Starlight with mild amusement.

This one, however, spoke.

“Starlight Glimmer?” he said.

Starlight suddenly felt cold. The way he said it was strange and uncertain, as though there was a hint of recognition beyond the dispatch that Cadence had surely given her subordinates. Starlight stopped walking and turned toward the secondary hallway and found herself facing a unicorn at a distance. She recognized him by his flight-suit as the unicorn who had stared at her earlier, and she felt herself shiver.

“I am,” she said, calmly but with a heavy note of suspicion. “Who wants to know?”

“Sweet Celestia,” he whispered. “It…I didn’t think it was possible, but it is. It is you.”

He took a step forward and Starlight took a step back. She charged her horn and pointed it at him.

“Don’t come any closer. I don’t know you, and I don’t want to. I WILL kill you if I have to. You wouldn’t be the first, and you won’t be the last.”

“Starlight, it’s me!” He reached toward the full-face mask he wore and disengaged the interlock that held it into his suit. He levitated the largely featureless surface away from his face with his magic and blinked in response to the light around him. Then he looked up at Starlight with his large blue eyes and smiled.

At first, Starlight felt no recognition of this pony- -but then it all came to her at once, slamming into her mind and dredging up the faded and damaged memories of the time before she had been a Core. His orange coat, the white spot in the center of his face, his red-orange mane and beard- -Starlight knew this pony.

“Sunburst?”

He smiled, and this time Starlight allowed him to approach. As he did, she saw the implants in the side of his forehead, and realized that what she had taken for part of his flight-suit was actually an array of exposed implants emerging from his spine. They were almost identical to Starlight’s own.

A fluttering of wings approached from down the hall.

“Starlight, why did you stop?” said Flurry Heart, landing awkwardly. She was out of breath but smiling. “I’m assuming because you got tired, of course. I am pretty hard to beat when it comes to flying.” She looked up at Sunburst, and her smile got much wider.

“High Exemplar Sunburst!” she said, bounding up to him and saluting.

“Flurry Heart,” said Sunburst, hugging her. “Oh my, you’re all sweaty.”

“I was flying. As you recommended.”

“I did suggest you try flying,” admitted Sunburst. “But not indoors. I was hoping you would go outside. Perhaps practice with some Pegasi, or griffons.” He sighed. “Well, either way. Flying with your real wings will pay off when it comes to flying with crystal. If I could practice without a fighter, I certainly would.”

“Starlight can fly, though.” Flurry Heart suddenly backpedaled. “Not that- -not that you couldn’t if you wanted to.” Flurry Heart then seemed to realize that Starlight was standing behind her. “Oh! This is Starlight Glimmer! A potential recruit for my forces.”

“We’ve met,” said Starlight, softly.

Flurry Heart blinked. “But…how?”

“Back on Equestria Prime,” said Sunburst. “When we were children. Before…”

He did not need to finish the sentence. Starlight knew what had happened to them both, and to countless thousands of other young unicorns. The secret police had come in the night and taken them away to be made into Cores. From what Starlight had been told by the mare who had led the operation, though, was that Sunburst had been their original target- -she had been incidental.

“Sunburst…they told me you died.”

Sunburst’s expression darkened. “I don’t know who you could have talked to who knew that, but whoever it was, he- -or she- -is not wrong.” He looked down at Flurry Heart, who was looking up in rapt attention. He sighed, and then turned his eyes toward Starlight, who felt her own eyes starting to water. “I was a failed Core. Do you know what they do with failures, Starlight?”

Starlight shook her head.

“They dump us into a star. With the rest of the trash. So that pirates and criminals can’t get parts to build their own ships. I was stronger than the others, though. Even though I failed…I was what they call ‘moribund’.”

“But they were going to throw you away anyway? Just…just like that?”

Sunburst nodded. “I was just trash. Broken and dying, lying in a heap of other failed Cores. Too weak to stand, or even cry out.”

“You weren’t trash,” said Starlight. “None of you were.”

“If only that were true. But we were, Starlight. Hazardous medical waste.”

“But then what happened?” asked Flurry Heart.

“As I said, Cores are valuable. Even dead ones. We were attacked by pirates. They didn’t have any empathy for any of us, but as a marginally alive Core, I was too valuable to throw away but too useless for them to put to their own use. This was during the War, of course. So they sold me. To the Crystal Empire.”

“I’m sorry,” said Starlight, wiping her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry about, Starlight? If anything, I escaped a terrible fate. They helped me here. Cadence helped me. But you…” He took a deep breath. “I always knew that they took you too. I’ve thought about you nearly every day. In my mind, you were always trapped in one of those infernal ships. Some nights, I would cry. Because I got out, but I couldn’t take you with me. And every Equestrian ship I destroyed…I was terrified that you were in one of them.”

“It took me a lot longer,” said Starlight. “And even then, it was only by accident. My ship was destroyed, and a group of aliens found me in the wreckage. And when they woke me up…”

“It was like no time had passed at all.”

Starlight smiled. “It feels like…to me, it feels like just a few years ago. When we would play together. You were my best friend…”

Starlight felt herself moving, and then found herself nearly tackling Sunburst with a hug. As she did, her eyes fell onto the implants that covered his back. More memories came flooding back to her, ones that she had thought had been taken from her. Of laughing and playing and their various adventures- -and the lives they sometimes talked about having when they grew up. When she remembered that, Starlight began sobbing.

“You shouldn’t- -you shouldn’t have been a Core!” she wailed. “Why- -why would they do that to you? Oh- -Sunburst!”

Sunburst did not say anything. He did not need to.

Eventually Starlight mostly calmed down. She leaned back from Sunburst, and felt terribly embarrassed. As soon as she saw his face, though, she knew that she did not need to be.

“I never thought I’d see you again, Starlight,” he said. “We have so much catching up to do. That is, if you want to.”

“Of course, Sunburst.” Starlight wiped her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. Not for a while, anyway.”

Sunburst smiled and turned his attention to Flurry Heart. “Why don’t you come with us, Flurry Heart?”

“Me?”

“Is there another Flurry Heart in here?”

“No. It’s just that…” Flurry Heart shook her head. “Never mind. Sure. I really like your stories, and I know you’re going to tell Starlight lots and lots of them.”

“You must have heard my stories a hundred times by now. Perhaps Starlight has some interesting ones as well? I’d love to hear them.”

“Well…I guess I can try to listen to them,” said Flurry Heart, pouting slightly.

Sunburst laughed, and he and Starlight fell into step as Flurry Heart bounded forward.

Miles above, on the surface of the Imperium, Lyra Heartstrings walked slowly through a park. There were not many ponies around, and Lyra was glad for it. Looking at the crystal ponies made her sick. Every one of them she saw brought back memories of the war and what they had done. The cognitive disparity of seeing them- -creatures that she had always assumed were mindless, vicious constructs- -going about happy daily lives was almost too much to bear.

Their reactions to her were less than pleasant as well. Lyra had already known that the Crystal Empire had contained a wide number of non-crystalline beings. Exiles, outcasts, cults and their descendants made up a substantial part of the population. A unicorn was not unheard of. Lyra’s anthro body, however, seemed to frighten them. They looked away from her, and mothers shielded their children as though she were the monster instead of them.

She almost regretted having left the suite she and her friends had been assigned. Almost. In actuality, she hated the idea of being watched over by crystal ponies so much that it would have been nearly unbearable. Escaping had not even been difficult. One of the greatest flaws of extensive underground facilities was that the invariably required large ventilation shafts to keep the atmosphere circulating, and as a certain krogan had come to find out very quickly, Lyra’s robotic body was amazingly flexible.

And so Lyra found herself in this park. It was extensive and flat, with a large portion of the ground consisting of enormous crystal tiles. Running throughout their complex structure were a system of artificial streams that fed planters of flowers and trees. Lyra found hereself walking slowly past the trickling steams and looking up at the trees. They were smaller than the ones she was accustomed to on Parnack, but they were species that she recognized from her life in Equestria.

Despite its beauty, though, this was a sad place. Lyra had read the signs, and she was aware of what it was for. She was not sure why, but she was drawn to it. Perhaps because she was one of the ones who remembered.

Lyra eventually reached the center of the park where the crystal gave way to a large monument. It was not a building or a statue, but rather a system of walls constructed from a special type of cloudy-gray, nearly black crystal. It was massive, more massive than Lyra had ever expected it would be.

As she approached, her one functional eye focused on the surface of the monument. It was not perfectly smooth. In fact, it was covered with countless millions of carved names.

For the better part of three hours, Lyra walked around the edge of the monument, following the chronology recorded on it until finally she arrived at a date that she would never be able to forget. She stopped, and for a moment considered turning away, even running. Instead, she took a ragged breath with her cybernetic lungs and looked up at the hundreds and hundreds of names of the soldiers who had lost their lives in the same battle where she had lost everything except hers.

It was striking. Lyra had no organic heart, not anymore, but she still felt her chest tighten. Before, they had always just been a horde. Now she saw that they had names. Each and every one of them. They had been ponies, like she had once been. Like in many ways she still was.

She was not sure how long she stared at that wall before she became conscious of another pony approaching. At first, Lyra did not look at him. She assumed he would just pass. When he stopped at the same facet as her, though, she looked down to see a crystal pony looking not at her but at the same wall. His rear legs, Lyra realized, were supported in a wheel rack. He was partially paralyzed.

“Did you lose someone in the battle?” he asked her without looking away from the wall.

“Yeah,” said Lyra. “I did.”

The crystal pony smiled. “You know, they’re all here,” he said. He put his hoof softly against one of the names. “See? There’s Misty Glow. He was on my squad. He hated when we used his first name, but we always did anyway. And next to him is Fire Quartz. He was a real hothead, but he died getting me and Luminescence to cover. Luminescence…he was my best friend. I loved that pony like a brother. He didn’t make it either.”

“You were in the battle,” said Lyra.

He nodded. “Yeah. It took my back legs. But I was lucky. We barely knew what we were getting into…we were told we were going to perform an ambush, and exactly where they would be. Then the came…” He shuddered. “Questlord mechs. Five of them. Just five. But they mowed us down like it was nothing. They slammed into us and we lost the first platoon in seconds. You can’t imagine what fresh hell that was.”

“I don’t have to,” said Lyra. “I was there.”

“You were?” for the first time, the crystal pony looked up at her. “I don’t recognize you. What unit were you in?”

“I was piloting one of the mechs.”

They both fell silent for a long, long time.

“Oh,” said the crystal pony. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Don’t apologize to me. I was probably the one who killed your friends.”

“But we won the battle. Eventually. And you…” he looked up at her. “It looks like you lost a lot more than your legs.”

Lyra looked down at one of her robotic hands. “This? I don’t even care. I’d have given up my whole body if I could have just saved her…”

“You lost somepony too.”

“The mare I loved, and my entire squad. The squad, they were my sisters, but they were knights. They knew what they were getting into. But Bon Bon…she shouldn’t have been there.”

“Damn,” said the crystal pony. “Just…damn…”

They fell silent again, and they both looked up at the wall. Lyra was not sure what she was looking for; the five names that she knew were not listed there, but in some dusty and forgotten file somewhere in a Canterlot basement.

“There should have been six…”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind.”

“Calcite Facet.”

“What?”

“It’s my name. Calcite Facet. And you?”

“Lyra. Lyra Heartstrings.”

“Well, Lyra Heartstrings…” He rolled backward and toward her. “I’m glad I met you. My wife is making hay-roast tonight. I’d be really happy if you could come, maybe have a drink with us.”

“Why would you want me there? I’m your enemy.”

“No.” Calcite shook his head. “You WERE my enemy. Not anymore. The War is over. Every name on this wall, they all died for that one goal. For peace. Misty Glow, Fire Quartz, Luminescence, all the others. All they ever wanted was to live in a world where we didn’t have to fight.”

“I know the feeling.” There had been a time in Lyra’s life when she had once considered leaving the war and starting a life with Bon Bon. To just forget about the fighting. Every day- -until she had met Starlight, Fenok, and the others- -she had wished that she had taken that path instead.

“I can’t eat, though,” said Lyra. “I don’t have a stomach.”

“That makes two of us. I’m made of crystal, after all. And I don’t think my wife can eat a whole hay-roast by herself. Honestly, I don’t know why she insists on making so much food.”

“You know, I have the same problem at home,” mused Lyra. “My stepdaughter’s coltfriend does a lot of the cooking, and he always makes ridiculous portions. And somehow my husband still manages to eat all of it, no matter how sick he gets afterward.”

Calcite laughed. “So is that a yes?”

“Sure,” said Lyra, following him as he started walking back down the path. “Why not?”

They crossed back down the long path, with Calcite occasionally pointing out the symbolism that was associated with the various shapes and trees that surrounded the monument.

“Not much farther,” said Calcite after several minutes. “She’s waiting for me just at the edge. She doesn’t like to come into the monument grounds proper.” He paused, and then sighed. “A lot of ponies are actually like that, actually. Almost no one comes here. It’s like they just want to pretend that the war never happened.”

“It’s the opposite in Equestria,” said Lyra. “All they ever do is prepare for it to start again.”

They came to the edge of the park where a mare was lying on a bench. Calcite led Lyra around the front. She appeared to be reading a newspaper, and she took it down and smiled when she saw her husband- -and her smile vanished the instant she saw Lyra.

Then Lrya saw her closely, and ever Every servo her body froze. Even without lungs or a heart, she felt her breath catch and her circulatory system accelerate. She blinked, but the image did not leave her eyes. The bicolor hair, the eggshell coat, the blue eyes.

Calcite was oblivious to the reaction of the two mares. He smiled and introduced them. “Lyra, I’d like you to meet my wife. Her name is Sweetie Drops.”

Chapter 16: Diplomacy

Rarity rolled over beneath her ultra-high thread count silk sheets and stretched, yawning in the artificial morning light. She then lay back down and smiled, savoring the familiar feeling of feeling both very good and very, very sore. In this case, though, the soreness was much greater than she was used to. That, of course, was to be expected. Contrary to what she had told him, her diplomatic position did in fact give her access to the very best stallion in Equestria, and she was quite familiar with how to operate them- -but none had been quite as thorough with her as Garrus had been. That, and turian and pony anatomy were not one hundred percent compatible.

Rarity looked over at her vanity, where an unwilting silver flower was sitting in a matching base, and she smiled, enjoying the satisfaction of a choice well made. After several minutes, though, she forced herself to roll out of bed. When she hit the floor, her rear legs nearly collapsed.

“Oh my,” she said, giggling in surprise. “That certainly hasn’t happened before.”

She quickly regained her balance and walked stiffly to her mirror. She produced a silver hairbrush from one of the drawers and began brushing her hair. After one hundred strokes, she turned her attention toward her tail. It had been pulled quite hard, and needed far more brushing than normal.

Once she was done, she applied her makeup and, deeming herself acceptably exquisite, opened the door to her quarters. O17F was already waiting outside, dressed impeccably with her mane and wings perfectly prepared as Rarity required of her.

“Good morning, Lady Rarity,” she said.

“Good morning, O17F,” yawned Rarity. “I’m still trying to decide what theme I want today. Either ‘imposing warlord emissary’ or something dazzling with much more jewelry.” She paused, wondering what Garrus would like the best. “Or maybe something a bit sheer, but still professional. Hmm. Have them all set out for me, I’ll decide after breakfast.”

“As you wish, Lady Rarity. With regards to your morning meal, the salarian Councilor has sent a basket of what we believe to be fruit.”

“Oh, my, that was certainly generous of him!”

“Her,” corrected O17F. “Councilor Kalejen is female.”

“Oh. Well, I can’t be expected to know that. She should really wear something more flattering if she wants ponies to know.” Rarity paused. “Don’t I have a meeting scheduled with her today?”

“I have rescheduled it,” said O17F.

Rarity stopped in her tracks. “Might I ask why, exactly, you took the liberty to do that?”

“Because you have been asleep for over twenty hours.”

“Twenty- -TWENTY HOURS?! HOW? Why didn’t you try to wake me up?!”

“I did. You did not rise. I explained to the Councilors that you were having some difficulty adjusting to the gravity and air on this megastructure.”

Rarity took a step closer to the slightly taller Pegasus pony. O17F did not flinch, and her deep red eyes stayed trained on Rarity.

“Do you have any idea how important this mission is to Equestria? This could be the highlight of my career! And you let me be unpunctual?”

“My sincerest apologies, Lady Rarity.”

Rarity raised a hoof. “I should beat you for this, as you are certainly aware.”

“As is your prerogative, Lady Rarity. I am prepared to accept whatever pain you deem necessary to administer.”

Rarity lowered her hoof. “I should hit you, but I simply can’t be accompanied by a bruised breeder. What would they say? That I can’t afford proper stock? I really do wish you came in different colors. White just stains so easily…”

“I apologize for my genetic failures, Lady Rarity.”

Rarity accepted the apology, if only silently. She quickly made her way through her ship until she reached the charming miniature dining room. As she entered, she saw Sweetie Belle suddenly slam a closet door closed. Rarity also saw that her dress was not on straight, and that the sash bow was partially untied.

“Sweetie Belle! What are you doing here?” demanded Rarity. “And why are your clothes in such disarray?”

“I…uh…forgot something on the ship,” said Sweetie Belle. She looked back at the closet. “And…uh…it’s definitely NOT in this closet! Nope, not at all!”

“Oh,” said Rarity. “Are you sure? I have to meet the Councilors eventually, but I’m sure I can take a moment to help you look- -”

“NO! No,” said Sweetie Belle, leaning against the door. “Because it’s full of…off…space hamsters!”

“Space hamsters?” Rarity took a step back. “In- -in my pantry?!”

“Yeah,” said Sweetie Belle, nodding. “Si’y told me that the Citadel is infested with them. They must have gotten on the ship when we were out. But don’t worry, they’re all in the closet right now. Just like Scootaloo! Heh heh heh…”

“Oh, well, then, if you think you have it covered.” Rarity turned to O17F. “Be sure to have the others remove them. You know how I feel about rodents.”

“Yes, Lady Rarity. None shall survive. As always, Fluttershy shall not be informed.”

“Also, I just decided to wear the gold jewelry. Lots of it.” She gave one last look to Sweetie Belle. “And darling, do SOMETHING about your dress. It is simply unbecoming of a white unicorn to look that slovenly.”

“I don’t know what that means,” admitted Sweetie Belle.

Rarity sighed, but went along with her work. She had intended to eat breakfast, but she was already in a rush and had lost her appetite at the thought of whatever space hamsters actually were. That, and she very much wanted to see Garrus again. She knew that the political process would go so much more smoothly with their newly lubricated relationship.

Rarity trotted out of the room with O17F. Sweetie Belle waited until she could no longer hear their hoofsteps, then sighed. She then released the door and Jade Wing came tumbling out along with several cans of grass-flavored soup.

“Ow,” he said as he landed on the floor. He looked up at Sweetie Belle. “Why did you do that?”

“Do you know what they would do to you if they knew you were here?”

“Yes.” He looked up at the closet and pointed. “There aren’t really space hamsters in there, are there?”

Sweetie Belle shrugged, and then looked down at her dress. It certainly was messy. Instead of fixing it, though, she loosened the fastenings on the back and stepped out of it.

Jade Wing immediately blushed. “Should I be seeing this?”

“What’s the matter? You don’t like what you see?”

“Eh,” said Wing. “You’re not bad for an organic. Solid six.”

“Oh really?” Sweetie Belle threw back her long, bicolor hair and tried to look as seductive as possible. “How about now?”

“Six and a quarter? I don’t know. If you end up looking like your sister when you actually fill out, you might make an eight at least.”

Sweetie Belle frowned and kicked him. Not hard, but enough for it to make a sound. Being made of crystal, he largely did not seem to sense the blow.

As Wing stood up, Sweetie Belle continued to pout. After a minute or two, though, she turned to him. “So. Do you want to make out or what?”

Wing shrugged. “Sure. I don’t have much else to do today.”

With her mercenary in tow and her extensive gold harnesses and boots placed over her deep auburn dress, Rarity trotted toward the Council meeting place. The Citadel, as she quickly realized, was actually tremendously large. It was the size of a city- -or rather, five, each separated in space. Navigating it was time consuming, especially for a comparatively small organism like a pony. The fact that there were a surprising number of long elevator rides only made it more difficult.

On her way, Rarity found herself walking through a wide and secluded hallway with enormous curving windows on the left side. The hall windows provided an astonishing view of the city that lined the inner surface of the Citadel and of the hundreds if not thousands of starships coming and going as they moved through the space between. Had she not been in such a hurry, she would have liked to look out at that spectacular view.

She quickly realized, however, that she was not alone in the hall. A familiar blue-skinned figure was also walking down the hall, although more slowly.

“Councilor Falare!” called Rarity, galloping forward. Her jewelry jingled, and her mercenary fell back and out of earshot- -or what his earshot would have been if he were a pony. Rarity made a mental note to increase his tip, as he was an impeccably tactful bodyguard.

Falare turned to see who had called her. She looked down at Rarity, and then turned back to walking. Rarity fell in step beside her.

“Ambassador,” said the Councilor curtly.

“Do you mind if I walk with you?” asked Rarity.

“I have no right to stop you.” Falare’s voice had almost as much emotion as her drab, oversized robes had color. It made Rarity uncomfortable, but she assumed that Falare had simply slept wrong- -or perhaps was offended by Rarity’s unpunctuality. Rarity knew that the burden of making conversation fell to her, and that it was critical that she make a good impression like she already had with Garrus- -even if doing so with a woman would not be nearly as satisfying.

“It is good to see you are feeling better,” said Falare, her voice still incredibly cold.

“Ah, yes,” said Rarity, blushing slightly. “I am indeed feeling in much better spirits.”

“I can see how exerting yourself that greatly could have an effect.”

“Excuse me?”

Falare did not answer, allowing the conversation to trail off. Rarity followed her in silence for several awkward moments. Eventually, she looked around the hallway, trying to find a subject for conversation- -and realized that Falare was absolutely alone.

“Do you not have guards?” asked Rarity.

“The asari Councilor is traditionally attended by a group of elite commandos. But I am not a traditional asari Councilor.”

“So you don’t have any? Might I ask why?”

Falare looked down, her blue eyes steely and frigid. “Because they are afraid of me.”

Rarity shivered. “Well, that seems an unfair judgement on their part,” she lied, “with regards to that, though, did you and Councilor Vakarian receive my gift package?”

“Councilor Vakarian certainly did receive your gift, ambassador. And if you are referring to the box of child slaves, yes. Yes I did.”

“Marvelous! Aren’t they just precious at that age? Simply adorable!” She frowned. “You didn’t eat any of them, perhaps?”

Falare stopped walking. Her voice took a harsher tone. “And why do you think I would do that, ambassador?”

“Oh, pardon me. I didn’t mean any offense by it! It’s just that, well, you are an alien. I assumed that was something that you do.”

“It isn’t. And slavery is outlawed in Council space, just so you know.”

“Oh, surely. It is outlawed in Equestria as well. It has been for millennia. Such a vile institution. That’s the reason we created the breeders, after all. And I can see I’ve offended you with the ‘eating the pony’ idea. In all honesty, though, they taste delicious.”

Falare’s eyes widened. “What did you just say?”

“What I mean is, their flavor is simply divine! I know it can be an acquired taste, of course, but one of my absolute closest friends is a Tartaran, and breeders are considered the epitome of quality meat on her homeworld. She introduced me to them, and I have to say, it is the sweetest meat you will ever taste.”

“You have to be joking.”

“Oh no! In fact, I’ve already begun preparing O17F. There’s a special diet, you see. Keeps the flesh exquisitely marbled and tender.”

“Is she aware of this?”

“Of course! I’ve already purchased a replacement, and she will be training the new mare soon enough. It simply wouldn’t do to keep them around when they start to age. It’s…depressing. Not to worry, though, I don’t intend to eat her all by myself. I intend to share pieces of her with starving Tartaran orphans. I can save you some prime cuts as well, if you like.”

“I think I’m going to be sick…”

“Oh, my,” said Rarity. She reached forward. “I don’t know if I can help, but- -”

“DON’T touch me!” said Falare, pulling away. Rarity looked up at her, shocked and not understanding. Falare looked absolutely terrifying, and Rarity suddenly found herself wondering if the asari Councilor had ever killed someone before.

Falare took a deep breath, however, and appeared to superficially regain her composure. “It will pass,” she said, her voice once again devoid of emotion. She started walking again. “The hour is growing late. I’m sure the other Councilors are anxious to speak to you. Especially Vakarian.”

“Garrus is waiting for me?”

“I’m sure he will barely be able to contain himself until the meeting is over.” She pointed at herself, and then at Rarity. “But you and myself? We are not friends. We will not be. Ever. This relationship is purely professional, and I would prefer if you do not speak to me without the other Councilors present. Such interactions would give the impression of impropriety. Something I’m sure you understand very, very well.”

Rarity stopped walking, but Falare continued.

“Oh,” she said. “Okay…”

The situation did not improve at the Council meeting, and Rarity could not understand why. She had attempted to sit as close as possible to Garrus, which he tolerated. Even though Rarity was covered in jewelry and finery, no matter how she tried she could not get him to look at her for even a few moments. Even then, he never made eye contact and only spoke in the simplest of business-like phrases when it came to speaking to her.

The response from Falare was cold, but in a different way. She already spoke little, and in most of the negotiations, she seemed to say nothing at all and instead watched the events unfold before her, never addressing Rarity except when it was absolutely necessary. Rarity had assumed that Falare was quiet, but she had not expected her to be like this. Something was wrong, but Rarity had no idea what.

This greatly affected her ability to concentrate. The salarian Councilor- -who was apparently oblivious to any of this- -continued to drone on and on about tremendously boring topics. Every single thing she said had so much political weight and posturing that it was almost impossible to discern her actual meaning. The fact that she seemed to talk at an impossible rate without any pauses or breathes only made listening to her even more difficult.

For her part, Rarity at least managed to produce an adequate performance as an ambassador. It was much more difficult than it should have been. The Council’s place in this situation was already evident: the various alien races had only the most limited knowledge of magic, despite having somehow managed to venture into space despite that limitation. They were technologically inferior to Equestria- -and yet they continued to drag out the negotiations based on the leverage that Rarity herself had accidentally given them: the fact that Equestria itself was embroiled in numerous minor incidents of civil unrest and could not afford another galactic-scale ware, especially if the currently neutral Council decided to instead side with Cadence.

Garrus was not doing what he was supposed to. He seemed to be equally distracted when Rarity was sure that she would have secured him as an ally. That was not the only reason she had done what she had done, of course, but it was the expected result.

Eventually, after several hours, the hearing concluded without a single substantive thing being said. Rarity felt frustrated and drained. She slid of the uncomfortable alien chair and started toward the door.

As she exited into the main atrium, she saw Garrus passing by. That made her happy, and somehow nervous. She had never felt quite that way before. Still, she ignored the unpleasant half of her feelings and approached he turian.

“Hello, Garrus,” she said, brushing against his leg.

Garrus looked down and then stepped away slightly. “Hello, ambassador.”

“Ambassador?” said Rarity, playfully- -but secretly vastly disappointed by his tone. “You know we can’t go back to that, now, don’t you, darling?”

“Yes,” admitted Garrus. “I know.”

Rarity continued to be disappointed. He was not acting the way he had before. He was not being rude, precisely- -that would have been entirely intolerable- -but rather he just seemed to want to leave.

“You know,” said Rarity. “I barely ate breakfast today, and I’m simply famished. I really would like to try some of those donuts you speak so highly of. Shall we perhaps get lunch togather?”

“I would love to, but my schedule is packed. I have a meeting with the Primarch tomorrow, and I need to get…um…prepared. So if you will excuse me- -”

“No I will not excuse you!” said Rarity. Her response was so sudden and vehement that she surprised even herself. She looked around and saw that no one had heard her outburst; they were all out of earshot, although Falare- -despite talking to the salarian Councilor- -was glaring at Rarity from across the room. Rarity ignored her, and instead focused on Garrus. “Garrus,” she hissed, making sure that no one could hear her. “Why are you acting like this? Is it because we made love?”

“Rarity, I don’t think this is the appropriate place- -”

“NO. This IS the appropriate place, because I’m not going to tolerate this treatment. I don’t do that with just anypony, you know. I’m not some cheap whore.”

“I know, I know, it’s just that…” Garrus sighed. “I…I think we made a mistake…”

Rarity gasped. “A mistake?! How dare you! I give you my body, and you have the gall to call me a MISTAKE?!” Rarity checked her volume, returning to a whisper. “Am I not good enough for you? Is that it?”

“No. It was just…” Garrus sighed. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Yes you do,” said Rarity, using her magic to keep him from leaving.

“Fine,” said Garrus. “It wasn’t your mistake. It was mine. What I did wasn’t professional.” He looked up at Falare, who immediately looked away and pretended to actually be listening to the droning of the salarian Councilor. “I may have screwed myself over in the process…” He paused again, and then looked Rarity in the eye. “You know, I have been meaning to retire. I might as well start preparing my resignation letter- -”

“You will do no such thing! You set up these negotiations, and you are going to finish them! If you leave the Council, I pull negotiations. That is virtually a declaration of war.”

“War? Rarity, you can’t be serious!”

“Deadly serious, darling. I was hoping to have a positive relationship with you, but the way you’re treating me…” she let herself trail off, and then shrugged. “It is not exactly conducive to a diplomatic process that favors both parties equally.”

Garrus frowned. “I get it,” he said after a moment. “I understand now. It was just for blackmail, wasn’t it?”

Rarity’s eyes widened, and she realized that she had misspoke. Badly. “No, no, I- -”

“Councilor Vakarian,” said a female voice from behind Rarity. She jumped and squeaked from surprise, only to turn around and discover that Falare had somehow managed to approach her without making a single sound.

“Falare,” said Garrus. “You didn’t hear what we were just talking about, did you?”

“I don’t have to,” said Falare, darkly. “Surely professional business. Trade deals and such. Perhaps negotiations of cost?”

“Falare, don’t be like that.”

“DON’T tell me what to do,” she said sharply. She looked down at Rarity, and then back to Garrus. “The extended meeting with the nonchaired representatives is in three hours. We need to prepare the address. And I need to check on our ponies.”

“Yes. Of course,” said Garrus. Then, to Rarity: “Ambassador, it was nice speaking to you. I will take what you have told me into consideration. At this point, my only wish is that the negotiations go well.”

He nodded, but did not wait for Rarity to say goodbye. He just walked off with Falare. This had not gone how Rarity had planned; she had expected them to go to lunch together, to laugh and tell each other stories like they had at dinner before, to eat donuts, and to have Garrus show her the scenic views of the Citadel.

Rarity looked around, knowing that she needed to find a mirror to fix her makeup. The tears were causing it to run.

Chapter 17: In the Empire, Part II

Zedok looked down into her tiny crystal shot glass of something that tasted vaguely of grapes. She looked over her shoulder at the patrons of the bar sitting at the tables behind her. Many of them were ponies, either of the crystal persuasion or of the organic type, either with horns, wings, or neither. Sitting amongst them, though, were several members of a different species that resembled a hybrid of birds and large cats. Those patrons often seemed to have a more grizzled appearance, with scars and the sort of pitted and worn clothing that Zedok normally associated with mercenaries.

What she found herself looking at, though, was a table at which sat five identical pink ponies with curly hair and tails. Not similar- - identical. Down to their squeaky voices. They were apparently playing poker.

“How the hell do they hold the cards with hooves?” asked Zedok, turning to Jack on her left.

“No idea,” muttered Jack. She was staring into her drink- -something distilled that smelled vaguely like cider- -but not drinking it. Zedok knew that Jack was getting older- -as a human, her life expectancy was almost perversely short- -but she had never seen Jack not drink alcohol that was given to her.

“Jack?” said Zedok, leaning closer. “What’s up?”

“Back table, third from the door,” she said. “The pale-purple crystal pony.”

Zedok blinked, not fully understanding, but then slowly turned and looked as discreetly as possible. Her cybernetic eyes quickly scanned to the table that Jack was referring to, where a handsome blue-colored crystal stallion was laughing with a pink-violet crystal mare.

“So?” said Zedok. “What, are you thinking of hitting on her? Because I think she’s with that stallion.”

“No,” said Jack, her voice indicating that she did not find any humor in Zedok’s statement. “That’s her.”

“Her?”

“The changeling.”

Zedok looked back, this time less discreetly. “No way! How can you tell?”

“I don’t know,” said Jack. “It’s like…like I can smell her. Her biotics. It’s damn hard to explain.”

“I don’t smell anything.”

“Wait about two hundred years until you fill in,” said Jack. “Trust me, it’s her.”

Zedok looked back one more time, pretending to instead be focusing on a table of griffons who were cheering over an arm-wrestling competition. “But they look like they’ve been friends forever. Lovers, even. “

“Yeah,” said Jack. “I know.”

Zedok looked back one more time, and then turned to her drink. “So what do you want to do.”

“For now? Nothing. She’s been tailing us since we left. I haven’t seen her change, but I know she is. Damn it…” Jack sighed. “Or the implants in my brain are finally rusting and I’m about to go out.”

“No, I believe you,” said Zedok. Growing up, Jack had been her idol, but in adulthood she had come to realize that Jack’s experience and judgement was greater than that of most asari ten times her age. “But why is she here? Do you think the Princess sent her as a tail?”

“Maybe,” said Jack. Then she shook her head. “No.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because Cadence is always watching. I can feel that too.” She took a long sip from her crystal goblet and wiped her mouth on her forearm.

“That isn’t possible,” said Zedok. “Nobody can be everywhere at once.”

Jack was silent for a moment. “You didn’t see it,” she finally said.

“See what?” Zedok leaned closer. “I’m not stupid, Jack. I can feel it too. This place, it’s like…I don’t know, vibrating or something. Like somebody is here. The last time I felt like this, I was on that giant pony ship.”

“Yeah,” said Jack. “I feel it too.” She paused, and then looked at Zedok. “You know, for the longest time, I was the strongest biotic I knew.”

“You are the strongest,” said Zedok. “I’ve read all the comics. Even Samara couldn’t beat you. Even SHEPARD couldn’t.”

Jack smiled. “Shepard…you know, that son-of-a-bitch probably would have tried, too if it came down to it.” Her expression became more serious. “But then I met her.”

“You mean Starlight.”

Jack nodded. “Whatever they did to her, it’s like what they did to me. Except I don’t even think she needs all those machines. Even with them, she outpaced me years ago. But compared to Cadence…”

“Cadence was that strong?”

Jack shook her head. “I don’t…things like her. I didn’t know they could exist. And it frightens me. It goddamn terrifies me.”

“You? But you’re not afraid of anything! You’ve stared a Reaper in the face!”

“Yeah, a big machine. But not this.” Jack paused, considering. “And it’s not really her personally. Not the pony. What she represents.”

“What she represents?” Zedok’s eyes widened. “You mean Starlight. You’re afraid that she could become like that.”

“She’s trying like hell. The implants, the surgeries. She’s in constant pain, and if she keeps going deeper, she’s not going to be able to pull herself back out.”

“I get it,” said Zedok, taking a sip of her own drink. Even with her asari biology, she was not feeling any different. She was starting to wonder if the bartender had given her something nonalcoholic.

“And then the Princess’s offer. For Starlight to stay. It shouldn’t make me nervous, because I know her. Better than anyone. And I know she’s going to make the right choice. But I’m so afraid she won’t.”
“You mean you’re afraid she’ll stay behind and leave you?”
“No. I’m afraid she won’t.”

Lyra could not believe what she was seeing. She blinked again and again, trying to force her mind to find some rational reason, some logical conclusion as to how the pony standing before her could be real. In her heart, though- -not the mechanical pump that hummed endlessly in her metal chest, but her real heart- -she knew.

“Bon Bon,” she said, kneeling. “It…it’s you…” She reached forward, but Bon Bon slapped her robotic hands away and gracefully took a step out of Lyra’s reach. From the way she moved, there was no doubt in Lyra’s mind- -which only made the look of frigid disgust on her face more confusing.

“Lyra,” she said. “You should be dead.”

“I survived,” laughed Lyra. “They pulled me out. They rebuilt me. And all this time…all this time! I thought I had lost you!” She reached in to hug Bon Bon, and once again Bon Bon moved out of Lyra’s reach.

Lryra gaped, not knowing why Bon Bon was reacting this way. For a moment, she wondered if she had gotten the wrong pony, if this could have somehow been a different earth pony that looked identical to her deceased lover. “Bon Bon,” she said. “I don’t understand.”

“You should have stayed dead, Lyra.”

Lyra stared in shock. “But…Bon Bon…”

“Sweetie Drops?” said Calcite, looking from Bon Bon to Lyra. “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

“Sweetie Drops?” said Lyra, confused. “Why are you calling her that?”

“Because it’s her name,” said Calcite. “The battle, the one where I lost my legs. She was the one who coordinated it. It’s only because of her that we were able ambush the Questlords.”

Lyra’s eyes widened, and she looked back at Bon Bon who continued to stare up at her defiantly. “No no no no no,” she said, standing up. “Bon Bon, he’s lying. He has to be lying. You didn’t- -you couldn’t! I know you! Better than anypony! The way you like imported oats, or how you think parasprites or cute, or that weird way you sit on benches- -he has to be lying!”

“He’s telling the truth, Lyra,” said Bon Bon, coldly. “And to be honest, I’m surprised you never figured it out. Frankly, I didn’t expect you would ever have to. Because I oversaw your death.”

“Bon Bon…”

Bon Bon burst into laughter. “Do you know how many times I thought about it? How many times I picked up a knife, or counted out the necessary dose of poison, calculating just how much it would take? That was my mission, after all. To kill the Elder Knight of the Questlords.”

“No, no,” said Lyra. She stepped back from Bon Bon, as if that would somehow protect her. “I met you in the business district of Canterlot. It was raining, and you were wet- -and I brought you home until the storm passed- -”

“Because I had already been tracking your daily routine. Because I knew that you couldn’t help yourself from giving aid to a pitiful, soaked, helpless mare.”

“Sweetie Drops, what are you saying?”

“Nothing, honey,” she said. “You already know I was an intelligence officer. Lyra was my mission. A mission I changed as soon as I figured out that I could bring the Questlords into an ambush just by pretending to be captured.”

“But- -I was trying to SAVE YOU!” screamed Lyra. “I was going to leave the war! For YOU! I loved you! I STILL love you! I never stopped! We were going to get a house together in Ponyville, we were going to adopt little fillies and colts- -”

Bon Bon sighed. “It was all an act, Lyra. I’m a spy. Or I was. I’m retired now. My job was to infiltrate and defeat the Questlords. Which I did. I didn’t expect them to bring back…well, whatever was left of you.”

“But- -”

“Lyra,” said Bon Bon, looking Lyra directly in her single eye. “Stop. Just stop. You shouldn’t be alive. Just pull your head out of that abomination and let it go. I don’t like looking at you. I don’t want you in my life. I never did. Just go die. And stay dead this time.” She stepped away from the bench. “Calcite. Come. We’re going home.”

Calcite paused, looking up at Lyra. His jaw quivered, as if he were trying to find words. He looked horrified, and Lyra knew that he was because he of all ponies could understand what that battle had meant.

“Calcite.”

“Yes, honey,” he said, pulling himself after her. He stopped and looked up at Lyra. “I’m sorry, Lyra. I’m so, so sorry.”

Then he rolled off after his wife, leaving Lyra alone. She stood for a moment, showing no expression or emotion as she watched them grow smaller and eventually fade out of sight. Then, when there was finally no pony around, the stupor began to lift. Lyra fell to her knees, and found that she could no longer control the weeping that overtook her and wracked her body without draining even the slightest fraction of her unbearable despair.

In a different park, far away from the desolate memorial, a pair of Cores sat on a wooden bench. Starlight looked out over the rolling fields, watching in the distance as children laughed and played, chasing each other and flying kites. They were all different species and races, all working together as though they did not notice the fact that some of them were made of crystal and others of flesh. For all Starlight knew, they were not even cognizant of that distinction.

One child, however, sat apart from the others. In one of the tall, branching trees that shaded the bench, Flurry Heart sat perched high on a branch. She sat like a large-winged bird, watching the other children play form a safe distance, knowing that they could not see her through the leaves. She seemed to not be able to take her eyes off them, even though she showed no inclination to actually go and play with them.

“Is she normally like that?” asked Starlight, looking up at Sunburst and immediately feeling herself blush. He had partially changed out of his flight suit, replacing it with a more simplistic type of uniform and donning a small pair of glasses. Starlight had quickly come to the conclusion that he was quite handsome, but not just because his physically fit body or the adorable sock-markings on his feet. It was the way he always seemed so happy, as if he was enjoying every moment outside to its fullest.

Sunburst sighed. “I’ve tried to get her to socialize with her peers, but she just won’t listen to me.”

“Because I have no peers,” said Flurry Heart from above. “I am a living goddess with significant military responsibilities. I fly starships in combat missions- -or would, if there was still combat. I have no need to socialize with children.”

“See?” said Sunburst. “As stubborn as her mother.”

“You really care about her,” noted Starlight.

Sunburst nodded. “I’m her mentor. I taught her how to fly, the tactics, how to navigate the skies. And eventually she is going to surpass me. Eventually.”

“It’s more than that,” said Flurry Heart, still looking out at the other children. “Mother is very busy, and Shining Armor is…himself. You are like a father to me. My real father.”

“Flurry Heart, Shining Armor loves you.”

“So he claims. But I don’t trust anypony who would betray Mother with an insect.”

“An insect?” said Starlight.

“It’s a long story,” said Sunburst. “And not a very pleasant one.”

He leaned back, and Starlight sat up. They were silent for a moment, and then she found herself putting her head on his shoulder. He allowed it- -although Flurry Heart’s full attention suddenly fell on Starlight instead of the other children.

“You know, you might be the first stallion I’ve actually ever talked to,” said Starlight. “I mean, extensively.”

“Really?” said Sunburst.

“There aren’t ponies in the Milk-Path. Just me. And Lyra I guess.”

“It sounds so lonely.”

“It isn’t. I have friends. Lots of them. Just…no pony friends.”

“I’m your friend, aren’t I?”

Starlight smiled. “Yeah. I guess you are.”

Sunburst stared out at the landscape around them, and the wind started to blow just enough to make the leaves of the trees rustle and the light through their leaves shift. “So,” he said. “The Princess offered you a chance to stay with us.”

“She did,” said Starlight. She paused, waiting for Sunburst to tell her why she should stay. He did not, though. He just seemed to consider for a long moment.

“What do you think so far?” he asked at last. “If you had to make the choice right now. What would you choose?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Starlight. “But…if I had to…yes. I would refuse.”

“Really.”

Starlight nodded, and pulled herself closer to Sunburst. “I would have to.”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“Yes,” said Starlight. “Yes I do.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she said. “We’re not equal yet.”

“We? You mean the Cores.”

Starlight nodded. “I don’t know how many of us there are. Thousands? Tens of thousands? You and me, we got out. But I think we’re the only ones. Out of all those ponies, all trapped and dying. Only us two…”

“You want to try to save them.”

“I have to save them. Because nopony else will. You know that. Probably better than anypony. We’re not machines, Sunburst. We’re ponies. Equal to every other pony. And eventually, I’m going to have to fight for that equality.”

Sunburst paused for a moment, thinking. “So,” he said. “You actually consider yourself a Core?”

Starlight separated from him. “What do you mean? Of course I’m a Core. So are you!”

“Am I?” said Sunburst. “Because I don’t think of myself that way. To me, I’m just a pony. The same as any other pony. Being a ‘Core’ is a part of my past, not my identity.”

“Do you seriously believe that? Even with those implants?”

“The implants don’t matter here, Starlight. Being a Core has no meaning. The equality you want? We already have it.”

Starlight looked out at the children in the distance, watching as a pair of Pegasi raced by pursued by a gryphon. “I know,” she said. “I’m not an idiot. But I don’t want the equality for me. I don’t really matter. It’s them I want to help, not me.”

“But you do matter, Starlight,” said Sunburst. “You matter to me.” He looked out over the fields before him, his expression stony. “But I can see that this is something you really care about. So you have to think very, very carefully. Because if you choose to stay, you won’t ever be able to fight against Equestria.”

“That isn’t true,” said Flurry Heart.

“Yes, it is,” said Sunburst. “As long as I’m alive, I will do everything in my power to preserve the peace. Even in the latter years of the war, I saw enough bloodshed to last ten lifetimes.”

Flurry Heart fluttered down from the tree. “But you were the best. You ARE the best. You won so many battles, defeated so many foes- -”

“I sent thousands of sailors to their graves, and their Cores with them. I lost friends, and I’ve seen entire planets leveled.” He looked at Starlight. “Do you know what they do when they take a planet, Starlight? They don’t leave survivors. Everypony dies. Except the unicorns.”

“What happens to the unicorns?” asked Flurry Heart.

Sunburst did not answer. Starlight did not need him to. She was able to understand the implication and what he meant- -and it made her physically ill.

“War isn’t pleasant,” said Sunburst, simply. He was addressing Flurry Heart as though he were giving a lesson, but Starlight could not help but feel like he was actually talking to her. “There isn’t any glory, or excitement. Just pain, and loss. I did what I had to in order to protect the Crystal Empire, but I will die before I allow the War to return.” He turned to Starlight. “If you join us, our treaties bind you. Keeping the peace will fall to you as well.”

“Then I guess that makes my decision pretty easy, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know. Does it?”

Starlight considered the thought for a moment, and then a minute, and then more. Logically, it was simple. Her ultimate goal was clear: to free her people and spread equality across the galaxy. On an emotional level, though, the whole thing was so much more confusing. It was tempting, to say the least. She had not grown up wanting to be a revolutionary- -she had not grown up wanting to be anything because she had spent her entire childhood and early adulthood suspended in amniotic gel and linked to a starship. On some level, though, she wished that Sunburst could be right. That she could live as though that day had never happened, as though she had never been taken- -like a normal, ordinary pony.

Before she could eventually come to a conclusion, though, there were two loud bursts of blue light on either side of the bench as a pair of teleportation spells engaged. Two of the massive, chitinous guards appeared, the pale blue irises of their green eyes narrowing in the light and searching rapidly until they fell on Flurry Heart.

One of them released a low sound that sounded nearly like words, but in a language that Starlight did not understand. Flurry Heart looked up.

“Ver per as’h Ie’an Sunburst,” she said, nearly whining.

Her brothers remained silent. They did not blink, and although they made a slight rushing sound, Starlight did not see them breathing. She could not help but wonder what kind of alien monstrosity could have given birth to these creatures, or how the Princess’s handsome consort had been willing to impregnate it.

“I have to go,” said Flurry Heart, standing up. “Mother wants to speak with me.”

“Don’t look so sad about something like that,” said Sunburst. “It’s good that she takes time to talk to you.”

“I know…but I wanted to stay with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Go to your mother. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Be prepared for advanced formation training.”

Flurry Heart’s sad expression became a grin and she saluted. “Yes, sir!”

There was another flash of light, this one from three teleportation singularities. Flurry Heart and her two brothers vanished, pulled away by Cadence’s magic. Sunburst watched them go, and then reached out a white-patterned hoof to Starlight. “Come with me,” he said.

“Where?” said Starlight, taking his hoof.

“Let’s go for a walk. If you don’t stay, I want you to see the Imperium before you have to go. Not the caves and service tunnels that Flurry Heart likes so much, but the surface. So you can understand why I want to protect it.”

“You mean you so you can try to convince me to stay.”

Sunburst shrugged. “In all honesty? Yes. I would like you to stay. But I also want you to live your life, like I have. The choice is yours, and you are free to make it.” He grinned slyly. “Also, there is an ice-cream stand on the other side of the secondary aqueduct canal. Flurry Heart isn’t supposed to have any before dinner, but I don’t think it will spoil either of our meals.”

“Meals?” Starlight giggled. “Are you taking me to dinner, Sunburst?”

“If you’ll go with me, of course. Unless you’d rather have the prepared food that Cadence will no doubt try to supply you with. Or, I don’t know, graze on the field here. We are horses, after all, we can do that.”

Starlight laughed and stood up. “Of course I will, Sunburst. Go with you, I mean.”

They trotted off, away from the shade of the trees and into the rolling fields beyond. For just a moment, Starlight seemed to forget that the pair of them were Cores at all. For that short time, at least, she was able to allow herself to believe that they really were just two ordinary ponies.

When Lyra returned to the accommodations that she had originally seemed like a prison, she was not in the mood to talk to anyone at all. The guard standing outside seemed to notice this and stepped back from the door far more than was necessary to allow her to pass.

Inside, Lyra quickly moved through the hallways. She was not sure where she was going, exactly. For the last five hours, she had just wondered around, her mind in a fog and the anger slowly building, growing hotter and more potent until finally collapsing into a hideous, cold emptiness. She no longer had a preference for where she was, but on some level, she hoped that she could find Zedok. Even if she did, Lyra was not sure she could explain what had happened, and how things had just changed- -she just needed a friend.

Lyra entered one of the cavernous antichambers that branched into the complex and charged the crystalline lamps with her magic. The room slowly filled with light, and instead of finding Zedok, Lyra found a turian staring back at her as the shadows receded.

Beri’s cybernetic pupils narrowed in the glowing light, and she smiled. Seeing a turian smile was not a pleasant sight. The fact that she had been lurking in the dark made it worse.

“Hello, Lyra,” she said.

“No,” said Lyra. “I’m not dealing with you right now, turian. Get out of my way.”

“Aww,” said Beri as Lyra pushed past her. “Did somepony have a bad day?”

Lyra clenched one of her fists, feeling the metal charge with biotic energy. She paused, though, and turned slowly to Beri. “I’m not in the mood to deal with you. Go. Away. NOW.”

Beri raised both of her hands in surrender. “Alright. You win.” She started walking toward the door. “Whatever you say, Elder Knight.”

Lyra froze, and she saw Beri grinning. “What did you just call me?”

“What can I say?” said Beri. “I’m a stickler for proper titles.”

“How could you possibly have known that?” Lyra’s eyes widened. “Where you watching me?”

“No. I was researching you. The things I found…” Beri stepped closer to Lyra, still grinning. Something about the way she moved gave Lyra pause; it was as if for just a moment Beri had forgotten how to move naturally and for just a brief second moved far more quickly before catching herself. “The last Elder of the Questlords of Inverness, a direct descendent from a bloodline of knights stretching back millennia. Hundreds of successful military operations: rescues, planetary conquest, abject destruction of entire worlds- -and a body count in the tens of thousands.”

“And a turian of all people is going to lecture me on this?” spat Lyra. “I regret nothing, apart from being a young fool and letting myself get stabbed in the back.”

“Lecture? No, of course not! Lyra, I mention this because I admire you.”

“You what?”

“You don’t disappoint. I can’t stop looking at you, Lyra.” She stepped close- -too close. “At that body…” She touched Lyra’s chest, slowly drawing her fingers across the metal and moaning softly.

“You sick buck!” cried Lyra. Her rage had already been building, and Beri had just suddenly made herself a target. Lyra reached out and struck her, immediately realizing that she had hit too hard- -and not caring.

Instead of crumpling to the floor, though, Beri simply raised one of her arms and blocked the blow. It should have been enough to stumble a full-grown krogan, but she barely seemed to notice.

“What the hell?” said Lyra, instinctively stepping back from Beri. Something was wrong.

Beri laughed- -a horrible, flange-ridden wheezing sound. Then she removed one of her sleeves, revealing an arm underneath that was clearly robotic in nature.

“I’m like you, Lyra,” she said, flexing the narrow limb and admiring the thin artificial muscle that made the motions possible. “It’s not just this arm, either, although it was the first. I had it replaced at age ten. Then the other. Then the legs. The eyes. The rest.”

“You didn’t…”

Beri nodded. “When it comes to this job, you need every advantage you can get. And to get those advantages, you have to be willing to sacrifice, right? Like you did.”

“Don’t compare us,” snapped Lyra.

“But are we really that different? My body was weak, so I cut it away. Just like you did.”

Lyra lunged forward and picked Beri up by the neck. Beri attempted to resist, but her eyes widened when she realized that she was not nearly as strong as she thought she was.

“I am NOTHING like you!” screamed Lyra. “This body, do you think I WANTED THIS? Do you have any idea what I would give, what I would trade if I could just go back to being a real pony? To have the life that they- -that SHE- -took from me?”

Beri shifted quickly, getting one arm free and striking at Lyra’s face. Lyra pulled away, protecting her horn, and Beri fell to the ground. As she did, a large shadow fell over the pair as Darien entered the room. His eight eyes looked down at them, one to the other.

“Are you fighting?” he said. “Please, don’t fight. Especially you, Ms. Tyros. You will not win.”

“Yes, I would,” said Beri. “She may be a knight, but I’m a Spec- -”

Her words collapsed into a horrible scream as Lyra grasped one of her arms and twisted it, charging her own limb with amplified biotic strength and tearing Beri’s cybernetic appendage out of its socket. It cracked and bent, writhing rapidly and spasming as its connections were severed. Pulling it out was barely difficult, though, and once it was removed, Beri stumbled back, clutching the damaged, leaking hole in shock- -at which point Lyra immediately slammed the severed limb into her head, knocking her down.

“You think you’re superior? You could have had everything I wanted- -and you threw it all away!” Lyra charged her horn, feeling the biotic energy dripping from it as it transferred to her hands. “But you are right about one thing. Structurally, we are quite similar. Meaning…” she knelt down, and Beri tried to skitter away- -but not before Lyra was able to put her in a headlock. “That if I twist off your head, you die. Just like I will.”

Beri clawed at Lyra’s arms, but to her credit, she did not beg for her life.

“Lyra!” cried Darien. “Please, stop!”

Lyra tightened her grip, and for a moment, she thought she would do it. She wanted to so badly- -but managed to stop herself. She realized that although Beri had provoked her at the worst possible time, she was not the cause of this anger. She was not the one who needed to pay.

Instead of finishing her, Lyra threw Beri away from her and stood up. “Don’t speak to me again, turian. Ever. Next time, I kill you. Do you understand?”

“You should have finished me now,” said Beri, picking up and clutching her still twitching severed arm.

“Don’t tempt me.” Lyra walked to the door, and stopped in front of Darien. “Move,” she said, and he did. Quickly.

As Lyra stomped off down the crystal corridor, Darien approached Beri. “Your arm is broken,” he said.

“I can see that,” said Beri, standing.

“We need to get you to Armchair. He can- -”

“Do you seriously think I don’t know how to repair myself? We are not all backward idiots like yourself, yahg.” Beri left the room in a huff, not accepting Darien’s help.

Darien watched her go, and continued to stand in the center of the room for several more seconds before his body shifted. His flesh tore away from itself, reassembling and increasing in density. Within seconds, he had reassembled himself into a copy of Jack.

“Well,” said Chrysalis, smiling. “This will be interesting…”

Several minutes later, Lyra reached what must have been assigned as her quarters. She did not go there to rest, though. Instead, her target was a large rectangular box. It was something she had brought with her from Parnack. Starlight, apparently, did not really have any conception of bringing supplies. For her and Jack alone, that was not really a problem, but for a larger crew, Lyra and Zedok had packed a portable unit of essentials.

The casket-like box contained a number of items, ranging from food to extra medical supplies that Zedok might need depending on any emergency she might encounter. Some of the items in the box, though, Zedok did not know about.

Lyra put her robotic hand on what otherwise looked like a seamless flat plate on the box. She jolted it with her magic, and the metal separated into a narrow drawer. She pulled it out and inspected the contents before removing a long, white object.

The electronics of the sniper rifle hummed to life as Lyra lifted it, and at her command the barrel and stock automatically unfolded and extended. Lyra inspected it and determined that it was adequate for what she needed to do.

She closed the drawer and folded the rifle, placing it on the locking mount on her back. There certainly was much work ahead of her.

Zedok had no idea how the sun set on the Imperium. Her background was in medicine, not in astronomy- -and even if it had been, she got the impression that the means by which this structure worked were beyond the understanding of even the most experienced asari astrophysicists. However it worked, though, it was starting to go down. The land was getting dark.

Above her, the sky was becoming clearer, which was an odd sight. It seemed to develop an unusual texture and system of colors as the angle of light through the atmosphere changed. This, Zedok knew, was largely because she was actually looking upward at a different populated surface, something that made her dizzy to think about.

The scenery on the surface, though, was actually quite beautiful. Its density was surprisingly low, with medium-sized inhabited crystal structures emerging from neatly trimmed artificially planted forests. Even though it was pretty, though, it still felt strange. Zedok had spent almost all of her life on starships with her father, and her conception of populated areas had largely been shaped by cramped and enclosed orbital facilities or utilitarian outer colonies. This place did not feel like that, but it also did not feel like any of the planets she had been on before. There were no vast, harsh forests and swamps like on Parnack or irradiated wastelands like on her homeworld Tuchanka. Instead, the Imperium felt more like the Citadel, where an artificial, alien, and vaguely threatening structure had been planted with ferns and flowers to give it some semblance of a natural dwelling.

Even stranger were the ponies. Zedok had experience with ponies; she had met Starlight when she was fifteen, and her stepmother not long after. She had been aboard a pony ship and talked to them- -but seeing so many of them living in one place felt bizarre. They were tiny and adorable, but something about their large eyes and lack of hands was unsettlingly bizarre.

The crystal ponies seemed happy, though, although weary. When Zedok approached them, they would usually move out of her way and give her a wide berth. Zedok was not sure why she took so much offense to that, but assumed it was an artifact of her asari biology.

Zedok eventually came to the edge of what appeared to be a playground and stopped. When she looked over the fence, she almost burst out laughing. While the various alien pieces of pony playground equipment remained largely empty, the children had instead busied themselves with climbing over Darien, who was sitting in the middle of a gravel pit, apparently meditating. The size difference was comical: he could easily have fit three or four of the pony children in one hand and he towered over them. As such, he hardly seemed to notice their presence as they used him as an impromptu jungle-gym.

Still on the verge of laughter, Zedok opened the gate to the playground. Several of Darien’s eyes automatically detected the movement and focused on her position. He opened his other eyes as well and blinked. Despite the number, his eyes were a very soft color that Zedok found immensely attractive.

The children also looked up at Zedok. Unlike the adult ponies, they were not well equipped to hide their emotions. Zedok saw the look of panic on their faces as they leapt behind Darien, hiding.

“Scary alien!” cried one. “Mister Darien! Don’t let her eat us!”

“Eat you? Why would I- -” Zedok tried to step forward but was interrupted as the children screamed in terror. She looked up at Darien. “Darien, what have you been telling them?”

“Me? Nothing,” said Darien. “I would never speak ill of you, boss.”

“Then why are they freaking out? More importantly, why are they not afraid of you?”

“Are you saying I appear frightening?” Darien sounded hurt.

“Darien, I didn’t say that!”

From behind him, one of the children jumped out and took a defensive stance. He was a tiny griffon- -a kitten, Zedok supposed- -and he puffed out his feathers to try to look as large as possible.

“Don’t be mean to mister Darien!” he squeaked. “Or- -or- -I bitechu!”

Slightly amused, Darien picked up the griffon and very gently set it on his shoulder. “Zedok is not scary,” he said. “Not usually, anyway. She is friend.”

The children seemed to accept this, but remained wary of Zedok as they went about playing as far away from her as possible. The griffon on Darien’s shoulder remained as puffy as possible as though that would be intimidating rather than adorable.

“Perhaps a cultural difference?” suggested Darien. “I don’t think you look scary.”

“Thanks, Darien.” Zedok could not help but feel self-conscious, though, and felt herself touching the scars on her face. The krogan in her took their presence as a badge of honor, a tribute to her ability to survive. As an asari, though, their presence hurt far more than the initial injury that had created them.

Darien pulled the griffon off his shoulder. “Gerold, please go play with your friends. I need to be talking to Zedok.”

Gerold hesitated, but quickly got distracted by a pair of winged ponies that were playing ball. He ran off to play with them, and Darien stood up.

“Do not take their reaction to heart,” he said. He put his hand on Zedok’s shoulder. Despite its immense size, it did not feel heavy. “You are not yahg, and yet, you are still most beautiful person I know.”

“Are you saying that because you actually believe it or because I’m higher on the hierarchy than you?”

Darien shook his head. “I would never insult you by lying. Such would be against the Column.”

Zedok sighed. She understood that the dynamic of their relationship required that she be explicitly stated as Darien’s superior, but that ever-present requirement had grown tiresome quickly. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t even care. But, you know…damn it. Kids are afraid of me.”

“And tell me, then. Were I to go to Thessia, what reaction would the asari children have?”

Zedok laughed. “They’d be terrified.” Of course, they might also be terrified of her. “But you’re not actually scary, though.”

“Now you see, then.”

Zedok was silent for a moment. Then she lightly punched Darien in the arm.

“Ow,” he said passively. “I will take that as a sign of understanding.”

“Yeah,” said Zedok. She paused again, and then smiled at him. “You know, you’re actually pretty good with kids.”

“Care for my younger cousins once fell to me. My experience is not large, though.”

“You know,” said Zedok, looking at the group of playing ponies and one griffon. “In a few years, I’ll probably be able to have kids.”

Darien blinked all eight of his eyes in surprise and looked down at Zedok. She looked up and smiled.

“The differences might be too great,” he tried to explain. “I am yahg. You are not.”

“I’m asari. We’re compatible with everything. Trust me. I could probably make babies with Starlight if I wanted to.”

“Well,” said Darien. “That image I will fail to remove for some time. However…it is good to know.”

Zedok leaned against him. The children were now starting to end their games and return home. Within half an hour, the playground was empty, and the asari and the yahg watched the setting of the Imperium sun over the crystal horizon.

The light faded, and Starlight found herself standing alone with Sunburst on a small bridge overlooking a shallow canal. They had been talking for so long, Starlight had hardly noticed that it was getting darker, or how the ponies around them were returning to their homes with their families.

“Sunburst?” said Starlight, looking up at the sky. There were not stars, exactly, but rather the distant webs of the cities far away built into the crystal shell that surrounded the Imperium. It was both beautiful and bizarre, but provided comparatively little light. “It’s getting dark. Actually, no. It has gotten dark. We should go.”

“Sure,” said Sunburst. “But do you mind waiting just one more minute?”

Starlight smiled. “One more minute? Sure. It’s not like I sleep anyway.”

Sunburst pointed down at the water that was trickling below the bridge. “Any moment now. Just watch.”

Starlight stood up, leaning over the rail and looking down at the passing water. At first, she had no idea what Sunburst was pointing to, and she strained her eyes to see what it might be. Her sensory implants, however, detected only water and fish.

She was so dedicated to optimizing her sensory equipment to close-range scanning that she almost failed to notice the sudden surge of light. It started off small at first, but then flickered and grew. It was a strange, pulsing blue-green that grew into a chorus of subtle shades. Starlight realized that it was coming from the fish, which resembled exorbitantly long segmented worms. Their light as they schooled and danced as they flowed upstream reflected off the clean crystalline bed of the canal bottom, and the crystals seemed to amplify the hues and break them into sparkling light that quickly illuminated the entire stream.

For a moment, Starlight was not able to speak. She had seen many amazing things in the short time since she had been freed from her status as an engine component, but she now came to realize that nearly all of it had been viewed through the sterile and abstract systems that fed the sights of the universe into the tech components of her brain. This, though, she saw with her own eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” she said at last.

Sunburst nodded. He, too, was engrossed by the bioluminescence of the fish. “The hospital that I woke up in overlooks this park,” he explained. “It took almost two years for me to learn to walk again. Sometimes they would wheel me out here, but never at night. Then, one day, I tried to walk on my own. I collapsed. It was the next morning before they found me, but I saw this…”

Starlight smiled. “Thank you for showing me,” she said. She looked at him, his face lit by the shifting colors of the fish below, and found herself wanting to lean against him- -but a question occurred to her, one that had been nagging her for most of the day. One that she did not initially think she had the need to ask.

“Sunburst?” she said. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” he said, jokingly. “But seriously? Yes. You can ask me anything, Starlight. Anything at all. Anything I can do to help you, I will.”

“Is there a Mrs. Sunburst?”

Sunburst frowned, but he did not hesitate in his response. “Yes,” he said.

“Oh,” said Starlight, feeling her heart sink. Suddenly the light of the bioluminescent fish looked much less intense. “I see.” She put on a smile, realizing that of course Sunburst would be married. He had been living in the Crystal Empire since he was a child, it only made sense. “Well, what’s she like?”

“You’ve already met her, actually.” Sunburst’s tone was strangely neutral.

“Really?” Starlight thought back through her day, trying to recall the various ponies she had met. Apart from Cadence- -who was quite conspicuously already married- -and the shapeshifter Chrysalis, she could not recall having met any mares. “When?”

“It’s Flurry Heart, Starlight. I’m betrothed to Flurry Heart.”

Starlight felt her jaw drop. “Wh- -what?” she said. “Sunburst, she’s EIGHT!” Starlight took a step back. “You’re- -you’re some kind of pervert, aren’t you?!”

“It isn’t like that,” said Sunburst, firmly. “I love Flurry Heart. Like a daughter. I practically raised her- -no, I DID raise her. But she’s a Princess, and I’m a war hero. Princess Cadence decided that we should be wed when she comes of age.”

“And you just accepted that?”

“After everything she’s done for me? Starlight, I can’t defy the Goddess.

“Does Flurry Heart know about this?”

Sunburst shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. Or at least she doesn’t understand. I don’t want her to. Not yet. She’s just a kid. She should be on the playground or playing with dolls, not worrying about strategic command and creating the next generation in the Cadence dynasty. I can’t protect her from everything, but I can try.”

“It’s not fair,” said Starlight. “I don’t care if she is a Princess, she can’t do that to you. She just can’t!”

“I agree. It isn’t fair. But not to me. I’ve sworn an oath to serve Cadence in whatever capacity she needs. But Flurry Heart didn’t. She was just born into this.”

“Then do something about it!”

“Like what? What could I do, Starlight?”

Starlight started to answer, but stopped. She could not think of an answer short of him walking into the throne room and demanding that Cadence release him from his duty- -and having met Cadence, that thought was terrifying even to Starlight. So, unable to answer, they both fell silent.

“What about you?” asked Sunburst at last.

“There aren’t any ponies in the Milk Path Galaxy.”

“That doesn’t quite answer the question, does it?”

Starlight frowned. “Do you think I’d have a relationship like that with a non-pony?”

“I dated a griffon once.”

“A griffon? Seriously? When?”

“When I was a lot younger and a lot more rebellious. It didn’t work, though. She tried to eat me.”

“That’s usually a sign the relationship is going good.”

Sunburst seemed to take a moment to get the joke, and then suddenly realized what she meant and burst into suppressed laughter. “Starlight!”

Starlight smiled, but she could not help but actually consider what he was suggesting. She had not really had much time to meet many individuals, and it was not that she did not understand attractiveness in other species. It was just that she never really thought about aliens that way. The only possible exception was Jack, and even then, Starlight’s feelings were mixed. Jack had slowly become Starlight’s most trusted friend, and had Jack been a man, the relationship might have taken a very different course over the last few months.

“No,” she said. “I can’t afford that sort of thing. Not yet.”

“I see,” said Sunburst, taking his spot on the railing next to Starlight. “But be careful with that attitude. Or one day you might wake up a five-hundred year old mare, wondering where all that time went.”

“I could say the opposite to you. Don’t marry children.”

“I’m not married to her yet,” said Sunburst. “‘Betrothed’. As in, will be married in the future. Ten years in the future, actually. Which has, of course, not stopped Shining Armor from starting the wedding planning.”

Starlight giggled. “I just imagined you walking down the aisle in a white dress!”

“Well, between you and me, Shining Armor’s track record with weddings is not exactly great. Knowing him, I probably will.” He paused. “Actually, if you are still around then, maybe you can be my best mare.”

“It would be my honor!” Starlight laughed, but her laughter trailed off. “You know, the last time I can remember seeing you, I remember us playing together in your father’s library. I never thought I’d hear you asking for me to be a best mare the next time we met…”

“Did you have a different question in mind?”

Starlight once again did not answer, even though on some level she knew that she had- -but that was part of the different timeline, the life she would have had if things had gone differently. Her fate had already been set, as had Sunburst’s. There was no escaping it, Starlight realized- -and once again found herself hating Equestria for what it had taken from her.

“Starlight?” said Sunburst.

“Just, you know, thinking.”

Sunburst leaned over and put his foreleg around Starlight, holding her close. She immediately blushed, but she did not resist and let the embrace continue.

“That isn’t like you,” he said. “Thinking and all. You never had to think or study, life just always came naturally to you, even as a child. I was actually really jealous of that, but now, I think I admire that about you.”

“You were jealous of me? Sunburst, I was jealous of you! You always knew how to do everything, and you were reading those big musty books before I even knew my letters!” Starlight did not bother to note the fact that, since then, she had not actually learned how to read Equestrian.

They both laughed, and then stood in silence for a long moment, watching the light below.

“So,” said Starlight, eventually. “I was right.”

“Right? About what?”

“A griffon, Sunburst? You really are a pervert.” She snuggled in closer to him, feeling the warmth of his coat and the cold metal of the implants that matched hers. “So? Aren’t you going to tell me about her?”

Riflery was a mostly lost art in pony culture, an obsolete skill that traditionally belonged to the unicorn nobility, a task meant for leisurely hunting instead of combat. Despite this fact, it had been one of the many skills that Lyra had been taught. If anything, it had only become more important when her cybernetic hooves gave way to arms in the midst of a culture that fought largely with projectile weapons instead of magic or condensed particle beams.

Lyra looked through the scope of the sniper rifle, but finding it inadequate deactivated the computer sights. Instead, she stabilized it against her shoulder with her magic from her vantage point atop a crystal building. In the dark of night, nopony saw her. Nopony could. But she saw what she needed to.

Through the scope, she looked through the window of a distant crystal structure, one that had not been difficult to find. The night air was cool, and the occupants had opened their windows allowing the light of their home to flow into the streets.

Lyra watched as a pony appeared in the window, his crystalline body glimmering in the light. Despite his rear legs being confined to wheels, he approached counter and began to wash several dishes. Lyra felt a momentary spark of distant pity. Calcite was not a bad pony. He was not mean or cruel, and in a different world, he and Lyra might even have been friends. Now, though, he would be a witness. More than perhaps any pony, Lyra understood the both the durability of crystal flesh and its limits. One proton round through a kinetic accelerator to the head would be more than enough.

She could have killed him then and there, but he was not her primary target. She appeared behind him, smiling as she leaned over and kissed him. Bon Bon looked so happy, and it made Lyra sick as she watched her former lover shoe away her now-husband and take over the dishes for the half-paralyzed stallion.

Carefully, Lyra moved the reticule of the sight over Bon Bon’s head. If a proton round could kill a crystal pony, there would be almost nothing left of her above the torso. It would be quick and painless. Calcite would no doubt rush to her side, and Lyra would finish the job. It would be quick and painless, the death Calcite deserved- -but one too good for Bon Bon. Since Bon Bon was occupied washing dishes, Lyra would have more than enough time to get the perfect shot.

To Lyra’s left, a cat suddenly climbed onto the roof. It let out a questioning mew, and then approached Lyra, rubbing its face against her metal legs. It then moved out of Lyra’s peripheral vision. Lyra did not turn to look at it, but she saw the dim flash of green light and the crack of bones and flesh tearing apart and reassembling themselves.

“Do you really think you can stop me, changeling?” asked Lyra, her scope following Bon Bon’s head as the earth pony placed a pretty floral plate in the drying rack beside her sink.

“What makes you think I would want to do that?” Her voice was not her own; just hearing it, Lyra could tell that she had taken Jack’s form, even though she spoke with a cadence and tone that was unlike anything Jack herself would ever use. It seemed to drip with cruelty, as if this were nothing more than amusement for her.

“She was a spy. Cadence sent her to kill me. To pretend to love me, and then betray me. And every day, every single day I wept for having lost her…”

“I know.”

“Then you understand what I have to do.”

“Of course. Pull the trigger. She deserves it.”

Lyra felt her grip tighten on the rifle, and for a split second she nearly took the shot- -but something was wrong.

“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted her dead?” The false-Jack leaned forward, lying down beside Lyra. She was smiling and her green eyes reflected the dim orange glow that surrounded Lyra’s rifle. “I’ll even make you a deal. Kill them all. Leave no witnesses, and I’ll make sure my children take care of the bodies. There were be no signs of a crime, no signs they even existed. There will be no prosecution, no legal consequences. So do it. Kill them.”

“Why?” asked Lyra. “Why would you do that? What do you have to gain?”

“Why? Well, in part because Sweetie Drops is a loose end. A relic of the War. Her head contains a great many secrets about both sides. And it would be better if those particular memories were splattered on her kitchen walls.”

“This isn’t a joke!” snapped Lyra. “You have no idea what she did to me!”

“Don’t I? I’m a changeling. Not just any changeling. I am Chrysalis, the last changeling queen that ever will be. I can taste your love, and the hatred. I can feel how many times you wept for her, how your life collapsed around you as you became fixated on that one defining failure. Only to learn that it was all a lie, that she never loved you, that she betrayed you and has been living the life you thought you would share with her without you.”

“I loved her! And she- -she did this- -how? How could she do that? If she had just told me, just asked me- -I would have quit the Questlords then and there at her command. But this…”

Chrysalis stood up and moved out of Lyra’s range of vision. “Of course she did. Because she’s a bad pony. So END HER.”

Lyra took a breath. She began to squeeze the trigger, feeling the internal mechanisms of the gun reacting to her touch.

“Of course,” said Chrysalis. “I can’t help but wonder what he would think…”

Lyra released the trigger, but held the reticule on Bon Bon’s head. “What?”

Chrysalis’s voice changed again. This time, it became far deeper- -and Lyra felt tears well in her eyes as she heard Fenok speaking to her.

“Lyra,” he said, his voice sounding on the verge of breaking down. “How could you? You murdered a pony in her own home!”

“I had to! What she did to me- -”

“Is that supposed to be some sort of justification? Did you even accomplish anything? Did killing her bring your body back, or bring back the love you thought you had? Did you even feel better after?” He took a breath. “Lyra, I don’t know you. I can’t even look at you anymore. I thought I loved you…but after this…Lyra…”

Lyra’s gun started to shake. She was losing heart and knew it; if she did not take the shot now, she never would. She began to pull the trigger.

As she did, Bon Bon suddenly moved, kneeling down. Lyra followed her, only to see a small eggshell colored filly jump into her forelegs and hug her. Another similar colored colt followed, and behind him one made of crystal. Calcite entered, looking somewhat exasperated, but then they started laughing together.

When she saw Bon Bon’s children, Lyra threw down the gun. There was no way she could fire. She stood up and faced Chrysalis, who had now assumed the form of a younger Jack.

“You knew,” she said. “You knew she had children.”

“Of course. I assumed you would kill them too. It would not be the first time you killed fillies and colts, Lyra.”

Lyra pointed the rifle at Chrysalis. “I should kill you instead. You know that, right?”

Chrysalis sighed. “I have a distributed nervous system and protoplasmic flesh. That primitive weapon would smart quite badly, but that’s about it. It would also be very, very messy.”

“I don’t mind making a mess.”

“Really? Is that any way to repay me?”

“For torturing me?! For trying to make me kill Bon Bon?!”

“For showing you what she actually meant to you. What was that emotion you actually felt for her, Lyra Heartstrings? That love, when did it die? When did it get replaced with guilt? I can taste it. The rot. What you felt for her? It wasn’t love. It was self-hatred.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? My own actions resulted in the genocide of nearly my entire species. I had over thirty billion children. Now I have less than fifty. If anyone can understand that kind of regret, it is me.”

“Don’t expect me to thank you.” Lyra looked back, and saw Bon Bon stick her head out of her kitchen window. She looked around, as if on some level she was aware of what had just nearly befallen her. Then she gently closed the shutters. Lyra watched, and then sighed.

“Come on,” she said, reluctantly gesturing toward Chrysalis and the edge of the fire escape that led to the roof. “Let’s go back. I don’t have anything to do here anymore. And I need to sleep. I need to sleep very, very badly.”

Chapter 18: The Key

One of the drones approached, the deepening scars on its body glowing with blue luminescence as its flesh and steel corroded. It stumbled toward Xyuka, as if it were asking for her to help it. She only watched as its rear leg disconnected, and then as it fell. It writhed in pain as its surgically reconstructed body tore apart and its organs spilled out onto the floor and began to decay with the same blue glow.

Xyuka sighed and looked out at the massive damage to the Crimson Horizon. An enormous gash had been torn into the port hull. In some areas, it was sparking with blue energy as the material of the ship was eaten away by the reaction, a disease digging deeper through both the organic and inorganic portions. Xyuka had managed to contain the spread of the infection, but many of Sunset Shimmer’s drones had been sacrificed in the process. They inevitably became infected with the Voqutan energy, and it was not compatible with life.

The fact that this had even been able to occur disturbed Xyuka greatly. She had not anticipated the presence of any such technology in this reality. Its presence alone would be a profound anomaly, but the fact that someone had figured out how to use it six billion years after its creators had died out sat on the verge of impossibility. Let alone a person who would be both intelligent and moronic enough to use the energy of the Blue-Lit Machines to create a weapon.

“Soy-chet, I think we need to adjust our plans. This damage is too extensive.”

Sunset Shimmer appeared beside her. “No. I can’t stop now. There isn’t time.”

“But the structural damage puts you at extreme danger.”

“My body will hold. I will survive, and I will conquer.”

“But if they breach the shields- -”

“They will not. And it is not your position to question me, Xyuka.”

Xyuka bowed. “Yes, Lady Sunset. My sincerest apologies. I was only concerned for your welfare.”

“I’m less concerned with the damage and more concerned with the support unit.” Sunset Shimmer gestured down at her body. Instead of her normal long robes, her body was wrapped in a complex system of metal and mechanisms that linked to several of the extensive Core implants that ran down her back. “Will it work, Xyuka? Because it has to.”

“Of course it will work,” said Xyuka. “I built it.” She turned away from the repairs, instead opting to work with something that was actually functioning properly. “Go ahead. Try it.”

Sunset Shimmer took a long look at Xyuka, as if wondering whether she could trust the armored pony. Then she arched her back. The cables that connected her to the Crimson Horizon shifted and then released. A small amount of liquid tricked down her back as the mechanisms on her body shifted, connecting to the holes in her spine and interfacing with her body.

The chestplate of her armor began to glow, and instead of collapsing, Sunset Shimmer took a deep breath. She took a step, and flexed her hands before looking behind her to see that she was untethered. “It actually works.”

“Yes. This will give you independent motion.”

“How much power?”

“There is a thirty seven percent linkage to the Crimson Horizon.”

“Thirty seven percent?” Sunset Shimmer’s expression darkened. “Barely a third? That’s IT?”

“It transmits condensed magical energy through a transdimensional conduit. Yes, that is all I am able to do at this time. If you were to give me another month- -”

“We don’t have a month,” snapped Sunset Shimmer. “It’s only a matter of time before they figure out what I’m doing. If we lose this chance, the resulting war will take centuries if not millennia. And I don’t think you’ll live that long.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Thirty seven percent is enough. It will work. It has to.”

Sunset Shimmer turned her attention to the outside of the ship. She looked beyond the damage to her body and toward the stars beyond. They were beginning to pass objects made of crystal. They were inching ever closer to their goal.

“Lower the suppression field. She already knows we’re here. Divert as much power as you can to me. We stop at nothing. Everything that stands in our way, slaughter it. This galaxy is devoid of any pure individuals, so we will lose nothing of value. We will not stop until we reach the Imperium.”

“Of course. I will do everything in my power to ensure that you meet your goals, Lady Sunset.”

Starlight returned to the temporary home that she and her friends had been provided. She had the impression that it was late, so she tried to be stealthy. Since walking quietly with hooves was nearly impossible, she instead elected to levitate herself. Doing so created a blue colored corona of light through the otherwise dark hallways, illuminating her path.

Then, at the edge of her visual perception, they illuminated something else. A pair of reflective eyes. Not silver, like Jack’s, or violet, like Zedok’s, but bright green. Starlight slowed her motion and saw Jack step into her light- -but not the Jack she knew.

“Chrysalis,” she said.

“Miss Glimmer,” said the changeling, smiling with Jack’s face. “Have you been enjoying the Imperium?”

“Is that any of your business?”

“Yes, actually. It is. It’s my job to oversee the will of the One True and Eternal Princess.” She stepped closer. “And that is what I intend to do.”

“By making sure I agree to join the Crystal Empire?”

“Ideally, yes. But also by warning you.” Her expression became more serious. “You were with the High Exemplar. I can smell it. I’d recommend that you don’t toy with things that don’t belong to you.”

“Sunburst doesn’t belong to anyone,” snapped Starlight. “And neither do I. We are NOT property.”

“Such binary perceptions of the world. I wonder how long it will take for Cadence to crush that idealism out of you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” said Chrysalis. “Nothing at all.” She turned around, he dress swirling behind her. “Some of your friends are still awake. Lyra is asleep. Or weeping. One of the two. The bird-thing is still doing calibrations on her new arm. The rest are in the dining room.”

Chrysalis held up one of her hands and a powerful green light filled the crystal hallway. She then proceeded to lead Starlight toward the area she had just mentioned, as if she had the intention of going there too.

At this point, Starlight descended and walked along the floor like a normal pony. Her hoofsteps were no louder than Chrysalis’s high-heeled boots.

“The clothes,” she asked, curious. “Are those part of your body too?”

“Yes. Of course.”

Starlight shivered. It was a logical conclusion but a weird thought. “You know, I can’t help but wonder what exactly you look like. Without the veneer.”

Chrysalis did not answer at first, nor did she smile. If anything, she seemed lost in thought, and Starlight was almost ready to give up on the conversation when she finally answered. “I was once beautiful enough to seduce the Royal Consort and sire several children with him. I can’t help but wonder if I was once more resplendent than the Goddess herself…”

Before Starlight could ask what that meant, she caught a glimpse of the light coming through the open dining room door. When she neared it, she looked in to see her friends. Darien was sitting at the large table and putting severe strain on a chair as he was trying to use a ridiculously small pony-sized fork to eat an equally tiny pony-sized cupcake. Zedok was perched on his shoulder, leaning back with her arm around his head. She seemed barely able to contain her laughter at Darien’s slow, deliberate movements.

Across from them sat Armchair, apparently doing his best to sit as though he was not quadrupedal. He seemed to be watching as well, but without a face, it was difficult to tell if he found the situation humorous or boring. Jack was roughly behind him, shirtless and sitting in a chair separate from the table with a bottle set on the floor beside her.

“Starlight!” cried Zedok, waving with one hand while holding onto one of Darien’s horns with the other. The sudden jerking of his head gave him pause as he tried to raise the tiniest possible scoop of cupcake frosting to his trilobal mouth. “So, what’s this I hear about you staying out late with a handsome stallion?”

Starlight blushed heavily and glared at Chrysalis. Chryaslis just smiled and shrugged before walking off to a corner of the room where she could be as near to Jack as possible while maintaining as great a distance as possible from Armchair.

“He’s a fillyhood friend,” explained Starlight. “We were catching up. That’s all.”

“Then what are you doing back here?” said Zedok. “Come on, Starlight. You should be at his house right now. If you know what I mean.”

Starlight blushed harder, and Jack tried to intervene. “Starlight isn’t that kind of girl. I’d know. Mostly because I end up taking the good-looking ones for myself.”

“You only leave the uglies for Star? Harsh.” Zedok turned back to Starlight. “But come on, Star. I know for a fact there’s no ponies back home.”

“Yes there are,” said Armchair. “On earth.”

“Eew. Don’t be disgusting.”

“Sorry.”

“I mean real ponies. The kind you can get to squeal like little piggies. When was the last time even got some, Star?”

The room fell silent. Even Darien looked at Starlight, at which point Armchair stole his cupcake.

Zedok gasped. “You didn’t, did you?”

“I’ve only been awake for five years,” protested Starlight. “That isn’t enough time- -”

“Horse crap. It didn’t take me that long.”

The room once again fell silent, and Zedok realized that she had said something she definitely should not have. Darien blushed- -if yahg blushing was even possible- -and Starlight shuddered violently.

“She is asari,” said Armchair.

“Hey! That’s racist!”

“And statistically true.”

“Yeah, probably,” said Zedok, shrugging. “It’s why I don’t like other asari much. They always get really handsy. But you’re one to talk. You’re the only other virgin in the room beside poor Star.”

“We are geth,” said Armchair. “Our existence is an endless orgy.”

Now it was Zedok’s turn to shudder. “I didn’t want to think about that. I never had cause to think about that. Now I can’t unthank it…”

“Sexy sexy fun geth times.”

“And we all know Jack isn’t.”

“Nope,” said Jack, darkly. “Gang-raped by pirates when I tried to ask them for help.”

Again, the room fell silent. “Shit,” said Zedok. “Jack, I’m sorry.”

“It was forty years ago,” said Jack. “It’s the past.”

“Is it?” said Chrysalis from her dark corner of the room.

Jack stood up, and Armchair immediately hid under the table. Like him, Starlight saw what was coming. Before the fight could break out, though, she felt something strange growing warm around her neck. Starlight looked down to see that the computational crystal that she had converted into a kind of necklace was reacting.

The others seemed to notice this as well. Starlight quickly removed the crystal with her magic and constructed a reader shell around it. She realized that it was receiving a transmission, and opened it. The crystal was not at the time directly linked to her brain, so it instead projected a hologram.

“Sunburst,” said Starlight.

“Sunburst?” said Zedok, jumping down from Darien’s shoulder. She looked at the hologram. “Damn, Starlight. How did you not hit that?”

“I am able to hear you, you know,” said Sunburst.

“Oh, I know.”

“Sunburst, what is it?”

“There is a problem,” said Sunburst, quickly. “You need to get off the Imperium. NOW.”

“High Exemplar,” said Chrysalis, standing up. “What are you talking about?”

“Viceroy,” said Sunburst. “An unidentified Equestrian vessel has entered galactic space. It has bypassed our defenses, and is on a collision course with the Imperium. We need to- -”

The room suddenly darkened as a second, much larger hologram appeared. Cadence was suddenly projected into the room, sitting atop her throne. Starlight had not seen the actual seat up close before, but now saw the morbid decorations that were carved into its sides. “High Exemplar Sunburst,” she said. “This is very…uncharacteristic.”

“Princess!” Sunburst immediately saluted, and Chrysalis bowed deeply.

Cadence seemed to accept this, and turned to Starlight. “What he says is correct. The vessel you have come to warn me about has, indeed, penetrated my galaxy. And for this grievous violation, it will be destroyed. There is nothing for either of you to concern yourselves with.”

“With all due respect, your Divinity,” said Sunburst. “The situation is not under control. It’s speed is greater than anything we’ve ever encountered. Your defense fleet can barely keep up, and even when they do, they have not even managed to slow it.”

“Are you doubting my power, Sunburst?”

“I am doing my due diligence to protect you, and the Empire I so dearly love. Please, my Princess. Let me scramble the Defense Fleet. We must stop it before it reaches the Imperium.”

“No ship has every breached my inner defenses, Sunburst. You know that.”

“And how many worlds will be collateral damage if it approaches the inner system?”

Cadence paused, and then nodded. “Fine. Take your pilots. And my daughter.”

“Princess, Flurry Heart isn’t- -”

“Ready? She is. And if she is ever to rule in my stead, she needs to understand what it feels like to spill the blood of heretics.”

“Yes, Princess.”

“I’m going too,” said Starlight, stepping forward.

“What?” said Jack and Chrysalis simultaneously.

“I’m not going to let them do this alone,” said Starlight, explaining her sudden decision to them. “I’m more powerful than either of them. I can help.”

“I cannot ask you to do that, Starlight Glimmer,” said Cadence. “As much as I would be intrigued by your participation, you have not yet sworn yourself to my service.”

“And this doesn’t mean I have. I’m not serving you, Cadence. I only want to help my friends.”

“Starlight Glimmer!” hissed Chrysalis. “Address the Princess with the respect she deserves!”

Cadence raised one of her gold-clad hooves, silencing the changeling. “I accept your offer, even though I sincerely doubt it will be necessary. Go, if you wish, or stay, if you wish. I grant you permission to teleport at will and to use my mass-relay network.” She turned to Sunburst. “Ensure that both her and my daughter return to me safe and victorious.”

“Of course, Princess.”

With that, both Sunburst and Cadence’s holograms closed and the crystal lamps of the room reignited.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” said Zedok.

“I can’t believe you’re surprised she did,” said Jack in response. She turned to Starlight. “So, Star. What’s your plan?”

“We hit it hard and fast,” said Starlight. “We break through the shields and board it. Take it down like we did the Harmony.”

“Are you sure that will work?” asked Zedok. “We didn’t actually win on the Harmony, though. We just stole their Commander. And that was only because Lyra knew who to look for.”

“Then we go for the Core,” said Starlight, thinking on her feet. “Sunburst said it’s Equestrian, right? That means it has one of us right in the middle. We pull her out, the whole thing shuts down.”

“You actually fought the Harmony?” said Chrysalis. “And you lived?”

“We won,” corrected Starlight. “And we will again.”

“Starlight, I can’t find Lyra!” called Zedok from the top of the crystal staircase. She leapt down, cushioning her fall with a burst of biotic energy. She was dressed in her mother’s black commando armor, and an exceedingly large shotgun was strapped to her back.

“Then we leave her behind,” said Starlight. “She can stay with Darien.”

“What the hell is that thing?” asked Beri, flexing one of her arms as though it ached and looking at the firearm on Zedok’s back.

“Oh, this? Its name is almost entirely consonants. The yahg use it for hunting birds.”

“Those must be impressive birds,” said Jack. She, too, was dressed in armor with an old Spectre pistol strapped to her waist. “I thought you used a spikethrower, Zed.”

“I used to. But then it kind of blew up and took my face and arms with it.”

“I know. I was there.”

“Oh. I forgot.”

“So do we have a plan?” asked Beri. “You know, briefing, schematics, something? Anything at all? Or are we going to do this unprofessionally?”

“We charge in, break their shields,” said Starlight. “Until we get there, you three are just passengers. Armchair gives processing assistance.” She patted the geth on the head. “All four of you go in. Jack clears the way, and Armchair tracks the Core. Simple.”

“Simple- -do you have any idea how hard what you actually said is? Do you even know what’s going to be in there? And not to mention my reservations about Jack- -”

Zedok slapped Beri on the back, nearly knocking her over. “Such a turian. After we get back, I’ll prep you for surgery.”

“Surgery? Why?”

“To get the stick out. Clearly.”

“Is that funny?” asked Armchair. “Oh. Yes. It is. Ha. Ha.”

Jack ignored Armchair. “You ready, Star?”

“Are you?”

“Light it up.”

Starlight charged her horn and initiated the tech and biotic sequence necessary for her to construct her ship while simultaneously teleporting her crew into the upper atmosphere of the Imperium. Their gravity response was not exactly smooth, and they materialized moments before the ship formed around them.

“Damn,” said Beri. “That is not within approval specifications!”

Starlight ignored her. She was now floating in the center of her ship, linked by her spin to the tech that formed much of the internal energy processing matrix. Armchair sat next to her, and Starlight watched as he linked the primary ports of his neural matrix to Starlight’s auxiliary system. She felt him arrive on the other side of her tech, communicating with it to accelerate its function vastly. Across the technological gap, she heard him. There was the familiar arguing of the numerous geth within him, as usual, but Starlight realized that there were many, many more voices than there had been the last time- -and that they were not alone. Something was singing in there, linking the voices in harmony. Starlight assumed that the song was whatever remained of Arachne.

On Starlight’s right stood Jack. She had become so accustomed to being teleported that she hardly seemed to notice. With her present, Starlight shifted the transparency of the frontal pane of the ship.

“Actual windows, Star? Fancy.”

“I don’t think we need a whole ship at this point,” said Starlight. “I’m using one of my smaller models. I designed it for this kind of application, but I haven’t had a chance to test it.”

“What?” said Armchair.

“Untested starship made entirely of tech and biotic energy,” summarized Jack. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

Starlight removed the crystal computer from her person and constructed a reading system. This time, it was a complete version. The interface went far more smoothly than before, and Starlight felt her mind linked to the communication array.

“Sunburst?” she said. She did not need to speak out loud, but she was still not accustomed to communicating via mental interface. “Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” said Sunburst. “We are already in position in the path of the unknown vessel. I am transmitting the coordinates and mass-relay network parameters- -”

“Don’t bother,” said Starlight. “I’ve already locked onto your biotic signature. Inbound in- -” Starlight engaged a teleportation cascade, and the universe collapsed around her only to reopen in a different part of space. “- -right about now.”

Starlight’s sensory array immediately assembled an image of the area surrounding her. Nearest to her was a large formation of crystal starships. Most of them looked like the ones she had seen previously; that is, spiny crystalline balls. Several, however, held slightly different shapes. The two most noticeable were near the front: one in midnight blue with an orange corona, and the other a more ordered structure of white crystal. Starlight could sense Sunburst and Flurry Heart in those two, and was aware that there were also ponies in some of the other vessels, each serving as a nexus for a fleet of drones at variable size.

On a larger scale, they were in close orbit to a large star. The system that they had arrived in had a large, crystal-encased mass relay and several planets with variable populations. The largest of them had a population of what appeared to be several hundred million, and the others were between moderate and sparse in population density, likely colony worlds.

“Starlight,” said Flurry Heart. “What are you doing here?”

“She is assisting with the defense ,” explained Sunburst.

“But she’s a civillian…” Flurry Heart paused. “That ship…Starlight, you’re- -”

“Projecting it,” said Starlight. “Yeah. Not a single solid component beside the Core.”

“You can- -but how- -if you- -”

“Flurry Heart, focus,” said Sunburst. “This may very well be your first experience with real combat, and I do NOT want it to be your last.”

“Right, right,” said Flurry Heart. Her voice became more even. “I will take point. Green and Silver groups will handle covering myself and the High Exemplar. Black and Orange will flank and cover Starlight. Advance with broad formation until the enemy becomes visible.”

“Roger, Archgeneral,” said a number of other ponies simultaneously.

“Maintain position until the enemy vessel is in visual proximity,” said Sunburst. “We are positioned directly in its path. If the Princess Cadence fails to stop it, we must not allow it to reach the Imperium.”

Starlight was about to issue her own ‘roger’ when her long-range sensors suddenly picked up something moving toward the system. Her sensors, it seemed, were better than those belonging to the various pilots, because they did not react.

Instinctively, Starlight focused her sensors on the approaching mass, and as she did, she froze.

“Star?” said Jack, immediately realizing that something was wrong.

Starlight did not respond to her. She was not sure how she could, if there was even a way to explain what she was seeing. It was a ship, but only in the most marginal sense. Its architectural structure had no logical bearing, as if it were some kind of organic mass that had been built up over itself until it had reached the size of a small asteroid. The Harmony had been massive, with a width span measured in kilometers- -but this dwarfed it.

What made it truly terrifying, though, was how it FELT. Starlight could feel the energy of the Core almost hemorrhaging out, even at range. The ship was moving at an impossible speed, she realized, because it had a nearly limitless source of power. The power itself, though, was strange and convoluted. It felt like death.

The massive starship was not alone. Surrounding it was a fleet of hundreds of smaller ships which were themselves engaged with unmanned crystal vessels that were swarming around like bees. The smaller vessels appeared to be allied with the larger one, but they felt completely different. The black-silver ships felt strangely cold and empty, as though there were nothing substantial within them. Starlight Realized that they had no Cores, or any source of magic- -or even mass drives. They just seemed to move.

“Holy shit,” said Jack. She could not even see the ship- -there was no way she could. “Do you feel that?”

“Enemy in visible range!” cried Flurry Heart, her even tone breaking with her excitement. “ENGAGE!”

“No, wait- -”

It was too late. Flurry Heart’s ship jumped to FTL, and her numerous drones followed. The others followed suit. Starlight had no other option; she followed, her speed accelerating as she neared the enemy vessel. As it grew larger in her sensors, the feeling of dread increased.

Up close, she could see why it was not stopping. None of the crystal starships could reach it, not because of the defense of its support fleet but because it was encased in some kind of shield. Starlight had never seen readings quite like it, but she immediately veered off course, circling the shield through the action around her. Several crystals converged on her position as she looked for an opening. Below, Starlight watched as the orange glow that came from the organic-like surface of the vessel shifted, forming incomplete constructs and bursting out, tearing through any crystals it touched and shattering them as if they were nothing.

Flurry Heart immediately began the attack, drawing her own ship back as she sent her sub-fleet forward. Sunburst moved in as well, positioning his ship near hers and firing several powerful bolts to defend her. It was a breathtaking display, but Starlight was forced to focus on the work at hand.

Below, she suddenly became aware of a severe injury on the central ship’s hull. A bluish gash had been cut through the material, exposing the corroding hallways and corridors within.

“There,” said Starlight. “That’s where we need to go. If we could just- -”

Starlight suddenly shifted the ship to the side, knocking Jack and Armchair to the side from the sudden inertial burst. As she did, a projectile beam from one of the smaller octahedral ships shot through the air, splitting and tearing into several of the crystal escort. They detonated form within, and Starlight returned fire. She unloaded several concentrated biotic blasts into the enemy ship. It did not deviate course, but instead shattered.

“Nice shot Starlight!” called Zedok from one of the more outer rooms.

“No,” said Starlight. “Not good, this isn’t good!”

All around her, the other ships had shattered as well. The fragments, instead of becoming inert, flattened and accelerated. They swarmed the crystal ships, and Starlight realized that they were seeking out piloted craft. The vessels cut through the crystals, cleaving their way to the pilot ships and slicing through them. Starlight could hear the screaming as they went out.

Sunburst and Flurry Heart reacted, taking evasive maneuvers backward. Sunburst took a defensive role, something that only worked because his fleet was much larger and operated with much greater dexterity. Flurry Heart, though retreating, ignited a powerful biotic weapon that struck several of the ships directly. Whatever crystal system she used to modulate her alicorn power was more than adequate to shatter whichever ones she hit, but there were too many for her to stop on her own.

“Fall back!” cried Sunburst. “Assume a range-attack formation!”

Starlight pulled back as well, firing her own weapons into the cluster. She found that biotic charges had little to no effect, but using a tech overload appeared to paralyze them at least temporarily. Seizing on the idea that they must be somehow technological, Starlight focused her energy on tech attacks and released a swarm of combat drones to draw their fire.

“Damn it!” she cried. “There’s too many!”

She backed away and realized that she had already crossed most of the system. Just being in the larger ship’s proximity had moved her somehow.

“Starlight!” cried Sunburst. “We have to retreat! I’m sending a signal to evacuate the Imperium- -there’s no way we can stop it- -”

“No!” said Flurry Heart, charging forward again and quadrupling her fire rate. “We can win this! We just have to ignore the little ones and get to the big one!”

Starlight paused, not sure what to do, but before she had even measured her options and come to a conscious decision she felt herself rushing after Flurry Heart on the attack.

Armchair suddenly perked up. “Starlight, detecting aberrant signal.”

“Signal?” said Starlight, trying her best to perform complicated evasive manuvers and to give Flurry Heart fire-support as the pair of them charged into battle once more. “From what?”

“The local mass-relay has activated. Vessels incoming.”

“Finally,” said Starlight. “Reinforcements!”

The mass relay was in visible range, and Starlight saw it charging- -and then saw the burst of light as ship after ship materialized into the space around her.

Except something was wrong. The ships that emerged from the mass relay were not made of crystal at all. In fact, Starlight did not recognize them at all. They were huge and made of dark, silver-black material. Really, they did not look like starships at all. Instead, they more closely resembled enormous mollusks of some kind.

Jack saw them, and her eyes immediately widened with recognition. “HOLY FUCK!” she cried. She almost leapt onto Starlight. “Star, turn back!”

“I can’t leave Flurry Heart, not- -”

“Goddamn it Starlight TURN BACK NOW! THOSE ARE GODDAMN REAPERS!”

She pushed Starlight hard, and Starlight turned her ship just in time to see one of the enormous black ships pass within a hundred meters of them. Starlight watched it pass in awe. She had, of course, never seen a real Reaper- -but she had heard the stories.

On the decks below, Beri looked out the transparent window and at the passing ship- -and found that she could not move. She tried to reach for her gun, but found that she could not move at all, as though every cybernetic joint in her body had frozen solid. She could not even speak.

They had been gone. The war was over. There was no way she could have known, and now she felt fear. Fear deeper than any she had ever experienced.

“Berry!” cried Zedok, shaking her shoulder. “Snap out of it!”

The asari girl seemed distant. Beri collapsed to her knees and wept.

The Reaper fleet progressed forward with no thought of defensive posturing or evasive action. The fleet of subdivided ships that poured out toward them stood no chance. They were ripped to shreds by mass-drivers and particle beams as the Reapers converged on the larger ship.

The first few to reach it impacted the shields and were immediately vaporized. The others did not stop, though, and after four or five had been destroyed the next wave had adapted. They approached the shield and projected their own, countering its effect and penetrating the unoccupied space between the shield and the large ship. Many of those were in turn destroyed by the ship’s defensive, but they were far more durable than the crystal vessels. A small number made it through, and concentrated their fire directly on the luminescent gouge that had already been carved into the ship’s hull.

Inside, a sudden explosion brought Sunset Shimmer to her knees. She cried out in pain and raged against the interlopers. She did not recognize them, nor had she anticipated their arrival. Her attack pattern had been optimized for crystal starships that ran on proper magic, not for aliens like this.

“Xyuka!’ she cried in desperation. “Help me! Do something!”

“I already am,” said Xyuka, calmly. She looked up above her into the battle overhead, and watched as the Reapers descended onto the Crimson Horizon, cutting into it and attacking it directly. Behind them, the Crystal Empire forces seemed to be rallying, bolstered by the unexpected allies.

In the vacuum of space, it was all so beautiful. A silent show of explosions and violence, of machines twisting together in a unparalleled dance. Xyuka spent a long moment watching it before she decided that it was time for her to engage in the show as well.

She disengaged the gravity field that was holding her to the surface of the Crimson Horizon and for just a moment floated. Then the back of her suit shifted, and a set of jets emerged, driving her upward and forward toward the nearest of the Reapers. She struck it with far more force than she had anticipated, but the internal support mechanisms of her armor absorbed most of the impact.

The ship reacted to her presence. The metal around it began to distort and shift as blue energy flowed through it, and several figures formed from the metal, rising up to defend the surface of their ship from attack.

They advanced on Xyuka, but she did not flee. Instead, she just looked up at the nearest one.

“Assuming direct control.”

The blue light of the ship immediately corrupted, driven back by Xyuka’s violet-orange. The figures rose into the void and shattered at Xyuka’s will as the Reaper became hers. She looked down at the metal, and it shifted, obeying her command. She was pulled beneath, and the ship hollowed around her, assembling into a cockpit. A chair formed for her, and she leaned into it. The back of her armor split open, and her wings fluttered as she forced the ship to integrate into her spinal implants. Within seconds, she was in total command.

The Reapers were not prepared for this contingency, and Xyuka’s signal propagated rapidly between them, spreading like a contagion. Her own computer-enhanced mind was far faster than theirs, and she quickly took control of them at an exponential rate. Eventually, something did push back on her- -something surprisingly intelligent that she doubted was or had ever been a machine. By then, though, it was too late. She had already taken more than half the Reaper fleet.

Starlight immediately knew that something was wrong. The innermost of the Reapers had changed. They normally emitted a kind of blue light, but now they glowed brightly with a sickly orange-violet glow. Initially, they had seemed to be helping- -but now they turned on the remaining Reapers as well as the crystal forces.

Then, to make matters worse, something fluctuated from behind the larger ship- -and space distorted. Suddenly, hundreds if not thousands more of the smaller ships emerged from the void, joining the turned Reapers in battle. By this point, the battle had moved in close proximity to the system’s star, and Starlight saw their dark slicing through space toward her.

They raced forward, ignoring the crystals that were attacking them. At first, Starlight did not understand why they had passed her- -but then she knew.

“The planets!” cried one of the crystal pilots. “Oh Dear Cadence, they’re going for the planets!”

“Abort the attack!” demanded Sunburst. “All units, fall back to defend the inhabited worlds!”

“No!” cried Flurry Heart. “We can still do this!”

“Flurry Heart, turn back!” cried Sunburst. “That’s a DIRECT ORDER!”

“I’m going in!” she cried back, defiantly.

Overhead, Starlight watched as Flurry Heart sacrificed what was left of her fleet of unmanned vessels to clear her a path toward the damaged shields of the largest ship. As she charged forward, though, a Reaper exploded near her ship, knocking it off course. She tried to compensate, but the blast had knocked out one of the crucial stabilizers on her vessel. She spiraled away, and Starlight heard the distorted sound of her screaming as her ship became trapped in the nearby star’s gravity.

“Flurry Heart!” cried Sunburst, charging forward after her.

Starlight watched as Flurry Heart’s ship disappeared into the outer layer of the star. Sunburst did not stop or slow, and for the first time Starlight took detailed readings of his ship.

“Sunburst, stop!” she cried. “You’re not equipped for that! You won’t survive in there!”

“I have to try!” he said before dipping into edge of the star’s coronaphere and out of sight.

“Sunburst! SUNBURST!”

Starlight was panicked now, and made a split-second decision. “Armchair,” she said. “How much memory do you have?”

“We have approximately- -”

“Good enough!” Starlight immediately rammed several billion lines of tech code into his mind, giving him instructions on how to maintain the tech portion of her ship. Then she separated herself from her vessel, rushing forward toward the star.

“Starlight!” cried Jack, watching her go as the ship contracted greatly around Armchair. She turned to the geth. “Armchair! Go after her!”

“We…can’t…” said Armchair, his voice slowed by the sheer amount of processing he was suddenly doing. “Left with…structural….elements. No…power…source…”

“Goddamn it!” Jack slammed one of her fists against one of the tech-material walls and found that it was substantially less solid than the ones Starlight made. She watched as Starlight shot forward toward the star. “Goddamn it…”

Outside, Starlight condensed her structure around herself into the tightest possible configuration. She darkened the area over her eyes and dove into the surface of the star. The conditions changed drastically as she approached. Starlight was no stranger to travelling close to stars; she had hid in them enough times to understand the strain of the heat and the intense gravity. The sheer size and depth of them, though, had always terrified her- -the fact that if she lost power, she could be sucked so deep into something so deadly without even a moment of pause.

The solar plasma immediately surrounded her body, but the superdense tech and biotic energy absorbed most of the heat. It was still oppressive, though, and she knew that any second it could burn through. She was terrified, but still plunged deeper.

The electromagnetic interference from the star was severe, and Starlight’s sensors would not function beyond seeing occasional ghosty images. She had calculated Sunburst’s trajectory, and knew where he should be- -but without her sensors, she was flying blind.

The crystal computer was still marginally functional, and if it was to be believed, Sunburst was rapidly sinking in the star. His ship was not meant to withstand solar gravity. Neither had Flurry Heart’s. Even alone, either of them would have had extreme difficulty escaping- -but Starlight knew that there was no way Sunburst would eve release Flurry Heart, even if her damaged ship was dragging him to his grave.

There was not much time. Starlight could feel herself beginning to sweat and the sharp pain as her flesh was beginning to burn. Sunburst and Flurry Heart had even less time, she knew, but she could not find them.

Which meant there was only one option. Starlight did not even hesitate, even though she knew the significance of what she needed to do and the consequences it would have. She shifted the opacity of her projected visor, causing it to become transparent instead of opaque. Before her eyes were burned away, she caught the most momentary glimpse of blue and white crystal. Now that she knew where they were, she could reached out to them. She did, and ignited a teleportation field.

On the Imperium, a klaxon sounded. Every pony suddenly stopped what they were doing, confusion crossing their faces, as though they could not understand how such an alarm could possibly be occurring.

Lyra stopped walking. Finding herself unable to sleep, she had gone outside for air, to wander and think- -but in the instant that the urgent tone of that alarm began to sweep through the city, she knew that something was wrong. That alarm, she knew, was never meant to sound on the Imperium.

In a different part of the city, Darien looked up, surprised by the sound around him. In his own culture, there were no need for such alarms. There were no airstrikes or attacks that could come swiftly- -but by the sound alone he instantly understood what it meant. He did not know why he had looked to the sky, but in the distance, his eight eyes managed to focus on something small and bright. Something that had not been there before. His instincts told him that it was a bad thing- -and his logical mind told him that Zedok had failed to stop the oncoming warbringer. Darien desperately hoped that she was safe, but knew that he had other more immediate concerns.

Several ponies were exiting their house, and their confusion at the klaxon only grew when they saw a yahg standing outside their house. They smiled, though, glad to see a friendly face.

“What’s going on?” asked one of the children of the family, poking her head past her crystalline father.

“Invasion,” said Darien somberly. He looked the adult ponies in the eyes. “Shelter. Is there a shelter? The surface, it is not safe.”

“A shelter?” said the male. “Y- -yes.” His expression hardened and he turned to his crystal wife. “Honey, I have to go. Take the children to the deep vaults.”

She looked like she was about to break into tears, but nodded to her husband and hugged him. She took the children, who were confused by the events, and her husband left in the opposite direction.

“Where is daddy going?” asked one of the children as she was ushered down the street.

“He is going to work,” she said.

Darien followed them, and soon the streets were filled with ponies evacuating the surface. Strangely, they almost always move in two directions: a wave of mares and stallion traveling the opposite way of older ponies and children and away from safety.

After several minutes, a fast-moving and orderly herd had been gathered. Darien himself followed and had quickly become covered in children, carrying those who were too young or too tired to keep up. He did not know where their parents had gone, but he knew that they were not safe on the surface. The object in the sky was now much more visible, and it was still growing closer.

Ahead, there was a platform filled with ponies. Darien reached it and passed the children to the ponies standing on it.

“Get on,” said one of them. “If you’re not part of the emergency defense contingent, you need to get underground!”

“No,” said Darien. “There are more coming.”

“We have to go, now,” said one of the crystal guards. “The next platform is in sector X7. Do you think you can make it there?”

Darien nodded, and the crystal guard saluted him. The guard activated the platform and it dropped, quickly descending down a diagonal channel into the ground to the undercity below. The children that Darien had helped waved as a massive blast door closed, sealing them in safety.

They were safe, and Darien returned to the city. The surface was not especially populous, and it had evacuated quickly. It was now eerily empty, with every pony having left their beds and tables to descend.

It was not totally empty, though. Turning a corner, Darien came to face a crystal pony accompanied by a filly and a pair of colts. Their father and one of the colts were made of crystal, but the other two were eggshell colored with bicolored pink and blue manes.

The adult was out of breath, and Darien realized that his legs were supported by a wheeled device. He was apparently partially paralyzed.

“The evacuation platform!” he said.

“It has already left,” said Darien. “Do you know where the next one is?”

“There won’t be any, not now…but there is a walking channel six blocks over. If it’s closed though- -”

“If it is closed, I open it,” said Darien. “Come. We must go.”

“Daddy,” said the filly, who looked terrified. “What’s happening?”

The stallion smiled. “It’s just a drill, honey,” he said. “For safety. But we need to do it right. Remember, Cadence is watching us. And we don’t want to displease her.”

“But where is mommy?”

“She had work to do.” He looked up at Darien. “Can you help us?”

“Of course.”

They began to move through the empty streets, with the crystal stallion leading the way. Then, suddenly, Darien froze. Something had changed in the air. It smelled like a storm, and like electricity. There was a distant sound like thunder, as through the atmosphere was shaking in rebellion against something unpleasant. Darien looked up in time to see the bolts of light through the air- -and then the ground shook as the artillery strike hit, tearing the city apart as orbital projectiles and dying ships slammed into the ground.

The children screamed and their father grabbed them. Their cries were drowned out by the nearest of the detonations as a fragment of burning starship impacted a nearby tower. Darien took a crouched position and held tightly to the ground, his large size dampening the effects of what felt like an earthquake. Debris rained down on him, and though the crystal stallion defended his young, part of it hit him and he collapsed.

Even with the thunder of distant crashes and strikes still raining down on them, Darien moved quickly to pick up the unconscious pony and his children, only to suddenly realize that the nearest crystal building had been damaged in the impact. It was collapsing.

Darien’s body reached before his mind could, and he reached up. The force of the collapsing building hit him hard, and for a moment he doubted he could hold it. He dropped to one knee, but with a roar he pushed. The crystal wall stopped, but only barely. It was too heavy for him to push off, but he was large and strong enough to keep it from dropping any lower for the time being.

“Children!” he cried, trying desperately not to let the wall drop. “Get out of there!”

“Daddy!” cried one of the colts, shaking his father. “Daddy, wake up!”

The children would not leave their father, and instead huddled around him, crying and afraid. Darien could not bring himself to ask them to leave him- -but at the same time, he knew that there was not much time.

The wall began to slip, and Darien closed his eyes. He could not bear to see what would result from his failure. Instead of falling, though, the wall seemed to get lighter. Darien looked to his side and saw a second, much larger yahg throw her force against the wall, causing it to lift several feet.

What was stranger still, though, was that Darien recognized her.

“Grandmother?” he said in disbelief.

She threw back her head and lifted the wall several more feet. “Go!” she said. “Get them out of there, child!”

Darien nodded and released the wall. It immediately dropped several feet as the other yahg took the full weight. Darien reached beneath the gap, trying to grasp the ponies beneath. As he did, though, the remainder of the building collapsed. The sudden increase in weight caused the slippery crystal wall to slip out of the female yahg’s claw and drop suddenly.

Instinctively and unable to stop himself, Darien jumped back. The wall dropped to the ground- -but once again stopped just before the ponies beneath were crushed. Looking up, Darien saw a narrow metal figure, her body charged with orange light, supporting the collapsing wall with a single hand.

Lyra looked into the dark gap, and her magic illuminated the space. She saw the ponies within, and wondered why fate had chosen this path for her. The fillies and colts looked up at her, terrified.

“This is heavy,” she said. She extended her hand and gestured to them. Part of her magic surrounded Calcite and lifted him, drawing him out. “Come. Unless you want to be squished flat.”

They obeyed her and followed their father as he was levitated out. As soon as they were clear, Lyra allowed the building to collapse.

Darien stared at Lyra, his mouth agape. He had understood that she was strong, and that her skill rivaled that of any yahg- -but this was terrifying. “What…how?” He asked. “How did you- -”

“Questlord technology,” said his grandmother, standing up. Her suddenly shifted, her flesh pulling apart in a surge of green light as its density increased and her yahg features decayed and were quickly replaced. In mere seconds, the long-horned female yahg was replaced with a small human female. “There is nothing quite like it in the universe, is there?”

“You can bet your protoplasmic ass.” Lyra knelt down next to Calcite. He was beginning to stir.

“Lyra?” he said. “Lyra…”

“Can you walk?”

“I’m not sure…”

“Fine.” Lyra picked him up and snapped off the support structure from around his legs. She then put him around her neck like a scarf, holding onto his front hooves with one hand and his rear hooves with the other. “Darien, the foals.”

Darien nodded and scooped up the children. They resisted slightly, but like most ponies they felt relatively comfortable around him.

“Chrysalis,” said Lyra. “We need to get them to the shelter before the next barrage.”

“Right.” Chrysalis shifted again, dropping onto her knees and hands. They shifted and her joints reconfigured, her clothes retracting into dense fur as she became a narrow-framed dog. “Follow me,” she said.

As Chrysallis ran off through the crumbling buildings, Lyra looked up at the sky. More debris was raining down, but in different areas of the Imperium. It was too dispersed to be true carpet bombing; it was not meant to level the cities, but to cause mass panic. It was a distraction technique.

Even more terrifying, though, was the fact that the ship producing it was now visible: an enormous dark form descending through the upper atmosphere, casting a shadow over the entire region. Its shields and guns fired silently miles above as it cut through the ships swarming it. Some of the ships appeared to actually be damaging it- -but it hardly seemed to notice. It had stopped moving and was now hovering over the Imperium.

Lyra could feel the magic seeping from it, a dark and somehow empty field of obsessive rage and pain. She had a bad feeling in the pit of her cybernetic stomach- -a feeling that the battle had already been lost.

Sunset Shimmer walked briskly through the darkened halls of the Imperium. It was the first time in what felt like an eternity that she had truly been able to leave the Crimson Horizon. The last time she had moved under her own power had been before, when she had not yet become a Core. She had been a simple unicorn back then. That was from before she had continued her evolution to its logical conclusion.

The guards had barely been a distraction. Their weak bodies wrapped in inferior crystal technology animated by archaic magic had been not match for her; she had not even slowed as she vaporized them, resisting the scent of their ash as she purged the world of their genetic inferiority. In a way, though, it was a disappointment. In her previous life, fighting them might have at least given her a momentary challenge- -but in this form, she was apparently unstoppable.

Then, just as she could almost taste her goal, five large ponies blocked her path. Sunset Shimmer did not slow, but looked up at them. Their white, chitinous bodies and green-blue eyes made it clear that they were changelings.

“Wizard,” said one of them. “Turn back now. Or die.”

Sunset did not dignify their order with a response. She just kept walking.

“So be it.”

Together, their bodies shifted. The leader of them split apart and expanded, his hyperdense mass enlarging until he was a foaming, three-headed dog. The one standing beside him changed as well, his skin becoming scaled and his legs receding until he became a basilisk. The others changed as well: a manticore, a hydra, a dragon, a windigo.

For the first time, Sunset paused- -and smiled. She stretched out her arms and opened her hands. They burst with orange flames that boiled and dripped from her body, barely contained by the suit that Xyuka had built.

Perhaps she would be able to have some fun.

“Go,” ordered Cadence as she stepped down from her throne onto the cool tile floor below. “For the last time, Shining Armor. This is not your fight.”

“Like hell,” he said. He was dressed in golden armor, the kind that he had once worn as an aristocratic captain in the Equestrian Unicorn Army. Cadence could not help but feel a twinge in her cold, crystalline heart. He certainly did look handsome, and his devotion was beyond charming. “I told you. I won’t leave you. Whatever comes through that door, I will be at your side. Because I love you, Cadence.”

“And I love you too, Shining Armor. More than anything in this universe. You are a strong soldier, but even you must be able to sense what is approaching us.”

“I do,” he said, looking her in the eye. He leaned forward and kissed her. “And I will fight to defend you. Even if I do not survive.”

Before Cadence could chastise him for his stubbornness, there was an explosion from the far side of the room as the crystal doors to the throne room were reduced to hot slag. A bipedal figure entered, her red and yellow hair running down amongst her robes and an expression of hardened conviction on her sunken, blind eyes.

She reached out and tossed several severed changeling heads onto the floor before Cadence. One of them was still alive enough to sprout a set of narrow, insect-like legs and to make a hasty retreat, dragging one of its brothers with it. The human standing over them either did not notice or did not care.

Sunset Shimmer looked up at the goddess Cadence and smiled.

“Cadence,” she said. “Or should I say Sombra?”

Cadence charged her long horn and drenched the interloper in blue flame. Sunset Simply raised her hand and stepped through the blast of magic as it washed harmlessly over her. “The weakest of the three Princesses. Neither male nor female, mortal nor immortal, mare or god, ruling by fear or love.” Sunset stopped and separated her hands, opening herself for one of Cadence’s attacks. “Go ahead. I cannot love or be loved. And I’ve already been to the very depths of Hell itself- -there is nothing left for me to fear. You have no power over me, false-god.”

“Really?” said Cadence, sounding mildly amused. Then she charged her horn with enough force that it even terrified Shining Armor. “Then I will just have to tear you apart molecule by molecule. Do you really think you could challenge a God?”

“Divinity would imply that you have no weakness,” said Sunset calmly. She raised one of her hands, palm up. “And we both know that simply isn’t true.”

She suddenly shifted her hand toward Shining Armor. Every protective seal and shield surrounding his body shattered easily against her will, and he was surrounded in orange energy. He cried out in surprise as he was pulled across the floor and into Sunset Shimmer’s grasp. She held him tightly as he struggled, and with her free hand projected a biotic knife and held it against his neck.

Sunset watched the glimmer of fear in Cadence’s eyes. “Which one of us, then, Sombra, is truly the god?” She opened her mouth and licked Shining Armor’s horn, making sure that his wife was able to watch every second of it.

“Don’t worry about me, Cadence!” shouted Shining Armor. “Kill her!”

“Do it, Cadence,” said Sunset, poking the very tip of the magic knife into Shining Armor’s perfect white skin and watching the blood well up as he squirmed. “He’s just a toy to you. Vaporize us both. Do it.”

Cadence lowered the charge on her horn. “What do you want, mortal?”

Sunset smiled. “The Key of Korviliath. Give it to me.”

“I do not know what you are talking about,” said Cadence, her expression not changing.

Sunset Shimmer plunged the upper three inches of the knife into Shining Armor’s neck. He screamed and bled substantially. She had severed one of his carotid arteries. Upon seeing this, Cadence’s expression changed.

“No! Stop!” she cried, the weakness now fully audible in her voice.

“The key. Give it to me. Or he dies.”

“Don’t give her anything!” squeaked Shining Armor.

“Shining Armor,” said Cadence. “If there was ever a time for you to close that beautiful mouth of yours it would be RIGHT NOW.” She reached up to her head and removed her crown. With her teeth, she tore out the large asymmetrical crystal that sat in the center and tossed it to Sunset Shimmer.

Sunset Shimmer caught it and dropped the bleeding stallion on the ground. She no longer had a need for him.

“Was that so hard?” she said.

“I don’t know what value it will be to you,” said Cadence, picking up Shining Armor in her magic and stabilizing him as she brought him behind her. “There is no way you can get out of here alive now.”

“Not even if I teleport?”

Cadence Smiled. “Even Celestia cannot defy my will in that regard.”

“Do you still think I play fair?”

Sunset’s body suddenly shifted and glowed, surrounded by swirling energy as she dematerialized. Cadence, clearly not able to understand what she was seeing, charged her horn but fired too late. By the time the magic reached where Sunset had been standing, Sunset was back onboard the Crimson Horizon, surrounded by a complex array of pattern buffers and transporter technology that Xyuka had assembled.

Almost as soon as she arrived, Sunset collapsed onto the floor and vomited blood. Her body was failing, and not only because of the harshness of the technological teleport. It had taken everything she had to maintain her composure, even as the Crimson Horizon- -her true body- -had been chipped away by the attacking fleet. So much of her was leaking into space, and her wounds were growing.

“Xyuka,” she whispered, struggling to lift her head from the spreading pool of blood but maintaining a firm grip on the crystal in her right hand. “Xyuka, help me…”

Outside, Xyuka was watching the battle unfold from the relative peace of her Reaper vessel. Through the sensors that were integrated into her mask, she watched as her fleet and her newfound Reapers took part in a vast battle. All of it was displayed in silence, and within the Reaper, she did not even feel the recoil from the mass drivers as she poured projectiles into her enemies.

An alert indicated that Sunset had successfully used the transporter pad to return to the Crimson Horizon. That meant the battle was over- -and just in time. Xyuka had sacrificed a substantial portion of her fleet, but the damage to the Crimson Horizon was far more severe. As she had anticipated, the enemy forces had concentrated their fire onto the pre-existing wound in the side of the ship. Sunset was hemorrhaging plasma and coolant, and her hull and internal structure were both compromised.

Xyuka ran several calculations and determined that with this level of damage, there was no way that the Crimson Horizon could make it out of the Crystal Galaxy intact. It would almost surely be destroyed before reaching the galactic edge.

With this in mind, Xyuka decided that sacrifice was necessary. She retracted a small portion of her fleet and most of her Reapers back into the Crimson Horizon’s shield barrier. Then she combined the majority of the remainder of her fleet and moved it into strategic positions around the shield. At this point, she did not bother to actively defend them, and the crystal vessels that remained only increased their attack. In the distance, she could see the heavy bombers approaching.

Before they could cause any significant damage, though, Xyuka detonated her fleet. The octahedral vessels surrounding the Crimson Horizon were torn apart from inside and the glowing fractal cores within were exposed, twisting and writhing in the unfamiliar space. Their positions converged based on Xyuka’s preplanned geometry, and below, Xyuka felt Sunset Shimmer harness the power she had given her. The dimensional shield increased in power exponentially- -and then suddenly space itself ripped and snapped open. The blast destroyed the approaching crystal vessels and what remained of the Reapers that were not under Xyuka’s control- -and the Crimson Horizon was sucked into the resulting portal as it was pulled to a new, secure destination.

Xyuka watched as so much of her work was destroyed, but took heart in the fact that she was sure that Lady Sunset had succeeded. The Key had been acquired, and they had survived. The first part of the plan was complete.

Chapter 19: Assasination

“And then- -and then- -he just ignored me!”

Rarity paced across the large, extravagant front room of the suite she had been given on the Citadel. She was out of breath, not because of any sort of physical activity, but because she had just spent nearly four minutes without inhaling more than absolutely necessary as she explained her situation to Twilight.

Twilight- -or, rather, the hollow, semi-abstract hard-light hologram version of her, paced across the floor with Rarity despite obviously not paying attention.

“Twilight?” said Rarity. “Are you even listening?”

“Of course not,” said Twilight.

“Excuse me?!”

Twilight looked up, for the first time appearing to devote her energy to observing Rarity. “Oh. Sorry. I mean, yes. I totally am. And coordinating a rather extensive battle at the same time. Do you have to talk about this now? Can’t you contact Fluttershy or something?”

“I tried, but she isn’t returning my calls.”

“Oh,” said Twilight. “Well, it is the annual rut on Tartarus. She’s probably busy impregnating her subjects. Or whatever it is demons do.”

“Twilight, I’m having a crisis here! This is important! I had sex with him, and- -oh, my, it was great. I almost died. Definitely not like a pony. It was prehensile. Twilight, you’ve never- -”

Twilight glared at Rarity. “Oh,” said Rarity. “I’m sorry. I forgot.” As a Core, Twilight was permanently entombed in the center of the Harmony. She was, by definition, an eternal virgin. “But he’ supposed to love me now! But he won’t even pay attention!” Rarity paused, then gasped. “Am…am I not pretty enough? What if I disgust him? What if- -”

“Rarity,” said Twilight. “I’m not the pony you should be talking to. If you can’t get Fluttershy, try Applejack. She has an entire herd of stallions.”

“Yes, all related to her. It’s not the same!”

“Twilight!” said a second voice, one that was slightly slurred. A different hologram came into view, emerging from the ether into the center of the room. This one was a very well rendered Rainbow Dash. She looked almost perfectly realistic, save for a partial transparency- -which made Rarity wonder why Twilight always represented herself incompletely if she was able to actually look like a real pony. “What the hell are you doing? We’re being flanked on the- -” She looked at Rarity, and her otherwise sunken and bleary eyes momentarily lit up. “Oh, hello, slut,” she said.

“And salutations to you too, drunkard.”

Both holograms suddenly distorted slightly.

“What was that?” asked Rarity.

“I just fired the dimensional sheer cannon,” said Twilight. “Darn it…Rarity, I just knocked a moon out of orbit. The core density was off. It’s breaking up…so much for keeping collateral fatalities low. I’m going to need to call you back.”

“We were trying for low?” said Rainbow Dash. “Oops.”

Twilight sighed, and then turned to Rarity. “Rarity. I trust your judgement on this, and I’m not going to question your methods. But it is absolutely critical that you do not fail at this. We consider them primatives, but the aliens have scientific and medical technology that could revolutionize Equestrian society. We NEED them, Rarity.”

“So don’t buck this up,” said Rainbow Dash.

“You’re one to talk,” muttered Rarity.

“What did you just say?”

“Rainbow Dash, get back to work, myself dammit!”

“Fine, fine,” said Rainbow Dash, taking a deep swig from a flask as her hologram disappeared.

“Seriously,” said Twilight. “Don’t fail me, Rarity. We’re so close…”

Her hologram faded and vanished, and Rarity was left standing in the empty room. She blinked for a moment, wondering why they had been so insistent to leave when she had very real, very important problems.

“Well,” she said, climbing into an uncomfortable chair designed for an alien rump. “Fluttershy certainly would have listened better.”

They were right, though. The situation went beyond Rarity’s love life, something that she was only now coming to realize. The had expected to gain a positive relationship with Garrus that would translate into better outcomes for the diplomatic negotiations- -but instead, he had completely disengaged. In addition, for some reason, Falare, who Rarity had originally assessed as a prudent and genial person, had now become recalcitrant to almost every suggestion that Rarity put forward. The negotiations were slipping through her hooves, and she did not know how to stop it.

After several minutes- -or several hours, it was impossible to tell- -Sweetie Belle entered the room. She looked up suddenly, as if seeing Rarity sitting glumly in a chair was something she had not expected.

“Rarity?” she asked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” said Rarity. “Simply divine.”

“Oh. Well. That’s good, I guess. You don’t look fine, though.”

“Are you calling me ugly?!”

Sweetie Belle stepped back. “Um, no?”

Rarity calmed herself. “I’m sorry, Sweetie Belle. I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just…this job is so very difficult sometimes.”

“Well, why don’t you take a break? We can go look at the alien fabric. They have loads of neat fabrics. I know how much you love to do really, really boring things like that.”

Rarity smiled. “You know what?” she slid of the chair. “I think that really would help.” She paused. “Wait a minute…how do you know what fabric the aliens have?”

Sweetie Belle’s face scrunched. “I read it in a coffee-table book.”

“Oh,” said Rarity. “Wait…when did we get a coffee table?”

Before Sweetie Belle could answer, a rapid musical tone filled the air. Someone was at the door. Rarity wondered who would be visiting at this particular hour- -until she realized that she had no idea what hour it actually was. She assumed the day was nearing its close, though.

A breeder quickly fluttered through the air toward the call of the door, and Rarity followed him, curious. She watched down the hallway as the breeder opened the door and greeted the asari standing behind it with all the curtesy and politeness that he was programmed to speak with.

Rarity approached the door, and for a moment, she did not recognize who was standing at the door. After all, the vast majority of aliens within a species had almost no distinguishing characteristics and looked nearly identical. The asari were especially confusing.

When Rarity got closer, though, she recognized the markings on the asari’s face- -and the mysterious wisps of luminescent blue lines that sat just beneath her skin.

“Councilor Falare,” said Rarity. Her surprise was apparent in her voice, but there was just no way to suppress it. Every time she had seen the Councilor, she had been dressed in extensive, drab-colored robes. Now, though, she was wearing a much more elegant white sleeveless dress. Rarity was immediately struck by how beautiful she was- -but at the same time, she felt strangely nervous in her presence.

“Ambassador,” she said. “I came to speak with you.”

“With me? Oh my. Come in. Although…” she looked around Falare and saw that no one was present. “You are…alone.”

“Yes,” sighed Falare. “That is what I came to talk to you about. Can I come in?”

“Of course,” said Rarity. She looked at her breeder, trying to remember his name. It was not uncommon to brand their identification codes onto them, but Rarity had never approved of the asymmetry it gave their otherwise astoundingly white coats. “You,” she eventually settled on. “Would you be a dear and make us some tea?”

“Yes, Lady Rarity,” he said, bowing and then fluttering off toward the kitchen suite.

“You don’t have to do that,” said Falare. “I’ll only take a moment, I think.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” said Rarity. “He wasn’t doing anything anyway.”

Falare’s expression shifted just slightly. It was almost not enough to notice. In fact, Rarity would not have noticed at all, save for the fact that that ever so slight shift made something in her head cry out. Something instinctive and deep- -but something that passed as soon as it came.

“I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” said Falare. “I came to apologize. I misjudged you, and may have failed to calibrate my appearance properly. I fear I may have come across as too threatening.”

“Threatening? Not at all, dearie- -I mean Councilor. I certainly do understand how taxing these negotiations can be, and the need to put on airs is just a part of the position.”

“Indeed.” Falare did not seem to blink, and her eyes never left Rarity. She smiled, though, and Rarity felt slightly at ease. “Which is why I came to talk to you. I find you…intriguing, ambassador.”

“Intriguing? Me?”

“Certainly. I can’t help but feel drawn to you. I think we could be good friends, Rarity. And I was hoping we could get to know each other a little better.”

Rarity smiled. Her fate was turning. She had just been lamenting that she was losing support of the Councilors and failing the negotiations, but now one had literally appeared on her doorstep and was asking to be friends.

“Of course!” she said, perhaps too eagerly. She cleared her throat. “I mean, I would certainly be glad to. I can already tell that you have an eye for fashion.”

Falare smiled. “Thank you. Something I picked up from my older sister. She always knew the exact clothes to wear to make an impression. And speaking of impressions…I know a bar that’s open right now.”

“A bar? Councilor, I don’t- -”

“It’s nothing fancy or fast paced. Very subtle, very quiet. And the views are spectacular.”

“I don’t know,” said Rarity. “With all the work we have to do tomorrow…”

“Oh. Okay,” said Falare, looking disappointed. “I understand. I will see you tomorrow, then.”

She turned to leave, but Rarity stopped her. “Wait,” she said. Then she giggled. “If you’ll excuse my language, well, what the hay! We’re only young and beautiful once, aren’t we?”

Falare smiled, and so did Rarity. Except that Rarity did not know why she suddenly felt so uneasy.

The night actually went well. Perfectly, even. What Falare had described as a bar was actually far more elegant than that, a kind of restaurant built high in a tower on the Citadel with a massive transparent window that looked out over the Citadel’s cityscape. The lights were dim and amber or orange, casting the high-ceilinged room in what felt like a perpetual sunset. Falare and Rarity were seated at a table made of fine wood where they could talk as they watched the ships pass by like ants through the space outside.

The conversation was good as well. Rarity had initially assessed Falare as quiet and subdued, but as it turned out, she was actually a gifted conversationalist. She kept her tone light, spending most of her time listening to Rarity’s stories and interjecting when she could provide insight. It felt almost as though they had been friends for decades, and after several drinks, Rarity found them both loosening up and laughing at each other’s jokes.

All the while, though, something was wrong. Rarity would notice things, things that were not quite right. Like how every other asari in the establishment vacated as soon as they saw Falare, or how despite drinking several very tasty drinks Falare’s green-tinted fluted glass never seemed to need to be replenished. Even the conversation was strange. It was almost too perfect, as if Falare knew exactly what Rarity wanted to hear and exactly when she wanted to hear it. And, more importantly, the way her eyes never deviated from Rarity for long. Always staring, always watching.

Rarity felt strange. She felt happy, good, and secure; intimate, even. Rarity was not nor had she ever been attracted to mares, but she found her eyes occasionally lingering too long on parts of Falare’s body as her mind thought about how beautiful the blue-skinned biped was, and how amazing she would look in various dresses- -the designs of which, in Rarity’s mind’s eye, became as elaborate as they were revealing. At the same time, though, something felt wrong in Rarity’s head. A kind of buzzing, as if she knew something terribly important but had forgotten it. As if, for some reason, she wanted to leave. Not that she ever would, of course. That would be rude. And, with how she was feeling, she doubted that she would be able to even if she had possessed the will to do so.

Eventually, everything was reduced to a blur. Rarity was distantly aware that hours had passed. The lights in the Citadel hallway had become dim to represent night. She was not sure where the time had gone. When she finally returned home, Sweetie Belle was nowhere to be found. Even the breeders had returned to their various closets to roost.

Rarity and Falare could not help but giggle as they snuck through the dark suite back to Rarity’s chambers. Rarity, now being more than slightly drunk, kept nearly falling over. She was lying heavily on Falare to help her along.

“Falare, how are you not drunk?” giggled Rarity as Falare shushed her.

“Practice,” said Falare warmly. “That, and I’m a lot bigger than you. I shouldn’t have let you have so much.”

“Much? Daaaarling, Rainbow Dash has triple that before breakfast, trust me…oop!” she tripped on the edge of the carpet, and Falare caught her.

“You know what?” Falare lifted Rarity and cradled the pony in her arms. “I’ll just carry you.”

With Falare now providing stable locomotion, the pair quickly reached Rarity’s room. Falare flicked on the light to the dim setting with her magic and brought Rarity across the room before finally setting the pony on the bed.”

“I hope I’m not too heavy,” said Rarity.

“Oh, not at all,” said Falare, smiling. “You barely weigh anything at all…”

Falare reached up and ran her hand along Rarity’s face and through her hair. It felt good, and Rarity leaned into it.

“You’re so soft,” said Falare.

“Thank you,” said Rarity. “It takes a great deal of brushing. And a diet high in olive oil.”

Falare hesitated, but Rarity could tell that she wanted to say something.

“What?”

“Rarity, we’re friends, right?”

“Of course, darling.”

“Well…there’s something I want to try.”

Before Rarity could stop her, Falare leaned forward and kissed her. Rarity was surprised at first, but found herself leaning into it, kissing her back. Rarity was, as always, not a lesbian, but she did not resist as Falare climbed into the bed.

She wanted it. Badly. Every fiber in her being wanted to be with that asari- -but something deeper was screaming more loudly than it ever had. The unease in Rarity’s brain suddenly boiled over into abject terror. She pushed away from Falare, only to see the asari staring back, her eyes inky and black.

Falare’s grip tightened, and Rarity found herself unable to resist. Even as her mind was screaming to make Falare stop, she felt herself opening her legs- -but Falare did not even bother with the lower half of her pony body. Instead, the conditions in Rarity’s mind itself began to change. She felt a presence seeping into her mind, connecting to her in exactly the ways she wanted.

Her thoughts were slowly starting to fade. Somewhere separate from the surge of lust and intimacy, part of her was aware that her consciousness was burning. Parts of her were shutting down as her synapses began to decay, and she felt a trickle of blood from her eyes and ears stain her white fur and the bedsheets below.

Then, just before her mind finally gave in, something shifted. Not from Falare, but from herself. The network of her nervous system suddenly burst open, pulling what reserve power it had and charging her horn with all of it.

More magic than Rarity had ever used in her life suddenly poured out of her in a chaotic, undirected explosion. Falare was thrown back, and Rarity was knocked across the room and into the far wall.

The sensation of the impact was distance, and for what felt like an eternity, Rarity sat still, her head lolling as she tried to make sense of the haze that she now saw the world through. Her mind simply would not work, at least not at first. It took several seconds before she could focus her eyes, and nearly a minute before she could comprehend where she was or how she had gotten there.

Rarity tried to stand, but as she did, her muscles convulsed painfully. She looked across the room at Falare, who was sprawled in a similar position leaning against Rarity’s bed.

“What did you do to me?” she demanded.

Falare looked back. Her eyes were no longer black, but instead had returned to their normal color.

“What did I do?” she muttered. “I failed.”

“Failed? I- -I can’t move!”

“Yes. And you should be dead.”

Rarity’s breath caught in her throat. “D…dead?”

Falare nodded. She shifted, slightly, but Rarity could tell that she was just as immobile. “I’m an Ardat-Yakshi. I’m sick. When I attempt to mate, I kill my partner. Always.”

“Mate? You mean…”

“That we were just having sex? We were. Just like you did to Garrus.”

“How did you- -”

“Oh please. How could I not? Except this time, you wouldn’t walk away from it with a stupid smile on your face. They would find you dead. And they would know I did it. Just an uncontrollable urge. The Ardat-Yakshi just couldn’t control herself. They’re all killers anyway.”

“You- -you couldn’t expect to actually keep your position after that?”

“My position?” Falare laughed darkly. “Oh, I’d be executed. Every bit of activism for my people would come undone. I would be considered the greatest asari failure in history.”

“But then WHY?”

“Why?” Falare’s eyes narrowed. She tried to stand, but spasmed and collapsed back to the floor. “How can you sit there and ask me that?”

“I don’t understand!”

“You bitch. You actually don’t know, do you?”

Rarity shook her head.

“Garrus. It’s Garrus. He was supposed to be MINE.”

Rarity gasped. “I didn’t…”

“Yes, you did. You seduced the man I love. The only person who has ever treated me like a real asari. My own people? I’m a monster to them. Even my own mother can’t look at me. My sisters are all dead. I’m alone. Except for him. He was supposed to love ME.”

“I didn’t know!” exclaimed Rarity. “I- -I didn’t realize!”

“Of course you didn’t! You’re an insensitive twit!”

Rarity gasped. “Excuse me? I’ve done NOTHING except what’s expected of me- -”

“Did you even bother ask? If he and I were living together? Because we are! And it’s not just that! You literally gave me a box of CHILD SLAVES. How did you possibly think that wouldn’t be offensive?”

“But- -I was just trying to be generous- -”

“By systematically undermining my life? By ignoring every value we hold dear?”

“At least I didn’t try to kill somepony! You could have SAID SOMETHING! Sweet Celestia…I’m positively mortified. He was functionally married. Buck me…”

“I just tried to. Actually…” Falare sat up. “You’re the second being I’ve ever gotten that far with.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. The last one…well…she didn’t make it. Obviously.”

“Then how did I survive?”

“I don’t know. That biotic surge, I suppose.” Falare shakily gestured toward her own forehead. “That thing, in your head…”

“It’s called a horn.”

“I know what it’s called. Excuse me if I’m addled. Nobody else has an organ like that. You forced my mind out before I finished.”

Rarity found that she was regaining some of her ability to move. “I can’t believe you did that to me.”

“The killing or the sex? Because from the look of it, you were into it.”

“I was. It was good. Not as good as Garrus, of course- -”

Falare raised a finger. “Don’t you dare. I will come over there and do you again. As soon as I re-learn how to walk.”

“Oh please,” said Rarity. “You’re a hypocrite. What, Garrus isn’t allowed to ride the pony but you are? Either way, it makes me feel…dirty.”

“You misunderstand. I’m not trying to win his affection. I was…oh gods, I was trying to establish dominance. I don’t…” She groaned. “It sounds so stupid now. Saying it out loud. It’s just…every time I thought about you, my vision would just go purple- -I wanted you dead.” She leaned back. “But he’s not property. He…I…I was just angry he chose you.”

“Well, to be honest, he took some convincing.”

Falare sat up. “Seriously?”

Rarity nodded. “I may…have blackmailed him. Just a little bit. But please! I’m well regarded as best pony! Who would not want to lie with me?”

“You are very beautiful,” said Falare. “I wasn’t forcing myself to do that with you. I actually do think you are a sexy, sexy pony. I guess Garrus saw the same thing…but still. You’re a horse!”

“And you’re blue. I don’t know what difference it makes. Especially considering you were just intimate with this ‘horse’ too.”

“I know…” Falare trailed off. “I’m sorry,” she said at last. She tried to stand, but fell back down. By this time, Rarity was able to at least partially get to her feet. Having four of them made that easier. “I’m going to give my resignation in the morning. Then I’ll go back to the monastery…”

“Don’t bother,” said Rarity. “I’m willing to overlook this. These things happen.”

Falare’s eyes widened. “On what sane world do things like THIS happen?”

“Oh, darling, you’ve clearly never been a diplomat in Equestria.” Rarity crossed the room and extended a hoof to Falare. “I should be apologizing to you, as well. Granted, you crossed a line by a great deal by trying to murder me. But I…well…it’s just awkward.”

Falare looked at Rarity’s extended hoof. “You’re not afraid of me?”

“Afraid? Terrified. But you’re not a bad person. Neither am I, I don’t think. We just made mistakes. And we certainly had fun, up until the part where you tried to kill me. I really think we could be friends.”

“You do?”

Rarity nodded. “Of course, dearie. Why don’t we just try to take this from the beginning?”

Falare looked up at the pony standing over her, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she took Rarity’s hoof.

Chapter 20: The Wreckage

A formation of crystalline ships passed by, their structures glittering from a combination of the Failure’s forward lamps and their own internal luminescence. Their motion was mechanical and precise, and their coordination was perfect. More perfect than a living pony would ever be able to achieve.

Wintrygust leaned back in the captain’s chair, watching them pass as she waited. Across the bridge, Blossomforth fidgeted in her chair.

“Is something wrong, ensign?”

“No,” said Blossomforth, returning to her work. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“She’s just nervous,” yawned Sassaflash, almost sending the ship into a spin as she rolled over on her controls. Fortunatly, Wintrygust had remembered to lock her out of the helm.

“I don’t know how you’re not,” said Blossomforth. She looked up as another group of crystals paused as if to examine their ship, and Wintrygust watched as Blossomforth inhaled sharply.

“I’m not nervous because I trust Princess Twilight,” explained Wintrygust. “We have been given permission to approach this area. And I do not doubt the Princess.”

“Well, that’s good,” said the resident clingon, who the crew had begun to address as Pinkie. She leaned excessively close to Wintrygust. “Because if she was wrong. Even a little wrong. Even the teensiest, tiniest bit wrong, we’d get blown to the teensiest, tinniest pieces!”

That, Wintrugust did not doubt. She was technically old enough to have seen the latter end of the Crystal War, but despite being property of the navy she was only ever deployed in administrative roles. The Crystal Empire had always been somewhat of an enigma to her- -until she had seen the recent battle unfold before her eyes.

She had maintained some level of unrealistic hope that the Crimson Horizon would still be moving in a straight line, largely unguarded and unprotected. That retrieving Scootaloo would simply be a matter of boarding it and finding her. Their luck had not been so good.

There was nothing they could do in the battle except watch. The Failure was a modified freighter, and even if it had weapons, Trixie was nearly depleted. Their tenure in the battle would have been short, violent, and pointless.

Their presence had come to serve a purpose, though. As the crystals departed back toward the Imperium, their glow illuminated the trail of wreckage that the Crimson Horizon had left behind. It had charged forward with what seemed like absolute disregard for its own safety or integrity, and it had payed dearly for it. Pieces of it were strewn across several star systems. Some of them were nearly the size of the Failure, and some were larger, all trailing in a long debris field. It just so happened that the Failure’s primary purpose was trash surveying.

“This is pointless,” said Blossomforth. “How is this possibly going to help?”

“You are terribly impatient, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one who had a pedophilic obsession with our former captain. By your logic, shouldn’t we be hurrying this along? Or at least doing SOMETHING. But I guess that’s just your instinctive response.”

“Alright then,” said Wintrygust. “If you were in command, what would you do, Blossomforth? Because I am clearly only a little breeder, and I don’t have the capacity to think for myself.”

“Oh,” said Pinkie. “Then why did you get to be captain? Can I be captain?”

“Pinkie,” said Wintrygust, calmly. “Why don’t you go attend to the Core? I’m sure she gets terribly lonely. And…” Wintrygust trailed off. What she wanted to say was that somehow, it seemed like Trixie knew that something was wrong. The ship was not moving like it should. The implication of that, though, was that Cores had some capacity to feel even when connected to a starship. Just the idea of it made Wintrygust shiver.

“Okie dokie loki!” said the clingon. She grinned and obeyed Wintrygust’s orders- -at least for now. In all honesty, she terrified Wintrygust. Clingons were known to be dangerous, but usually only in large groups or in areas that had been abandoned for too long. There were stories, tales of how they sometimes became carnivorous- -but Pinkie was at least marginally competent, and Witnrygust needed as many hooves on deck as she could acquire.

As Pinkie was making her way toward the door, a tone filled the cabin. Pinkie stopped, and everypony else froze. Wintrygust tapped on her command projection.

“Dr. Heart?”

“Yeah,” said Heart. Her voice sounded strange, and not just because of the distortion through the ship’s dying systems. It was as though she were on the verge of giggling- -or weeping. “I’ve found something.”

“What?”

“Um...yeah. It’s probably better if you see it.”

“I’ll be right down.” Wintrygust terminated the connection and stood up. “Blossomforth, you will come too.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Because I asked you too. And I’m the acting captain. Pinkie, you have the bridge.”

“The clingon? You can’t be- -”

“On. ME.”

Pinkie saluted. She was wearing a spare uniform, and she looked almost like an earth pony sailor. That only made her more unnerving.

Blossmforth followed, doing as she was told. As the door closed behind them, she immediately voiced her opinion on Wintrygust’s orders.

“You did that to spite me!” she said, trotting to the side of the equally-sized and equally-white Pegasus.

“No, I did not.”

“Road apples, you put the damn clingon in charge over me! Those things aren’t even sentient, you know that, right? They just repeat the same lines over and over and ghhhh- - ” she shuddered. “It’s just so gross looking!”

“The ship is not moving. It is not active. Pinkie and Sassaflash can handle it.”

“I could handle it better! But you’re a vengeful little- -”

Wintrygust stopped and glared at Blossomforth. Blossomforth recoiled. It must have looked strange, seeing nearly exact copies of her own eyes looking back at her- -a sight that Wintrygust had seen countless hundreds upon hundreds of times.

“I chose you because I thought you would be useful.”

“For what? Running an errand?”

“And what, exactly, do you expect that we’re going to find down there? What, exactly, do you think Heart managed to salvage? I’m not trained in combat. I made the mistake of thinking I could be, and I won’t make that mistake again. You are. If something goes wrong, I need somepony I can trust.”

“Why the hell would you trust me?”

Wintrygust stepped into one of the ship’s stairwells and spread her wings. “Because who can you trust more than a sister?”

Before Blossomforth could retort, Wintrygust descended the center channel between the narrow staircases. Blossomforth said something under her breath that echoed through the stairwell, but spread her own wings and followed.

Dr. Heart’s laboratory had expanded vastly to accommodate her current project. Before, it had occupied just one of the smaller storage bays. Now, she had moved a significant amount of equipment to the floor below and taken over one of the Failure’s docking bays.

When Wintrygust entered this bay, she was immediately struck by the smell. It was not the normal chemical smell that seemed to follow Heart around, but something darker and more sour. The far side of the room was dominated by a large, badly damaged piece of black-brown material that seemed to be growing around a cleaner, more technological-looking element that had become pitted and broken underneath the encroaching growth.

This was a fragment of the Crimson Horizon. It had not been easy to find one that still showed any signs of possible computer activity, let alone one that fit on board- -but this one did.

Heart emerged from one of the side-rooms of the bay. Her hair was somewhat unkempt, and her apron was covered in dark stains that Wintrygust assumed to be oil. As she approached, the sickening smell grew more intense.

“There you are,” she said. “Come on. You have to see it.”

“Come on?” Wintrygust was confused. She pointed at the piece of the Crimson Horizon. “But it’s over there…”

Heart looked up. “That?” she snorted. “I’m a biologist. I wouldn’t know what to do with that piece of junk unless, well, I was also me. Oh wait, I am. Needless to say, it is dead. I killed it.”

“You what? Dr. Heart, we need the information- -”

“I didn’t say I didn’t get information,” snapped Heart, her demeanor suddenly changing to threatening. Then she giggled. “You really, really need to see it.” She smiled for a moment, and then started to return to the room she had come from. Wintrygust and Blossomforth looked at each other, and then hesitantly followed her into the darkened room.

The smaller room had been outfitted with a large portion of Heart’s surgical equipment, including a large autopsy table. When Wintrygust’s eyes finally adjusted and she saw what was on the table, she cried out in surprise.

“Startling, I know,” whispered Heart. What she had been working on was not a computer or remnant of memory equipment; rather, it was the partially disassembled body of one of the things that now inhabited the Crimson Horizon.

“Heart!” cried Wintrygust. “Why didn’t you inform me- -this, it can’t be here!”

“It has to be here. You said you wanted the information, didn’t you?” Heart pointed at the wreckage in the other room. “Because that doesn’t look like the Core to me. I’m no expert, but, I AM and expert. The Crimson Horizon wasn’t built to use frame recording, and I don’t think it switched to it since whatever that is grew up through it.”

“Then how can we find any records?” asked Blossomforth.

“Short of pulling the Core’s brain, you can’t. Or interrogating the crew.” She turned to the abomination lying on the table. Wintrygust had not realized how close it actually looked like a pony, albeit one with mostly hairless, taught skin and an elongated body. This one had been partially peeled, revealing the circuitry and components inside it that its organic portions were stitched to. Its head, though, was by far the most grotesque part. Its blank, dead-eyed expression and gaping mouth were just too pony like. It also appeared that parts of its skull had been removed and the internal parts of its brain and spinal implants linked to Dr. Heart’s equipment.

“What are you going to do?”

“Tell me, breeder. Is it dead?”

Wintrygust looked up at Heart, who was breathing heavily with excitement. “I defer to you on this, Heart. Also, I have a name.”

“Of course you do. I have several. But the answer is, no. No! It’s still alive!”

“It isn’t breathing,” said Blossomforth, poking hesitantly at one of its blade-like limbs.

“That’s because it doesn’t have to! The entire inner structure is built like a life support system! Every organ is self-contained! If this were a pony, it would have died with these injuries, but it didn’t. It’s broken, but the brain- -the BRAIN is still viable.”

“Heart,” said Wintrygust. “You were there. We saw these things. They can’t talk.”

“That’s the thing!” Heart moved toward its head. “The implants are…crude? Ingenious? Both. The brain is much, much more advanced than it needs to be. Much of it was blocked off, at least partially. It’s part of how we force Cores into permanent unconsciousness. Asleep, but with complete cognitive capacity.”

“And you removed it.”

“More than that. This support system- -I intend to wake it up.”

Wintrygust paused. “Do it.”

Blossomforth’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“I trust your judgement, Heart. If you think this creature will be able to communicate, if there is even a chance we can find Scootaloo, do it.”

“I don’t think- -”

Heart did not wait for Blossomforth to finish. Her horn glowed, and several of the machines activated, forcing fluid into the open skull cavity of the creature.

Its eyes flickered, and it suddenly gasped. Its torso shot up, but it appeared unable to move its legs. It looked around, seemingly confused, and its silvery eyes widened.

“I don’t- -it hurts. It hurts so much!” it cried in a distorted but all-too-pony-like voice.

“It can talk,” said Blossomforth, who looked like she was about to faint at the sight of the partially functional corpse drooling and looking around the room. Wintrygust, however, did not feel fear- -she was too focused on the look of terror on the creature’s face.
“Of course it can. The brain is pony.”
“Pony?” said Wintrygust, even though she already knew.

“I don’t- -I don’t know where I am!” it cried, its voice quaking.

“You are on an Equestrian ship,” explained Wintrygust.

“Ship? I don’t- -where’s my daddy? Who are you? Why are you- -” It tilted its head back and screamed. It was a horrible sound of pure agony, and it shifted partway through. It collapsed, breathing hard, and looked up at Wintrygust and spoke with a female voice. “Please…please help me. The sirens, we need to get to the shelters. My baby, where….where…” It shifted again. “So much…so much pain…”

“Heart?” demanded Wintrygust. She was shaking now, but Heart was grinning madly.

“I can’t believe it. Sweet Celestia…I was right.”

“HEART?”

“It’s not just one brain,” said Heart, giggling. “It’s not just one pony! It’s several. Sewn together.”

“Oh sweet Luna,” said Blossomforth, stepping back.

“What?”

“I know! It’s brilliant! This- -this is the most amazing creature I have ever witnessed!”

“You sick bastard,” said Blossomforth, who promptly vomited. Heart did not even seem to notice; the vomit just mixed with the black fluid that caked the floor- -the same black fluid that was oozing from the creature’s wounds.

“Why would somepony do this?” asked Wintrygust.

“Why don’t we ask?” Heart leaned forward to the creature, who was now looking around the room wildly. “Who did this to you, dearie? Who is your creator?”

“Sunset Shimmer,” it said in several voices simultaneously. “We exist- -we- -drawn from void, create, serve the one who creates- -we are her, and she is- -so much, so much pain! We serve the Her!”

“Sunset Shimmer? The Core?”

“Seems logical,” said Heart. She caressed the body of the creature. “But I didn’t know little Sunset was capable of such quality work…”

“She doesn’t- -oh Celestia- -if she knew!” screamed the creature. “If- -I can’t, I shouldn’t see but I CAN’T STOP! IF ONLY SHE KNEW!”

“Shhh, shhh,” said Wintrygust, grabbing onto the creature’s head. It was deathly cold, and the skin felt waxy and dead. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Daddy? Is that you? I can’t- -I can’t find mommy…the noise…why do the things in the dark I not see them? Why when do they look back at me? Make them stop! Make them…make me stop…”

“What is happening to it?”

“The thing I told you about? Yeah, it was basically a regulator. Without it, the brain is burning itself out. I suggest you hurry.”

Wintrygust swallowed and nodded. She turned to the creature. “I need your help,” she said. “Please. The mare I love is missing. Scootaloo. Please. Please help me find her.”

The silver eyes of the creature locked onto Wintrygust’s, and something moved behind its pupils. It nodded. “Sunset Shimmer…she doesn’t know…ponies came. You…we saw you…”

“That’s right,” said Wintrygust.

“She…orange…ORANGE…” the creature gasped and suddenly lurched forward, grabbing Wintrygust with one of its scythe-like forelegs. “Xyuka…find Xyuka. Xyuka knows. She…oh Celestia…what she…no…please MAKE IT STOP!”

It started weeping and released Wintrygust. The equipment connected to it made a sound, and Heart opened an interface panel. “He gave us a tracking signal,” said Heart, confused. “I have no idea what it’s for, but I’ll be damned if it’s not unique.”

“Can we trace it?” said Wintrygust.

“Can I trace it- -of course I can trace it.”

“Please,” gasped the creature, looking up at Wintrygust. “Please…I don’t want to know anymore. So many…so many will die…if she…if she…” It rolled its head to the other side. “So much pain. It hurts…so much. So afraid…we were just ponies. Just ponies. She took our world…” It convulsed. “I can’t…I can’t. Please. PLEASE. I want to…die. Kill us…help us. Kill us. Wan…die…”

Wintrygust looked up at Heart. Heart shrugged. “We have everything we can get out of it. I suppose we can euthanize it now.” She picked up her hunting rifle from the corner and chambered one of the enormous square bullets. Instead of pointing it toward the creature, though, she levitated it to Wintrygust.

“What…what are you doing?” said Wintrygust.

“The euthanasia,” said Heart. Her smile became much more broad. “I want to see you do it.”

Wintrygust blinked. “I’m not qualified for that,” she said.

“It has a brain.” Heart pointed. “Shoot it in the head. Here.” He unfolded part of the gun to produce a large paddle on one side. “I’ll even set it to hoof-fire for you. The coil is already charged with my magic. Point. Shoot. Make it die.”

“Why?” said Wintrygust. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m putting a lot on the line here, aren’t I?” laughed Heart. “You want me to trace that code? Bring this rickety ship with a dying Core into yet another hornets nest of these things? I’m willing to serve you, Wintry. I really am. But only if you prove that you are somepony I can put myself behind.”

“Please,” whispered the creature. “Please, mommy. Just…make the pain go away…”

“You don’t have to do it,” said Blossomforth, putting her hoof on Wintrygust’s shoulder. She reached up for the gun. “I’m a soldier. I will do it on your behalf.”

Wintrygust stopped her. “No.” She reached up and took the weapon. As she did, the levitation field stopped and it fell into her hooves. It was surprisingly heavy.

“There you go,” said Heart, stepping back. “I hear that your subspecies had been bred to absolutely never attempt to kill a pony. From what I can tell, you’re about to kill at least six. Can you do it, breeder? Can you- -”

Wintrygust put the square barrel of the gun against the creature’s head and fired. The top of its skull exploded with black fluid and brain material, soaking her white coat in its blood.

It convulsed and smiled. “Thank…you…” Then it fell limp.

Heart and Blossomforth both looked at Wintrygust for a long moment that was only interrupted when Wintrygust passed the rifle back to Heart. Heart took it- -and immediately burst out into manic laughter.

“You, I like you! Congratulations, Captain.” She curtsied like the noble she was, which in an apron covered by blood looked like a sick parody of what such a bow was supposed to mean. “Lady L. Heart III of Heartmoor, at your service. I will have the trace installed within the hour.”

Wintrygust only nodded. She shook some of the stinking black fluid off herself, and then started to walk back to the main room. Blossomforth followed, but Heart remained, continuing to caress the now mostly headless corpse of the creature.

“Why?” said Blossomforth when they were out of earshot of Heart. “Why did you do that?”

“Because it was in pain,” said Wintrygust, her voice cracking. “I just thought…when I am like that...when I am old and in pain, and they come to euthanize me…I would want Scootaloo to be the one to pull the trigger…”

She suddenly collapsed and vomited. She then started weeping. “But it still…it hurts. I’m not like you, Blossomforth! I’m not outbred! I wasn’t…I wasn’t meant to kill…”

Blossomforth just watched as Wintrygust sat in a mixture of vomit, synthetic blood, and tears. Eventually, the crying passed, and Wintrygust stood, shaking. “Go ahead,” she said.

“Go ahead? And do what?”

“Disparage me. Berate me. It’s what you do, isn’t it?”

“I will,” she said. “But not right now. Come on.” She led Wintrygust toward the door. “Let’s hit the showers. I promise I won’t say anything until we’re out.”

Wintrygust nodded and followed her sister out of the cargo bay.

Chapter 21: The Wounded Queen

There was darkness but never silence. Her eyes closed, Sunset Shimmer concentrated, expanding her mind outward. Within her were the countless millions of voices of the Crimson Horizon’s subsystems, all reporting and cross-communicating, all with her mind at their nexus. Her control was absolute, but often illusionary. Reality took on a strange tone when perceived through the lens of artificial perception. If her concentration broke for too long- -or, even, if she thought too much about her role- -it became difficult to discern the speperation between what she could control and what was beyond her.

Now, though, she ignored those voices. Instead, she focused inward. She remained like this for some time- -and then suddenly opened her eyes. Her disembodied organs and bones snapped inward, following their manifold subtle connections and reconnecting themselves back into her body as her magic reknit her human form.

As far as she could tell, nothing was wrong with her. Every organ, every system within her mobile self- -all of them were biologically normal. She should have been healthy, but instead, she was on the verge of death. Despite being physically disconnected from the Crimson Horizon, it appeared that the health of her human self was tied directly to that of the ship.

Sunset considered this fact for a moment, and then stood. Her body ached, but she ignored the pain. She tightly clutched a wide band of silver that surrounded her neck and upper chest- -and contained the Key of Korviliath in its center. That key had nearly cost her everything, and by itself, as with any key, it was useless. For her plan to succeed, she needed the door associated with it. She knew where it lay, and how to activate it- -but her body was so badly damaged, she had been forced to postpone Equestria’s final battle. Much to her chagrin, she needed time to repair.

Leaving the chamber she had been mediating in, Sunset moved through her ship. It was far from silent as it roared with energy- -even though it sounded sick- -and Sunset relished that eternal noise. The sensation of it was strange, but one that she had come to cherish: the feeling of being present inside her own body.

Along the walls, the drones continued to interface with the ship’s systems or march along their paths in formation toward areas in need of repair. They were Sunset’s children; she had sewn together each and every one of them from the remnants of the ponies that had been pulled into the Void with so many years before. She could hear their voices, the mechanical, repetitive thoughts as they coordinated themselves to her will. If she listened especially hard, sometimes she could hear the screaming from deeper within their minds.

Many of them had been lost, in part because of Xyuka’s mistreatment of them. To Sunset Shimmer, they were part of her. Xyuka, however, had far less empathy. She saw them as she saw everything: as just another machine to bend to her will. Sometimes, Sunset could not help but wonder what exactly was running in the mind behind that flat, blank mask she wore.

The path she took was long and winding as she examined herself and the massive damage she had sustained in pursuit of her goal. She was proud of how she had managed to persevere, but seeing the level of destruction that the enemy had wrought on the Crimson Horizon was disturbing and even disheartening.

In time, she found herself entering one of the many vacuous, empty rooms within herself. Xyuka was waiting for her.

“Lady Sunset,” said the armored pony, bowing. “I was hoping you would make an appearance.”

“The repairs,” said Sunset. “How long until I am functional?”

“Not soon, I’m afraid. It could take weeks. Months, even.”

“That is too long! I need to be functional NOW!”

The luminescent circle in the center of Xyuka’s mask twisted and moved to the edge of her mask, looking up at Sunset like a single white eye. “I warned you not to enter the battle with the Voqutan damage to your hull.”

“My hull was fine. The crystals couldn’t penetrate my shields. It was those other ships that caused the problem- -I thought you said the aliens wouldn’t be a threat to me!”

“I miscalculated,” said Xyuka. “Those starships were called Reapers. They are a type of advanced artificial construct. Or at least, they were supposed to be.”

“Supposed to be?”

“I was anticipating them to be comparatively primitive. The Reapers are not truly intelligent. Rather, a slightly evolved harvesting system. Or they were supposed to be. These Reapers…there was something behind them. A motivation. An intelligence. Something not Reaper.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Why? Because I have dealt with them before.”

Sunset did not ask. She did not actually know where Xyuka had come from, or what she even was precisely. She did not have cause to know, or especially care.

“At least we managed to get some gain from them.”

“Gain? What kind of gain?”

“The Reapers provided us with a gift.” Xyuka turned toward the darkness in the room, and several powerful lights flashed on, illuminating the vast floor below. Sunset stared in shock: the room was filled with several hundred ponies, all standing in perfect formation and looking up at her.

“What- -what is this?” she demanded.

Xyuka pointed at several large machines at the edge of the room. They were not the material that Sunset had built her body from, and they were connected to what appeared to be fragments of Xyuka’s own ships. “I found it within them while I was interfaced. They call it ‘indoctrination’. Their design was subtle and primitive. I improved it.” She turned toward the legion of ponies and addressed them. “Salute your eternal lord and master!”

“Hail Sunset!” they shouted in unison, saluting.

“Mind control,” said Sunset, shivering slightly. “You created mind control.”

“I adapted it to our needs. These ponies were ones I managed to take from the planets my fleet approached. We do not have many, but I do not think we need many. I suppose we can use them as soldiers, but I meant it as a demonstration.” Xyuka looked up at Sunset, and, seeing the look of concern on her face, explained further. “You do not need to worry. Your magic is powerful enough to keep you protected from indoctrination.”

“And you?” said Sunset. “You are a Pegasus pony. You don’t have magic.”

“The system operates by producing a resonant pulse in the user’s brain in response to certain thoughts. Subtly retraining them. Or it was supposed to. Now it produces a profound chemical dependency. Of course, it requires having an actual brain to work.”

Sunset raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying that you don’t have a brain?”

“That is exactly what I am implying.” Xyuka tapped her head. “Tesla coils.”

Sunset shivered. Xyuka was competent- -invaluable, even- -but something about her had always been unsettling. “This is good,” she admitted. “This will make pacifying Equestria so much simpler.”

“I thought you would like it,” said Xyuka. “I know you are feeling poorly after the battle. I wanted to cheer you up. Now, though, you need to rest.”

“I need to attack.”

“No,” said Xyuka. “I don’t recommend that.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“My rational is different this time,” said Xyuka, firmly. “You need to repair. But it is not just that.”

“What, then?”

“The Voqutan technology. The more I think about it, the more it concerns me.”

“It does not concern me. A surprise attack will only work once. I will destroy them before they can fire next time instead of relying on you.”

“And if you fail? Or if, perhaps, the humans have more than one ship with that capacity? Or Voqutan shields? You were lucky. If they had struck you, the Core, all would be lost.”

“Are you going to complain, or offer me a solution?”

“I would like permission to investigate this further. You will oversee your own repairs while I take the last remnants of my fleet to seek out the Voqutan.”

“And how do you propose to find them, Xyuka? You have no idea where they are.”

“I know exactly where they are. The Voqutan signal is exceedingly rare in this universe. I can find them. I will find out if there are more, and eliminate them.”

Sunset considered for a moment. “Yes, then. I grant you permission. You have three days. If you do not return in that time, Xyuka, I will begin the attack without you.”

“Thank you, Lady Sunset,” said Xyuka, bowing. “I will not fail you. I will do everything within my power to make your goals a reality, and I will protect you, even if it means my own demise.”

Chapter 22: Scootaloo

The 192 was not a large vessel by any means. Despite its small size and extensive crew, however, Scootaloo often found that it was all-too-easy to be alone. She did not like to be alone. The ship itself was strange: the skeletal walls and lack of light made it seem like some kind of abandoned shell, and the engines did not make a normal sound. In fact, they sounded almost exactly like somepony whispering in a language that was almost possible to understand. Scootaloo could not move through the ship without jumping at every shadow. Sometimes, she would admonish herself for being such a coward- -but other times, she would look deep into the shadows and see the impossibly thin arms and legs of a tall alien as Bjorn stared back at her.

This meant that Scootaloo preferred to stay with the other ponies as much as she could. At this particular time, she found herself wandering through the halls with the alicorn named Nine. Nine was, at least according to her number, the youngest of the Twilight Sparkle clones. She was also slightly smaller than Eight, making her the smallest of her sisters. Scootaloo was still shorter, of course, but Nine was at least close in size.

Of all of the clones, Nine was the one that Scootaloo tended to spend the most time with. That was not because they were close, exactly, or at least any closer than Scootaloo had come with the others. Six was by far the kindest, but conversing with her was difficult. Conversation was impossible with Seven, which Scootaloo accepted as fortuitous. Seven frightened her more than slightly.

Four, meanwhile, spent literally all her time with Marc Antony, and Eight spent an exorbitant amount of time organizing and reorganizing her horded collection of supplies and weapons. Nine, meanwhile, liked to talk. A lot. Scootaloo did not mind so much; some of the stories were interesting, and Nine seemed to appreciate her company.

“And this section,” said Nine, pointing out an area where the ship had a marked difference between two welded section, “this was originally part of a small cruiser. The outer metal, though, is from a freighter. There was actually one time when a baterian torpedo hit us right there…” she pointed at an area where the metal was different. “Right through. Our atmosphere vented. It almost hit Ms. Oriana.”

“I’m glad you survived,” said Scootaloo. She was mildly distracted, not just by the possibility of Bjorn lurking in the shadows, but because she was starting to feel strange. For some reason, she felt anxious and agitated, and she kept stretching the muscles in her rear legs. No matter what she did, it seemed to remain. She blamed it on the unfamiliar atmosphere.

“We didn’t just survive. We had baterian for weeks.” Nine stuck out her tongue. “Mother makes an excellent baterian salad, but they are very greasy creatures. It is an easy flavor to get sick of.”

Before Scootaloo could formulate a comment on that, another alicorn approached from the other end of the hall. Eight paused, and looked at Scootaloo. Then she turned to Nine.

“Soeur,” she said. “Quand allons-nous lui Boucher ? En regardant son séduisant mais petites ailes qui me fait tellement faim!”

“Mère dit d’attendre au moins deux jours de plus,” responded Nine. “Nous les tuer ensuite. Je revendique une jambe.”

Scootaloo looked at the pair, perplexed. “I don’t speak French,” she said. “What are you saying?”

“Oh,” said Nine. “Eight just told me that you have pretty wings.”

“Aww,” said Scootaloo, smiling. “You have pretty wings too, Eight. I wish mine were as big as yours, though.”

“Trust me,” said Eight, “you do very, very well with a small pair.”

Scootaloo blushed, and the strange sensation that she had been feeling immediately became much stronger. She stepped back as Nine and Eight continued the conversation. Scootaloo braced herself against a wall as she felt faint, and then to her horror realized what she was feeling.

“Damn it,” she swore. “Not now…”

“Is something wrong, Scootaloo?” said Nine.

Scootaloo looked up at them, embarrassed to explain. They were both mares, though, and both older than she was. She decided that she could confide in them.

“The pills,” she said. “It’s been too long since I’ve had my pills. I’m…I’m having an estrus cycle.”

Nine and Eight looked at each other, and then at Scootaloo.

“That would explain why you smell so good,” said Eight.

“Please don’t joke,” said Scootaloo. “This is really, REALLY uncomfortable.”

“We know,” said Nine. She approached Scootaloo and put her hoof on the younger pony’s shoulder. “We know how it is. The early estrus can be…difficult. But…” she ran her hoof higher, into Scootaloo’s hair and then down her back to her wings. Scootaloo shivered. Nine was only making her situation worse. “…I remember when I had mine, mother would help me relieve it.” She smiled seductively, and Scootaloo suddenly realized just how sexy horns were. “We can help you too. If you want…”

The next thing Scootaloo knew, she was being led into a side room. She was already removing her clothing before she was laid down on a soft area. Both Eight and Nine were on top of her, taking turns kissing her and rubbing against her while Scootaloo tried to remove their clothing as well. They obliged, removing their own uniforms and helping Scootaloo out of hers.

It was not long before the others came. Scootaloo did not know what brought them; it could have been her smell, or perhaps the connection that they seemed to share with their sisters. Minutes after Eight and Nine had begun, Six and Seven arrived.

Scootaloo found herself surrounded by soft and muscular ponies and purple wings, all moaning and rubbing against her as she rubbed back. At first, it was nearly suffocating- -until Four arrived. When the eldest of the sisters came, the others parted, presenting Scootaloo to her. Four leaned forward and took Scootaloo in her forlegs, holding her softly and kissing her deeply. Scootaloo kissed back. She tasted so good.

Four disconnected, though, and ran her hoof gently through Scootaloo’s hair as she stepped away from the pile and took a seat at the edge of the room. The others took this as permission to continue, and Scootaloo felt all four of them descend upon her.

When Scootaloo woke up, the lights in the ship had shifted to night mode. Scootaloo paused for a moment, considering her situation. She was naked and soaked in sweat, both her own and that of the pile of sleeping Twilight Sparkles that surrounded her. They looked peaceful and happy, and they were clinging both to each other and her.

Scootaloo extricated herself from the tangle without waking them. Her fur felt strange, and she realized that it was matted with their shared secretions. Pausing for a moment, Scootaloo observed the pile. The only articles of clothing between them were Seven’s mask and Six wearing Scootaloo’s socks. Counting, them, though, Scootaloo saw that there were still only four. She looked at where Four had been sitting, and saw that she was gone, having left only a small puddle of her own fluids.

The whole situation seemed surreal. Scootaloo certainly felt relieved, and also a bit sore. Seven had left several deep bite marks on her body: one on her neck, one on her ear, and two on her flank. Scootaloo had actually enjoyed receiving them, but now they hurt.

Still, she did not regret what she had done. It was one of those things she had never, ever anticipated she would ever do in her life, but it had not been a bad thing. She had been willing, and so had they. The event was not nearly as intimate as her and Wintry, but it served its purpose quite well.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” said Scootaloo, smiling as she walked to the door.

“Neither can I, actually,” said a different voice.

Scootaloo jumped. Only then did she realize that there was another individual sitting near the door. Scootaloo squinted and saw Bob lurking. She also saw that Bob was completely naked.

“If you want to participate, I think you’re a little late. I think I’m spent.”

“Don’t be disgusting,” said Bob. “Like I would ever have sex with a girl. Pervert.”

She shifted position, and Scootaloo saw for the first time that humans were not as hairless as they appeared. Frankly, they looked very strange naked. Bob especially seemed bizarre with her gray, sickly skin and wiry frame.

Despite her appearance, Scootaloo approached and sat down next to the human. Up close, she could see that Bob had an extensive array of tattoos on her back and torso, including a large number on her lower neck. The tattoos extended down her left arm, but stopped abruptly on her right arm, which Scootaloo realized was just slightly paler than its twin.

“Hey, Scoots,” she said.

“Yeah- -” Scootaloos squeaked as a large srynge was jammed into her neck. Bob pulled the trigger, and Scootaloo felt something burning injected into her body. “What the buck!” she hissed, jumping back. “Why did you do that?”

“Relax,” said Bob, holding up the syringe. “It’s an immune modulator. You were just exposed to more diseases in six hours than most people are exposed to in oh, about twenty seven lifetimes. Give or take.”

“Diseases?” said Scootaloo, rubbing her neck. “You don’t mean…”

“Like mother like daughter,” said Bob, gesturing between her legs.

“So I take it I’m not their first.”

“They sometimes do it with each other when they need to. You’re the first one out of the network, though. I mean, how could they? They’re not that old.”

Scootaloo paused. “How old are they, exactly?”

“Well, let’s see…eleven months gestation, so…” Bob counted on her fingers. “Four is three. The rest just passed their second birthday.”

“You’ve got to be bucking kidd- -” Scootaloo looked at the pile. “So I just had my first orgy with a bunch of three years olds?”

“Two year olds. Only Four is three. And she usually just watches. How old are you?”

“I’m seventeen- -”

“Damn! Seventeen and THIS was your first orgy?”

“That’s not the point!” Scootaloo sat down and leaned against the wall where Bob was leaning.

“Do you regret it now?”

“No, that’s the problem. They were damn good.”

“I’m glad you think so. Because those are my daughters. And when I found out what you were doing, I seriously considered snapping off your legs.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t. I kind of need those.”

“Yeah. I’m glad I changed my mind too.” Bob looked at the sleeping pile of clones and smiled. “You have some skills. I’ve never seen them sleep this soundly after an escapade. Especially taking them all on at once.”

“What can I say? I’m pretty awesome.”

Bob laughed softly, and continued to look at the alicorns wistfully. “You know, Scoots, I’m going to be honest with you. There is not much in this world I actually value. The money, the food, the killing, I can give that up if I see a benefit. But those ponies? Those are the I have that actually matters in this life.”

“You love them.”

“They are my daughters. They are the only thing I love. I would do anything for those ponies.”

One of Scootaloo’s wings twitched. Bob seemed to notice. “Here,” she said, reaching out. “Come here. Let me get that.”

Scootaloo slid away, but Bob smiled. “Come on. It’s not a sexual thing. You can’t reach your own wings. And it’s not like I haven’t preened a pony before.”

After hesitating for a moment longer, Scootaloo nodded and slid close to Bob. She shivered as the human’s fingers caressed her wings.

“Careful,” she said. “They’re fragile.”

“I can tell. They’re so puny!”

“We can’t all have giant alicorn wings.”

“Really? I wouldn’t know. I don’t know a damn about pony culture.” She began straightening Scootaloo’s feathers. “Although sometimes I wish I could wonder…”

“What?” said Scootaloo. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Doesn’t it? Scoots, if they’re anything you need to take with you, it’s this: I’m not a nice person. At all. Cerberus is not a nice organization. There is as reason why they employ me. I am the epitome of human evolution. I don’t feel regret, remorse, or empathy. I can do anything I want to and never feel bad. I have done things you can’t even imagine.”

“It must be nice.”

“It is. And my daughters, they know this. I’m not genetically related to them, but we are the same. They know what to expect. Scootaloo, you can’t stay here. Not for much longer. Because before this is through, I’m going to do some terrible, terrible things. Things you shouldn’t be around.”

“I am a Priestess of the Cult of Harmony, and former captain in the Equestrian Navy. I don’t know what you are talking about, but trust me. I’ve seen things. A lot of things I wish I didn’t.”

“It’s a matter of perception,” said Bob, pulling out a loose feather. “Have you ever heard of Pragia?

“No. What is it?”

“Hell, essentially. Or that’s what the others said. It used to be my home.”

“Used to be?”

“It kind of…well…broke down. But that’s not the point. Do you know what Cerberus did there?”

“What?”

“Experiments. On children. On me. On the others.” Jack chuckled. “They tried to pump me up with numerous ounces of element zero. Do you have any idea how much an ounce of element zero weights?”

“Um…an ounce?”

“No. Not even close. None of it took, though. So they just made me fight. And kill. I think they thought I would die. I didn’t. How could I? I’d been feeding of humans since I was born.”

“I’m sorry,” said Scootaloo.

“For what? It didn’t bother me. Jackie boy, on the other hand…she didn’t take it so well. She gutted me. More than once. Took my arm. Oh man…I would break my ‘no girls rule’ for her. Oh wait, I already did.”

“And why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know. Because I like you? You’re adorable. But you’re not me. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say. You put me in a situation like that? I kill and eat children. Fun for me. My daughters? Well…I’ll never let them do what they did to me to them. But I’m sure they would hold their own.”

“But not me,” said Scootaloo. “You mean I’m different.”

“Yes. You’re not meant for that life. You’re like Oriana.”

“Oriana? The other human?” Scootaloo looked up at Bob. “I saw her on the Crimson Horizon. She cut through those creatures like they were nothing. She can fight, Bob.”

“I didn’t say she couldn’t. But her mind is wrong. She still believes in ‘morality’ and ‘justice’. Worse, that Cerberus even cares about that shit. What motivates me? The lols. I do this because I like to. What motivates her? Ideology. And ideology always breaks down. Every single time.”

“Damn,” said Scootaloo. “How did you get so cynical?”

“I did just tell you about being forced to kill other children for Cerberus experiments, right? Just kidding, I was born that way.” Bob picked up Scootaloo and set her down. “In other words? Don’t trust Oriana. Because if you do, when she fails she’ll take down you with her.”

The pony pile across the room stirred, and Nine sat up. Her hair was disheveled, and she yawned groggily. Then she got down from the others and approached Bob.

“Mommy?” she said. “I had the dream again. The one where I couldn’t move…and where somebody was shooting me…”

“Aww,” said Bob, picking her up. “It was just a dream.” She set Nine down in her lap and stroked her hair. Nine smiled and almost immediately went back to sleep.

The scene was bizarre, to say the least. A naked human woman comforting an alicorn clone fresh from an orgy, her mouth no doubt still tasting of Scootaloo’s varioius parts. The dichotomy was strange, and touching in a freakish way.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” said Scootaloo. “Thanks for the preening.”

“Yeah. Any time. And get yourself some breakfast. The Krogan Puffs, not the Shepard-Commander Crunch. Eight likes to organize those by color before she eats them. She’d throw a fit if the crunchberry color ratio was off.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Scootaloo.

When Scootaloo had left the room, Bob smiled, wondering exactly how much of her lies Scootaloo had accepted. She shook her head, wondering just exactly how much she had actually lied, or if it would even matter by the time this was all said and done.

Bob stood up, cradling Nine in her arms. She crossed the room and then slowly lowered herself into the pony pile. They stirred, and then surrounded her with their soft, warm bodies and feathers, holding her as tightly as she held them.

Scootaloo waited in the 192’s primary docking bay. It felt good to be clean and back in uniform. Her estrus was back under control, and she felt more focused than before. In her mind, she had begun prioritizing her future actions: she needed to return to her ship. It was impossible for her to know what state the Crimson Horizon was in, or if it had successfully reached the Crystal Galaxy, and she knew this. That was secondary, though. Returning was her top priority.

This only highlighted the ambiguity of Cerberus’ goals. Scootaloo knew that they were pursuing the Crimson Horizon. She did not know why, and she had not asked. It did not really matter. Her mission was simply to learn a way to stop it, and if Cerberus had some way to do that, then they were her allies.

On the far side of the room, the inner docking door slid open. Oriana entered the room, already wearing her form-fitting black and white Cerberus armor. Her helmet was under one arm, and in the other she was carrying a case.

“Oriana,” said Scootaloo. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Scootaloo,” said Oriana. “I hear you had a busy night last night.”

“That’s a bit intrusive, isn’t it?”

Oriana blinked. “Oh. It is, isn’t it? I’m sorry. I guess spending most of my time here has hampered my normal adequate.”

“It’s okay,” said Scootaloo. “How was your night?”

“Apart from the noise you were making, you mean? Not bad. I caught up on the tactical situations throughout or organization and the news from earth, then played chess with Bjorn. Then I went to bed. Oh,” Oriana lifted the case she was holding. “I brought you a present.”

“Really?” said Scootaloo. “I don’t really need- -”

“Trust me, it’s no big deal. We have a lot of these and we hardly ever use them.” Oriana set the case down on one of the counters in the room and opened it. She removed a system of white plastic-looking armor similar to her own.

“A Cerberus uniform? I’m not exactly part of your organization, you know.”

“I know. And it’s not a uniform. It’s a weapons framework. When the alicorn project started, Cerberus wasn’t sure if they would be born with the capacity to use biotics. They build these to let them fight anyway. But they were, so we never used them.”

“I’m not sure if I need guns,” said Scootaloo. “Marc Antony told me that this was a standard supply acquisition mission, whatever that means. I didn’t come expecting for a firefight.”

“I don’t expect it either. That’s the thing, though. You should always be prepared. It’s kind of the unofficial Cerberus motto.”

“If you insist, I guess,” said Scootaloo, taking the weapons array from Oriana. It was heavy and bulky, but it was not terribly unlike the weapons harnesses that the Equestrian navy used. The latches and buckles had even been designed for a pony to use them, although clearly not by a being that actually had to use hooves to don clothing. “Thanks.” Scootaloo looked up at Oriana. “You don’t have a gun, though.”

“Excess weight slows down my biotic recharge time. Even a small pistol cuts it by twenty percent.”

“So you just go in with magic alone?”

Oriana chuckled. “Magic? I’ve never heard it described that way. I think that’s a good word. But yeah. No guns.”

“That explains the others,” said Scootaloo.

“The alicorns? Oh no,” said Oriana. “They have guns. Or can have guns. It doesn’t affect them all that much.”

“Really? Why not?”

“Because their magic…is different. They don’t need time to recharge between attacks.”

“Huh,” said Scootaloo. “I guess I never thought about it that way. It must be weird to be a unicorn.”

There was a sudden flash of violet light beside Scootaloo and Eight dropped to the floor.

“Hey, you!” she said. Her eyes narrowed on Scootaloo’s newly equipped armaments, and then on Oriana. “You didn’t take that from my supply room, did you?”

“No,” said Oriana. “It was from the archive section.”

“Good,” said Eight. “Because it is absolutely critical that everything is in order. I have a system!”

“I don’t doubt it,” said Scootaloo.

The others began to arrive, although not by teleportation. Nine nodded to Scootaloo and then went about her preparations, while Seven just stared at her for a long, silent moment. Six was the only one of them that approached.

“I picked these for you,” she said, holding out a group of small yellow flowers in her magic. “They’re arugula. I know, they’re not much, but it’s all that is currently in bloom in my hydroponic system.”

“Oh, come on,” giggled Eight. “Seriously, Six? Flowers? The sweetness! My pony diabetes!”

Seven made a motion that looked like laughter and clutched her chest, feigning a sudden heart attack.

“Smooth, Six,” said Nine. “Real smooth. You’re hopeless.”

“Well excuse me if I have romantic predilections,” said Six, annoyed. “I prefer there to be at least a modicum of ritual. By Dagon…the ancients understood. They at least took time with courtship.”

“You weren’t taking too much time on her last night.”

“I think they’re pretty,” said Scootaloo. She took the flowers and threaded one of them through her hair.

“And I think it’s a good gesture,” said Oriana, patting Six on the head. “I have a water bottle in my locker. I can store them there until we get back.”

Scootaloo passed the remaining flowers to Oriana. As she did, Bob entered the room. All the alicorns responded to her presence, although only Nine actually stood at attention. Oriana’s cheerful mood seemed to drop away into seriousness, and she put her helmet on.

Bob was at the very least no longer naked. She was wearing a much heavier suit of Cerberus armor, and despite being shorter than Oriana by at least half a foot, she was far more imposing. In the light, her pupils had narrowed, once again into animal like vertical slits. Scootaloo was beginning to wonder if that was something human eyes actually did under normal circumstances.

“All right, pones,” she said, “and Oriana. Is everybody ready?”

“Yes, mother,” said Nine.

Bob smiled, and noticed the flower in Scootaloo’s hair. “Nice flower, Scoots,” she said. “BTW, though, arugula SUCKS. Harder than Eight.”

“Hey!”

“Hey is for horses,” said Bob. “Come on, Eight. At least you’re not Oriana. Because she has a lot more practice sucking than you ever will.”

“Ha ha,” said Oriana, humorlessly. “At least I’m not a convicted rapist.”

“I’m a woman,” said Bob. “I can’t possibly rape anybody. And that conviction was overturned. All of the judges were found mysteriously strangled with their own intestines. With equally mysterious anal violation.” Bob shrugged.

There was a slightly muffled mechanical sound, and the ship rumbled to a stop. There were several more mechanical clanks as the 192 docked.

“We’re in,” said Marc Antony over the intercom. “I’m opening the door.”

“Right,” said Bob. “Eight is on me, Seven on the Scootapone. Nine and Six, you already know what you have to do. Oriana…just do whatever it is you actually do.”

“Since when do you give orders?” said Oriana. “Especially to me?”

“Why? Why do I do anything? Because nobody’s stopping me.”

Before Oriana could retort, the bay door opened. There was a hiss as the air inside the 192 equalized to the pressure outside, and Scootaloo felt her ears pop. There was air, though, and although it was cold it smelled fresh- -or at least as fresh as re-filtered air could feel.

Scootaloo stepped out with Seven following close at her side. They were in a large but empty docking bay. The ceiling was surprisingly high, and the pipes that ran across the walls were humming with rushing fluid.

“Where are we?” said Scootaloo.

“An orbital mining platform,” said Bob, stepping out. “And look at the walls…they even painted them. Yeah, definitly asari.”

“Asari?” said Scootaloo. “The blue people?”

“Yes,” said Bob. “The tasty, tasty blue people. Of course, this place is unmanned. Well, I suppose everything the asari make is un-manned. But this station is automated. Which works for us. Considering we’re going to rob it blind.”

“We’re not going to rob it,” said Oriana. “We are requisitioning supplies. We need fuel and metal if we’re going to go back into combat. Don’t worry, Scootaloo. This is a minor, low-producing outpost. They won’t even notice us, or miss whatever we take.”

“If it helps me to get back to my ship, I’ll tolerate it,” said Scootaloo, relieved that the ship was devoid of what was apparently Bob’s favorite prey.

“Good, good. Because clearly I need your permission.” Bob gestured to Seven, and Seven nodded. The silent alicorn started walking. “Go with Seven. She’s done this before, she knows what she needs to do. Take in the sights while you’re at it. Everything the asari make is excessively ornate and rounded.”

“As opposed to the krogan designs you idolize?” snorted Oriana.

“Uh, yeah. I mean, rifle slits on a spaceship? How cool is that!”

Oriana just shook her head and walked off with Six and Nine. Bob watched her go, and then followed after Seven and Scootaloo before she and Eight took a narrow access corridor deeper into the satellite. Scootaloo was not sure what was going on, but she accepted that she had a role to play and continued to follow Seven- -all with the strange feeling that somehow she was being watched.

The orbital satellite was quite large. It had to be to house the material processing systems that it needed to mine effectively, and to have enough power to keep itself suspended in the stormy upper atmosphere of a gas giant. Somewhere below, VI-controlled machines were working under conditions that were lethal to every known form of life to dredge up resources and send them back to the orbital platform above. At one time, they might even have been successful. After nearly a century of operation, though, the operation was nearly defunct.

This did not especially concern Bob. Not much did. She had studied the schematic of the facility in advance, and took a direct path toward the control room. This was a logical step in redirecting resources- -or at least Bob suspected that it would look like one.

When she reached the door, she stopped. It was sealed and secured. It had not been difficult to dock to the satellite, but the area that actually allowed for control had been tightly locked away.

“I bet they even triple deadlock sealed it,” sighed Bob. She looked down at her daughter and smiled. “Assez de huit? If you would be so kind?”

Eight smiled and charged her horn. Bob held her breath as her body was surrounded by a miniature explosion of violet light, and then rematerialized on the far side of the door. She shook her head, trying to clear the momentary nausea that always accompanied alicorn-based teleportation. Unlike Bjorn’s version, Eight’s method had no intermediate plane, and Bob had grown used to using transmission to and back from Voqutus to stabilize herself.

The room was wide and filled with blue-violet colored equipment. All of it had rounded edges, and everything was covered in nearly seamless plating that some professional asari designer had no doubt been payed to construct for the sole purpose of making it pleasing to look at for the few times a decade when somebody actually showed up to maintain it.

“Hideous,” said Bob. “But what do I expect from the least sophisticated race in the whole damn galaxy?”

Ignoring how ugly the room was, Bob approached a large access panel that apparently controlled the hydrogen refining system. As Marc Antony had predicted, the deuterium and tritium supplies were at their peak. A ship would be here in a month to pick them up, but until then, they were completely unguarded save for this locked room and the satellite’s internal security software.

Not that any of that mattered. Bob could not have cared less about the hydrogen isotopes. Nobody had even bothered to ask what her ship ran on. Oriana and Scootaloo had just assumed it ran on hydrogen fusion. Knowing Oriana, she probably thought that the artifact at its core was some kind of mass-effect system, because that was exactly what Cerberus likely told her.

Bob opened the computer interface and clicked through the opening menus. They were all written in asari, but that did not stop her. Like the people who had created it, the asari written language was as basic as it was florid.

When she found the information she needed, Bob reached into one of her pockets and removed a small black item. She inserted it into the main data access port of the computer and watched the screen flicker.

“Four,” she said, speaking to the intercom system in her armor. “We’re connected.”

“I can see that,” said Four as the computer screen reverted to straight code at her command.

“And I already checked,” added Bob. “This station is definitely it. Valiel Heavy Industries.”

“Confirmed,” said Four.

“Finally,” said Bob. “It took damn long to find one of these still in operation. Can you hack it, Four?”

“Can I hack it- -it’s asari, isn’t it? The race has possessed FTL technology for over a thousand years, and the best advancement they’ve made in that time is the Destany Ascension. It won’t even be hard. But it will take time.”

“Nobody’s here,” said Bob. “Nobody’s going to notice. And…” She paused, moving her fingers over a different computer, “I think I’ll siphon off their platinum supply as well. We need funds to protect the galaxy, right?”

“Funds that go directly into your personal bank account?”

“Hey, Cerberus pays well, but not that well. There is no such thing as too much money.” Bob accessed the controls and began to unload the station’s platinum supply onto her ship. It was probably isotope branded, but the baterian black market did not care. More importantly, it would look to the others like they really had come to steal resources. For this project, it would be best to keep Oriana in the dark for as long as possible.

Back on the ship, Four began her work. A large violet console had been projected out before her, interfacing her to the ship’s system. The 192did have a central computer, although to be more precise, it was a combination of incompatible computational nodes jury-rigged together. The only reason it actually worked was because Marc Antony and herself were able to act as the core processing themselves, although it was rumored that when the vessel had initially been constructed Bob had managed to fly it on her own. Which, for being a human, was incredibly impressive.

Marc Antony leaned back in his chair and looked at the visual representations of Four’s work.

“A cubic domain cycle?” he said, raising one blonde eyebrow. “Do you really think you can sustain that?”

“You’re right,” admitted Four. She paused what she was doing and entered code- -and opened up a fourth degree system.

Marc Antony laughed, and Four could not help but smile. His laughter always made her so happy. “You’re crazy,” he said.

“Crazy good, you mean,” said Four.

“Well, it’s because you have such a good teacher.”

“You mean that enormous manual I’ve had to read? Or the musty textbooks in the aft storage room?”

“Harsh,” said Marc Antony, feigning insult. “My heart! It is broken!”

“You don’t have a heart,” pointed out Four. “You don’t even have anything close to a circulatory system.”

“I know. I don’t even have oil. Because I’m totally unlubricated.”

“You had better not be.”

They both laughed. Marc Antony leaned back in his chair. “So, I was thinking. There is a new restaurant on out in the Nubian Expanse- -some boondocks colony, but a growing one- -and it has been getting rave reviews on the extranet.”

“You’ve been reviewing the snyth food reviews? Again?”

“Is it so wrong for a man to want to be cultured? Even in this line of work?”

“You don’t even eat. You can’t eat. Your mouth-hole doesn’t go anywhere. Believe me, I know.”

“Oh, not for me. That’s not what synth critics consider. It’s all about atmosphere. But they say the food is amazing. I was wanting to check it out myself. Would you care to accompany me?”

“Me? Why?”

“Why? I haven’t been able to share experiences with anyone in a long time. You know that. Don’t get me wrong, I …tolerate Bob. But she’s as ugly as sin and frankly disgusting. You are adorable and quick-witted. I’m even surprised you managed to pop out of…that.”

“I don’t even have anything to wear,” said Four, making excuses. She suddenly became far more conscious of perpetual low-level pain in the scarred stumps where her long, beautiful wings had once sat.

“Then we’ll stop at Illium and get you a dress. I’ll even pay for it. It would be worth it to see you in something other than a Cerberus uniform. Or, if you prefer, we can both go in the nude.”

Four snorted as she thought about what that would look like, and then covered her nose in embarrassment.

“You snorted,” said Marc Antony.

“Shut your synth hole,” said Four, shoving his shoulder.

“Why don’t you come over here and shut it for me?”

“I would, but the- -”

Something suddenly started beeping. Marc Antony’s expression hardened, and he suddenly leaned forward. His speed as he descended toward his own console sent shivers down Four’s spine. As an android, Marc Antony was substantially faster than the human he pretended to be, but he always moved with careful consideration to acting the part conveyed by his synthetic skin. If he was moving at full speed, something was wrong.

“Marc?”

“Proximity warning,” said Marc Antony, undocking the ship and retracting it form the station. “We have company.”

“I’ll provide code support- -”

“No, I’ll handle ship function. Keep up the decryption. We’re not going to get another chance.”

Four nodded, and redoubled her effort. She placed her confidence in Marc Antony’s piloting skills. She could not help but feel nervous, though. Her sisters and mother were still on the satellite below.

To Scootaloo, the satellite was both impressive and eerie. Everything inside it had been designed to be large enough for equipment to be moved through, which compared to her tiny frame made everything seem immense. Care had been taken in its aesthetics as well; the hallways were not cold and industrial, but often lined with long, curving, segmented windows that revealed a breaking landscape that consisted of a sea of deep-blue cloud waves over a seemingly endless planet below.

Seven seemed to be especially interested in the sight, although as always she remained silent. She still frightened Scootaloo slightly, but not as much. It was just difficult for Scootaloo to fear somepony that she had had sex with. Or, perhaps, Seven had just become more comfortable around Scootaloo.

“So,” said Scootaloo. “You don’t talk.”

Seven paused, and then nodded, the faceplate of her helmet bobbing up and down.

“But you can talk?”

Once again, she nodded.

“Oh,” said Scootaloo. “That’s okay. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

They stood there together in silence for a moment, looking out at the landscape- -when Scootaloo saw something on the horizon.

Scootaloo pressed her face against the glass and squinted, trying to make out what she was seeing through the stormy atmosphere. It looked like a light, but not something reflecting the deep orange of the system’s distant sun. Instead, it looked like a crisp white fractal.

Then something slammed into the station. Alarms went off, and Scootaloo was almost knocked off balance. Seven caught her as the station listed, and then corrected itself. Through the window, Scootaloo saw something flash past the glass. There was not enough time for her to see it clearly, but just enough for her to recognize it.

“We’re under attack,” she said, righting herself. She looked up at Seven. “We have to get back to your ship and get out. NOW.”

Seven nodded and turned around- -only to be faced with a horde of the Crimson Horizon’s creatures, all moving silently as they crawled across the floor and ceiling. This time, though, they were led by a pale unicorn dressed in heavy armor.

There had not been any ponies on the Crimson Horizon, and Scootaloo momentarily wondered if there was a way to escape bloodshed by talking to her. Something was wrong, though. Her eyes, though filled with rage and conviction, seemed blank and dead, even more so than the creatures that she led.

Scootaloo stopped. Something had been done to that pony.

“Kill them,” she said. “For the glory of Sunset Shimmer, kill them!”

Seven did not hesitate. She spread her wings and rushed forward. The unicorn projected a shield, but Seven’s magic was infinitely stronger. She crashed through it dug her teeth into the pony’s neck, tearing it out with a single motion. Scootaloo saw the look in the pony’s eyes change, as if for a moment her mind cleared- -only for her to experience the terror of coking on her own fluids.

One of the creatures suddenly dropped to the floor. Scootaloo turned and opened fire- -only to be slammed backward from the recoil. She had been expecting a magic discharge, but what she had received was a very large projectile being fired from her side. The left torso of the creature exploded in a plume of black fluid and bone fragments, but Scootaloo was knocked off balance. One of the others took advantage of this and leapt toward her, only for it to be surrounded by a violet field that twisted its body suddenly and crunched through all of its joints a hideous sound.

The ruined but still spasming corpse dropped to the floor, and Scootaloo righted herself. She fired several more shots into the nearest of the creatures, but the recoil was just too high. The weapon had been meant for a much larger pony, ideally one with useful wings to stabilize herself- -and both size and functional wings were the two things that Scootaloo lacked.

“Seven!” cried Scootaloo. “We need to get out of here! Can you clear a path?”

Seven did not answer, but instead backed away from the corpse that she had most recently disemboweled. Scootaloo thought she saw her smile, and Seven’s horn ignited with violet light. Suddenly the air was filled with a surge of spinning, whirling magical singularities stretched into long blades. They cut through everything in the room with utter disregard for what they were cutting. Parts of the creatures flew everywhere and their putrid black blood splattered on the walls.

The satellite itself took substantial damage as Seven indiscriminately cut into the walls and windows. To Scootaloo’s horror, she saw the thick glass melt, crack, and then shatter. Many of the creatures were immediately sucked out through the hole, and Scootaloo felt herself being drawn to it by the rapidly evacuating atmosphere. Her tiny wings fluttered uselessly as she tried and failed to get a grip.

Before she could reach the hole to the void beyond, though, Seven rushed by, her body charged with violet light. She grabbed Scootaloo and pulled them through an emergency bulkhead door just before it closed, and they collapsed on the ground.

Scootaloo realized that Seven was breathing heavily. Even as an alicorn, her magic was not infinite, and she had just expended a lot of it. Despite being winded, though, she stood. So did Scootaloo- -and the pair immediately found themselves face to face with yet another horde of creatures staring silently back with blank, reflective eyes.

Something caused a subtle tremor in the orbital platform, and Bob sat up, her senses suddenly sharpening. She did not know what was going on, but instinctively, she knew that something was.

“Great,” she sighed. “And everything was going so damn well.”

There was a suddenly flash and a small explosion as Eight appeared in the satellite control room. She looked panicked, and almost as soon as she entered something started pounding on the heavy steel door to the room. It was not pounding lightly, either. After several attempts the door actually started to deform.

“Holy crap, holy crap!” cried Eight. She was on the verge of hyperventilation. “Mom, there’s things out there! BAD things!”

“Eight,” said Bob, watching as the door started to glow and melt as something was cutting through the locking mechanism. “What is the first rule of our job?”

Eight blinked. “Don’t stick your pecker in a toast- -”

“No, not that one. The one in the back of the Cerberus manual. Not Oriana’s, the one I keep in the bathroom.”

“Don’t panic?”

“Exactly.” Bob held out her hand. “I could use a weapon.”

“A weapon? Oh- -right.” Eight charged her horn, and there was a flash of light in Bob’s hand. An ornate katana appeared.

Bob looked at the sword, then at Eight, and then back at the sword. “What the fuck, Eight? What on God’s brown-gray smoggy Earth am I supposed to do with this piece of crap?”

“Oh, sorry,” said Eight. “I just thought…it would be really cool to see you use it…”

“There’s a reason nobody uses swords anymore, Eight. Because all the people who knew how got shot. What do I look like, a Phantom?”

“No. Hold on.” The katan disappeared and was replaced by an exorbitantly large blue revolver.

“Huh,” said Bob, turning it over. “I don’t remember this one.”

“It’s called the ‘Pestilent Defiler’,” explained Eight. “I think you’ll like it.”

By this point, the door had sustained so much damage that it started to crumble, with the upper left corner pealing back. One of the creatures outside started to claw its way in, reaching for Eight.

“Well, let’s see,” said Bob. She pressed the end of the gun against the creature’s head and fired. There was a resounding report from the bullet, and the creature’s head was knocked back. Its body was then promptly covered with bubbling, hissing green fluid that rapidly consumed its flesh, eating at its body as the creature writhed in silent agony. Within seconds, all that was left was a blackened skeleton that promptly collapsed into dust.

“Hmm,” said Bob. “Effective. Also, I hope you don’t mind, but just letting you know, I WILL be masturbating with this gun later. Because I FUCKING LOVE IT.”

“You take the barel, I’ll take the handle.”

Bob looked at the grip of the revolver. “I’m pretty sure it won’t fit, Huit.”

“Trust me. It does.”

Bob brought the handle of the pistol to her nose and smelled it. “Well I’ll be damned.”

At that point, the door collapsed completely. A heavily armored Pegasus pony entered first, his eyes focused directly on Eight. She did not hesitate; there was a snap as she engaged her teleportation spell, and the room was immediately strewn with entrails and internal organs. The Pegasus stallion looked down in shock at his now hollow body, and then collapsed.

“Epic, Eight,” said Bob. She leveled the Defiler and fired several shots into the crowd behind the Pegasus, watching them corrode and sizzle with glee. Eight followed suit; with her mother at her side, she had become far more focused. She teleported behind the horde, and when the first creature noticed it she partially teleported it half a meter to the left, forcing its body to materialize halfway into the wall and partway into one of its comrades.

Another immediately approached from behind her, and Eight smiled as she raised one hoof. There was a surge of teleportation, and a still-beating heart appeared in her grasp. The creature saw this and took a step back, clutching its chest.

“Can’t do much without- -”

Without warning, the creature lunged at Eight, its mouth opening impossibly wide to reveal hundreds of razor sharp teeth. Eight tried to summon a shield, but the attack had come too suddenly and too unexpectedly. She ducked and covered her head.

Bob suddenly pivoted, interposing herself between the creature and Eight.

“AW FUCK!” she cried as the creature’s teeth imbedded into her right arm near the shoulder. There was a crack of bone as it bit down again and again, but Bob still managed to raise her revolver and put a round directly through its left eye.

The creature dropped, and Bob stepped back, breathing hard.

“Mom, your arm!” cried Eight, feeling as though she was about to vomit.

Bob looked down at her arm. It was mostly detached, hanging only by a thin strip of sinew and skin. “Goddamn it,” she said. “I just grew that back.”

“I’ll- -I’ll get a medkit- -”

“Don’t bother,” said Bob. She picked up the limb with her remaining arm and bit the tendons free with her teeth. “It’s too torn up to reattach.”

“But- -but your arm- -”

“Worth it,” said Bob, raising her pistol and rejoining the battle. “They can survive without their heart. I can’t.”

Something heavy slammed into the 192. Marc Antony adjusted for the disruption to the outer shields and corrected the gravity rotor balance. He was working at the maximum speed that his structure and core processor would allow, but it was getting to the point where the ship could not respond to him as quickly as he could calculate and process what he needed to do.

Alarms went off.

“What happened?” said Four. “I’ve never heard that one before!”

“We’ve been boarded,” said Marc Antony, trying to sound nonchalant in the face of this unbelievable insult.

From down the hall, something started clicking against the floor. Something heavy.

“Damn it,” he said. “Not now…”

“Finished!” cried Four, pushing off from her swivel stool.

“Four? What are you doing?”

“Can you evacuate?” she asked.

“No, not while maintaining evasive action and recalibrating the shields. I can’t move.”

“Then what am I doing? I’m saving your tight android ass, that’s what I’m doing.”

A creature emerged from the darkness outside of the control room. Four had yet to see one of these creatures in person; she had only heard about them from her younger sisters. It was ugly, but not the worst. After all, she had stared into the eyes of a creature far more evil once before in her life.

Four charged her horn and projected a beam of biotic energy, slicing through three of the creatures. Their parts dropped to the floor, still clawing their way forward for a moment before becoming still.

As soon as the spell ended, Four cried out in pain. She dropped to her knees and coughed, producing a wide stain of blood on Marc Antony’s immaculate floor. She did not stop, though, and produced a shield over the gap as the door began to seal.

The creatures were strong, though. They slammed into the shield again and again, cracking it until one could get its sythe-like arms into the door, pushing it back. Every blow the gave to the shield was a blow to Four’s frail body, and she could feel her insides being torn apart by the expenditure of magic.

“Four! Stop!” cried Marc Antony. “You’re killing yourself!”

“I have to…protect you…” She coughed again, and vomited. This time much more blood came out of her.

“Four…Four, how long can you maintain consciousness?”

“Not long…”

“You’re going to have to! Switch places?”

Four looked up and smiled. She lifted herself quickly as Marc Antony slid off his chair. They embraced for a moment in-between, with Marc Antony helping her into his chair and shielding her as he took her place. Four immediately opened her interface and took over operation of the ship.

The creatures apparently found this amusing. One of them lifted its claw and immediately stabbed it through Marc Antony’s throat. It went in through the front and emerged near the base of his skull.

“Yeah, that’s not going to work,” said Marc Antony. He reached out and grabbed the creature. It struggled, but he pulled, tearing it limb from limb. Black fluid spewed everywhere. “You know,” said Marc Antony, pulling the claw out of his neck, “I abhor violence. But not because of any sort of empathy. No. I don’t actually care. I just HATE making a MESS.”

He took the creature’s arm and stabbed one of its comrades through the head with it. He twisted, and then punched it in the chest with enough force to lodge his arm up to the elbow.

Four felt herself growing weak, but she knew that Marc Antony was counting on her. She had to be magnificent. So she was, taking control, working in what he had taught her with her own design. She felt cold and numb, but if he would fight for her, then she would fight for him.

Marc Antony, meanwhile, was trying to make sure that Four did not notice that he was severely outclassed. He was certainly strong, but he had not been built as a combat unit. He had no real fighting skill or ability; he just punched and hit where he could, and he was quickly realizing that the creatures- -whatever they were- -were capable of adapting to and exploiting that failure.

Although he would never grow tired or weak, Marc Antony would not be able to hold them off for long. There were too many, and more just seemed to keep coming. He was quickly forced back into the control room.

Then, suddenly, from the shadows, two pairs of hands with immensely long fingers stretched out and gently set themselves on the shoulder of nearest of the creatures. It was only a light touch, and the creatures actually seemed confused- -until their bodies atomized into blue dust.

This set off minor chair reaction, and Bjorn moved quickly. Marc Antony shivered at just how effective the alien was. Despite his narrow frame, every motion that Bjorn made was invariably lethal- -and he showed no sign of remorse or hesitation. Within a matter of seconds, the entire contingent of creatures- -and a pair of ponies- -had been reduced to mildly luminescent dust.

“Bjorn!” said Marc Antony. “What are you doing here? You should be protecting the reactor!”

Bjorn looked down the android. “You misinterpret our roles. You have our relationship inverted.”

Before Marc Antony could even ask what that meant, the ship shook and listed. He turned around and saw Four slide off the console, leaving a long trail of blood as she fell to the floor.

“Oh no,” he said, grabbing the control. “Bjorn, please, help her!”

Bjorn said nothing. He simply stepped into the room, folding his body to fit the confines of the control area, and gently picked up the dying pony. She stirred, but only weakly. Bjorn was not sure if there was still time.

Scootaloo pushed her way through the horde, firing her weapons again and again into them. Seven, meanwhile, continued to fight alongside her. It was impossible for the two to speak, but as they cleaved their way through the horde, Scootaloo found herself suddenly knowing exactly where Seven would be, and what her intentions were. Scootaloo was not sure if this was part of her magic or if the two were just unusually synchronized, but she did not care. As a team, they were excellent. When Scootaloo wanted to fire, Seven would devote some of her magic to stabilize her; likewise, when Seven was pushed back, Scootaloo knew exactly when and where to provide cover fire.

They were moving slowly through the ship toward the docking bay when Seven paused. She looked out the window, and Scotaloo did too- -only to see that the ship was missing. Outside, in its place, was a horde of the octahedral ships whirring around the satellite like wasps.

Some of them seemed to notice that they were being watched and diverted their path- -directly toward Scootaloo and Seven’s position. The only thing Scootaloo could think to do was to take a defensive stance, but as she did, she suddenly felt a magic surge on her side pushing her toward an open door.

“Seven! Stop!”

It was too late. Scootaloo was shoved through the door, and Seven slashed through the control box, forcing the main door and the blast bulkhead to close. Seven nodded to Scootaloo, and then turned back toward the horde to fight it alone.

“Seven!” cried Scootaloo, pounding on the door. It was no use, though; with the controls broken, there was no way to open it.

She turned around and looked into the area where she had been stored. There were no creatures here, and to Scootaloo’s surprise, it was not a simple closet. In fact, it was a massive circular room. It seemed to consist of a wide mezzanine over a large circular pit that continued down the length of the satellite into the dark depths, forming one of the deep spires that extended lower into the planet’s atmosphere and contained whatever gas harvesting and refining equipment it might have needed.

“Damn it,” swore Scootaloo. “Seven, no…”

“I would not disparage a selfless act,” said a distorted mechanical voice. Scootaloo stiffened, and tried to focus her eyes on the shadows that filled the edges of the large and poorly lit room. The voice had echoed, and for a terrifyingly long moment her eyes flitted about the room- -until they landed on a small white circle.

A pony stepped forward. Not one of the dead-eyed, armored ponies, and not one of the creatures. It was the pony that Scootaloo had seen before, on the Crimson Horizon, the one whose body was completely encased in orange-violet armor.

“Hello, Scootaloo,” she said. From behind her, a large contingent of the mutated creautes clicked forward.

“So,” said Scootaloo, bracing herself against the door for a final stand. “I guess you’re not going to fight fair, are you?”

“Fair?” said the pony. She looked behind her at the creatures. “Oh. I see.” She raised a hoof, and the creatures’ eyes widened with shock at their betrayal as their bodies detonated, torn apart from within. Their organic parts collapsed into dust, and their metallic components fell to the floor and shattered, boiling and sublimating from whatever force had torn apart their original owners.

Scootaloo stared wide eyed. “But…but why?”

“Why not?” said the armored pony. “You asked for a fair fight. Unfortunately, that is still not possible. This meeting has only one forgone conclusion: I will win.”

“Like Tartarus.” Scootaloo pressed her rear against the door and fired her weapons. The projectiles never reached their target. The pony stepped forward into them, and a translucent shield surrounded her body, absorbing the blows.

“A mass-effect weapon? Primitive. Try harder, Scootaloo.”

“Why do you know my name?” demanded Scootaloo.

“Because there is always a Scootaloo. Every single time.”

Scootaloo suddenly rushed forward, charging headlong into the armored pony. Despite her small stature, Scootaloo had excelled at hoof-to-hoof combat in the Naval Academy, as she had with all things in a badly failed bid to impress Rainbow Dash. If normal weapons would not work, it meant she had to do this the hard way.

The armored pony did not defend herself. Rather, she dodged. Scootaloo was almost knocked off balance just by having missed her, but she recovered and struck again- -only to have her adversary shift and avoid that blow as well. Scootaloo struck again and again, but each time the other pony dodged. It was enraging, but at the same time, Scootaloo instinctively knew that something was wrong. The pony was not just dodging; she was anticipating blows before they happened.

“By this time, I’m sure you are wondering,” said the armored pony, shifting once again. She was not even out of breath. With the amount of armor she was wearing, she should have been slow and heavy- -or at the very least have gotten winded quickly. Instead, she seemed completely unfazed by what was occurring. “How I am managing to predict every one of your motions.”

“Just- -hold- -STILL!”

“And I find myself wondering, what exactly do you hope to accomplish by striking me? My body is completely covered in armor, Scootaloo. You cannot injure my by that method.”

“I- -don’t- -CARE! I’m gonna punch you square in the snoot!”

“Fine,” said the pony. She suddenly stopped moving, and Scootaloo landed a directly punch to her face.

As soon as she did, she realized that it was a terrible idea. She felt something in her wrist pop, and pain rushed up her leg, followed by numbness. The armored pony did not seem to care, apart from an apparent mild amusement.

Scootaloo stepped back, only to feel something tugging at her other three legs. She looked down to see what looked like tendrils of segmented wire wrapped around her legs- -all leading back to the armored pony.

The wire suddenly swept Scootaloo to the side, digging into her skin. It picked her up and flung her to one side of the room, where her back slammed into a heavy conduit. Another wave of pain went through her before she landed in a heap.

“Disappointing,” said the armored pony.

Scootaloo struggled to stand up, and looked into the masked face of her opponent. Then she smiled. She raised on wing as if to fire the weapon held under it, and the other pony braced for an attack- -only to realize that the weapon was missing.

Too late, she realized that it was sitting beside her- -within the normal circumference of her shields. Before she could react, it detonated, knocking her off balance. Scootaloo did not hesitate. Ignoring the pain in her leg and in her back, she jumped forward, tackling the armored pony, forcing her back to the edge of the machinery in the center of the room.

The explosion had apparently not caused any harm, but it had been distracting enough to allow Scootaloo to get the armored pony to the very precipice of the pit below. Now near it, Scootaloo could see that it descended far out of sight into blackness.

Scootaloo pushed her opponent out over the edge, just barely holding onto her tight enough to keep her from falling in. “Who are you?!” she demanded.

The pony paused. Then she answered, her voice as monotonous as ever. It was as though she had no concept of her present state, hanging over a pit that might be functionally bottomless. If anything, she sounded bored- -and that only enraged Scootaloo further.

“I had a name once,” she said. “A long, long time ago. But I lost it. Now, my mistress Sunset Shimmer has given me the name Xyuka. That is the only name I need.”

Scootaloo jerked her closer to the pit, and she felt the mare recoil slightly. Perhaps she really was afraid. “Do you think that MEANS anything?!”

“Are you going to drop me, Scootaloo? Would you kill me? It wouldn’t be hard, I suppose. Just let go. This pit leads to the planet’s upper atmosphere. I would fall into it. Trapped in the gravity. I would be crushed to death.”

“I’m seriously considering it unless you start talking.”

“Why? I have nothing to say.”

“Then you’re going in the hole. Is that what you want?”

“Scootaloo,” said the pony, shaking her head in disappointment. “Do you really think you have the upper hoof in this situation? I’m stronger, smarter, faster, and more durable than you ever will be. But I can also do one thing you will never be able to do.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

Xyuka suddenly reached up and slapped Scootaloo’s hooves away. Already off balance, she started to fall past the rim of the pit beyond. Scootaloo reached for her, trying to regain her grip, but it was already too late.

Then the armor that covered Xyuka’s body changed. The area on her back opened and shifted, igniting with intense blue light. Her descent slowed, and the jets shifted to direct her upward- -and she soared upward.

“I can fly,” she said.

Xyuka’s armor changed once again. Scootaloo watched as several objects emerged from her, hovering around her in a slowly revolving circle. They looked like tiny, brass-colored metal orbs.

Then, at Xyuka’s command, they ignited into organge spheres of plasma and descended. Scootaloo barely managed to dodge the first one as it pierced through the deck where she had been standing, exploding with enough force to nearly knock her off balance. By some miracle, she was able to keep her footing and dodge the next one- -and then she ran, avoiding the explosions as they landed around her.

There was no way to escape. Xyuka slowly hovered behind Scootaloo, following her. From what Scootaloo could tell, the room was sealed. The only option was the pit- -and Xyuka was right: Scootaloo did not have functional wings. If there was a lower level, there was little chance she would be able to reach it.

Another explosion erupted near Scootaloo. This one finally did knock her to her side. Unlike the other explosions, though, this one was violet.

There was a flash of white, black, and purple as Seven shot through the hole she had just blasted in the wall. With her wings spread and her body charged with the glow of her magic, she charged Xyuka. Xyuka tried to dodge, but Seven managed to grab her, tearing at one of her jets with her magic. The engine burst into flames and sparked as it was ruined, and Xyuka plummeted to the ground.

A second blow knocked Xyuka back, her metal-clad hooves skidding across the floor toward the pit. Seven did not hesitate; she charged again, baring her long fangs in rage.

Xyuka dodged, but only incompletely. She shifted, driving her shoulder into Seven’s chest. At the same time, she slammed her hoof into Seven’s horn. There was a sudden surge of sparking light and violet energy, and Scootaloo heard Seven scream as she convulsed. It was a horrible sound that made every hair on her body stand on end.

“Seven!” cried Scootaloo.

The sparking stopped and Seven collapsed, her body still smoking. She did not move.

“Twilight Sparkle?” said Xyuka, her voice tinged with disbelief. Segmented cables emerged from her back and wrapped around Seven’s body, lifting her up for closer examination.

“No…” she said. “A clone. Very interesting…”

“Leave her ALONE!” demanded Scootaloo. “This is our fight! She has nothing to do with this!”

The white circle that represented Xyuka’s single eye focused squarely on Scootaloo. “You care for this clone?” she said. “Excellent.”

The cabled tightened, and then went taught. Seven’s body was contorted as she was folded backward. With a loud and sudden snap, her spine broke. She whimpered as her pelvis was pressed against the back of her head, her rear legs still twitching morbidly.

“NO!” cried Scootaloo.

Xyuka dropped Seven. “I abhor clones,” she said. “The idea of copying a pony…but my experiment indicates that you do, in fact, care for her.” She extended one of her hooves, and the metal around it warped as though it were liquid, forming a long blade. “Or did.”

Scootaloo charged her, but she was already too late. There was no way she could make it, and for a moment, she thought she would see her friend die- -until a dark shape leapt from the mechanical level above and landed on Xyuka’s back.

“Bjorn!” cried Bob, wrapping her one remaining arm arouond Xyuka’s neck. “OPEN IT!”

There was a flash of deep blue light, and Scootaloo felt herself being pulled backward along with Seven, Xyuka, and Bob, sucked toward a portal that had just opened near them. The sudden motion was disorienting, and by the time Scootaloo realized what was happening, she was falling.

She was no longer aboard the satellite. In fact, she had no idea where she was at all. The air was immensely hot and thick. It was almost unbreathable, and every breath burned Scootaloo’s lungs. Her eyes stung and watered, but even through the tears that the sulfurous atmosphere induced, she was able to see an endless sky overhead. Not blue, like the one on Equestria, but a horrible sickly yellow color.

The alien air was roaring through her ears, and Scootaloo felt herself spiraling. She tried to stabilize herself, but her wings were too small and weak to do anything more than partially regain control. Above her, she saw Seven falling, her own wings as limp and useless as the rest of her.

Farther above, Bob and Xyuka were locked in aerial combat. Unlike when she had been fighting Scootaloo, Xyuka did not seem to be able to remotely predict Bob’s actions. Bob, meanwhile, fought with absolute disregard for her own safety: she scratched and clawed and bit at Xyuka like a mad animal, all the while ignoring every blow that Xyuka landed on her. All the while, Scootaloo thought she could hear her screaming obscenities in a language that was neither Equestrian nor French.

Suddenly, something came up from below. At first, Scootaloo had no conception of what it was. Then her mind managed to realize that it was some kind of animal, a massive obese thing with a segmented body and seemingly hundreds of translucent wings. It was nearly a hundred feet long, but it flitted upward through the dense atmosphere like a dragonfly, the numerous insect-like mouths on its body pumping to breathe as it released an incredibly loud whistling sound.

Then the whistling grew even louder, and Scootaloo watched as more of them came up from below. She cried out and covered her eyes, trying to protect herself from the onslaught of creatures. They did not seem interested in her, though, and they turned in the air to avoid the falling interlopers.

While looking down, though, Scootaloo felt her heart fall into her stomach. She could see the ground below, and it was getting closer very, very quickly. It was deep red, like blood, and it looked like it might be a desert, or perhaps an ocean. That was not the problem, though.

Something was rising from the ground below. Scootaloo’s eyes could barely comprehend the scale of the mouth that was pulling its way through the sand below. Knowing that the smallest of the blubbery winged creatures was the size of a starship, though, she quickly realized in absolute terror that it dwarfed them. The teeth alone must have been miles long, and it was rising with impossible speed, pulling the flying creatures into its gaping maw.

Bob seemed to notice this as well, and Scootaloo saw her mouth a much more recognizable curse. Bob then kicked Xyuka in the chest, propelling herself toward Seven. When she reached the alicorn, she reached to her side and produced a revolver.

“Scootaloo!” she cried over the roar of the fall. “I’m sorry! But I warned you!”

She threw the gun, and at the same time took Seven under her arm. There was another flash of blue light as a second portal appeared, and Bob and Seven vanished.

At this point, Scootaloo started to panic. It was also the point in time when she realized that with Bob gone, Xyuka was now approaching her instead.

Feebly, Scootaloo did her best to swim through the air to grab the revolver that Bob had tossed her. It was almost a quarter the length of Scootaloo’s entire body, and even as Scootaloo reached it she realized that it was designed for creatures with fingers instead of hooves.

The mouth below was now growing closer. The tips of the teeth were ascending quickly past her and Xyuka to trap the creatues that had already passed. Scootaloo tried her best to ignore it and pointed the revolver at Xyuka. Xyuka did not have her jets anymore, but she was still managing to adjust her fall in such a way that she was only seconds away from overtaking Scootaloo.

Scootaloo fumbled with the revolver, desperately trying to reach her hooves into the trigger guard. Her panic only grew when she realized that it was too small, that she could not reach it. Xyuka was growing even nearer, and the mouth was starting to close. Scootaloo could smell its breath.

Paniced, reached out and put her mouth around the trigger. She pulled it with her tongue. The first thing she became aware of as she did was an impossibly loud sound that accompanied a blast of white, star like light as the recoil of the enormous pistol slammed it into her face. She was knocked mostly unconscious, but not before seeing one of the bullets impact directly in the center of Xyuka’s mask.

Dazed from the head trauma, Scootaloo felt herself slipping into grayness. She knew she was probably going to die, and she felt a pair of hooves take her into a final embrace.

“Are you sure you are ready for this?” asked Blossomforth.

“Yes,” said Wintrygust.

“Really? Because I’m not.”

“Dr. Heart has assured me that we will have weapons.”

“And how is she supposed to make weapons? Out of what? Flatware from the galley?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care.” Wintrygust opened a control hologram. She raised a hoof, but hesitated, keeping it hovering over the command controls. “Are we all ready?”

“I’m so ready you could paint with me! I’m so excited!” cried Pinkie, literally shaking with anticipation. Next to her, Sassaflash released a loud snore. Wintrygust turned her attention to Blossomforth.

“And you?” she asked.

“Of course. I was born ready.” She sighed. “And I guess I’ll die ready. Who knew I would be led to my death by a damn breeder.”

“Nobody’s going to die,” said Wintrygust, trying to sound confident in an assertion that she had not guarantee of. She had no idea what they were going to find when she engaged the teleport- -but she knew that this was no time for fear or thoughts of self-preservation. If the now deceased creature in the lower deck was correct, Scootaloo might well be waiting on the other side of that teleport.

“Engaging,” she said, lowering her hoof on the control. If shifted from red to violet, and the Failure shook as it was engulfed in violet light. A sphere formed arouond it, and then imploded. Blossomforth closed her eyes, but Wintrygust barely flinched. She had been through this process countless hundreds of times.

The sphere imploded, and then continued imploding in the opposite direction, pulling the universe apart as it had just sealed it closed. As quickly as the dimensional rift had formed, it unformed, pushing the starship into space.

Wintrygust had been expecting to end up somewhere near the Crimson Horizon, wherever it was. Instead, the Failure emerged in orbit around a deep blue planet and in close proximity to a satellite- -and a swarm of aggressive alien craft.

“Holy buck!” squeaked Blossomforth.

Wintrygust did not have time to exclaim. She released her control of the helm, just as Sassaflash shot awake. The blue Pegasus surveyed the scene and immediately took control of the helm, diving suddenly to avoid a direct impact with one of the unfolded octahedrons.

As she did, the Failure shuddered and quaked, and then stalled for just a moment.

“I don’t have enough power!” cried Sassaflash, trying to compensate by drawing what little there was from other systems. “There isn’t enough!”

“Then we have to retreat,” said Wintrygust. She turned to her control panel only to see it flicker- -and she realized that there was no longer enough power for the long-range antenna. “HEART!” she cried into the intercom. “Heart! We’ve lost power we- -”

A sudden surge of energy rocked the ship, tearing through the shields in a single shot. Far below, in the basement of the ship, Heart felt the ship rumble and list. She heart Wintrygust through the intercom, and then turned it off, setting it instead to a delicate classical song.

“Winter wrap up winter wrap up,” she sung to herself as she sauntered to the part of the engine where the Core was housed. She paused and looked up at the tank. Inside, the Core was floating in liquid, a thin and flickering blue light emanating from her as she charged the ship.

This Core was named Trixie. That meant little to Lemon Heart. Every Core had a name. She had known the name of every Core she had ever seen, and the name of every one she had ever created. This one was unique only in its abject weakness and in its unusual tenacity. Even know, on the verge of death, she was clinging to life to power the ship.

Her surgical scars were still fresh, and they were starting to open as her body began to tear itself apart. That was not what Heart focused her attention on, though. Instead, her eyes stared unblinkingly at a mechanical assembly built around the Core’s neck.

She smiled. “I’m not going to die here, Trixie. I refuse to.”

Heart opened a holographic panel and activated the assembly on Trixie’s neck. The locking mechanisms responded to her magic, twisting and unlocking the sealed case around the Core’s neck. Then it opened, revealing the contents: a triangular amulet, decorated with a unicorn busts and a pair of stylized wings- -and containing a large blood-red gemstone.

The reaction was immediate. The Core’s eyes opened and her mouth stretched into a silent scream as red energy suddenly poured from her body into the main reactor. Lemon Heart burst into laughter. For nearly a century she had possessed this amulet, and for nearly a century she had wanted to test it. Now she had her chance, and it performed better than she had ever expected. Power output was increasing by over five thousand fold.

On the bridge, the ship suddenly shot forward at FTL speed. Even Sassaflash was barely able to bring it under control, and her attempt to maneuver it back into position sent every pony that was not strapped down flying across the bridge.

“Detecting damage to internal superstructure!” cried Blossomforth. “Sassa, what the BUCK are you doing?!”

“I don’t- -I don’t know!”

This increase in power only seemed to attract the other ships, and Sassflash froze. She had not yet adapted to the controls, and as far as she knew attempting to fly could tear the ship apart. She was not sure what to do.

A red-colored control hologram suddenly appeared at Wintrygust’s side. “Weapons!” she exclaimed, pulling the hologram in front of her and activating them. Outside, the tractor beams normally used to maneuver probes into place or to retrieve samples erupted in red energy. With a quick and precise barrage, Wintrygust had obliterated the first five enemy ships that had approached. Their comrades turned away, looping around and taking just long enough for Sassaflash to get control of the ship and tilt it back into an evasion pattern.

By now, the only pony not strapped down was Pinkie, and she slid across the deck. Wintrygust ignored her, and instead focused on the changing horizon, targeting the ship’s newfound weapons.

“They’re unmared,” she said, reminding herself of something she could not possibly know. “There’s nopony on them. There’s nopony on them.”

She fired again and again, and the ship slowly began to clear a path toward the origin of Xyuka’s signal. “Don’t worry, Scootaloo,” whispered Wintrygust as she tore through another set of enemy craft. “I’m coming…”

Scootaloo was unceremoniously dumped onto the satellite’s deck. She coughed and sputtered, trying to clear the acrid gas from her lungs. The world was swimming, and she could barely see, let alone move straight. Her head hurt horribly, but she was at least partially aware that she needed to escape.

Something else clattered to the ground next to her. Through her slightly uneven vision, Scootaloo saw a flat mask skitter across the smooth floor. It had already erupted with a sickly, stinking green fluid that was rapidly corroding its front surface, although it was apparent that the back end, though dented, had remained intact.

“I hate corrosive ammunition,” said a voice. Scootaloo’s head reeled as a surreal sensation washed over her. It was a voice she recognized from two separate places. One of them was Xyuka’s voice, or rather the voice that existed beneath the heavy distortion that was supposed to accompany it. The other source, Scootaloo did not know.

Weakly, Scootaloo turned over and looked up Xyuka. She was expecting an attack that she would be at best able to crawl away from, but instead, Xyuka was just staring at her. Scootaloo found herself looking into a pair of large violet eyes set against a pale orange coat.

Then Scootaloo suddenly realized where she had heard that voice before. Her eyes widened, and the word suddenly came into focus. “No,” she said, “that’s not- -that’s not- -”

“Possible?” said Xyuka. She flicked her head, and the remaining armor that covered the back of her head retracted, revealing a short-cut violet mane. “Of course it is. I’m here, aren’t I?”

Scootaloo stood up and tried to back away, only to collapse.

“You have a concussion,” said Xyuka. “In addition to possible toxicity from the Voqutan atmosphere. In all honesty, I did not anticipate that the human would actually be able to bridge the gap so easily. It took a nontrivial amount of energy to pull us both back despite the simplicity of the proposition. You should be thanking me.”

“You’re- -you’re me!” cried Scootaloo.

Xyuka sighed. “No. I’m not ‘you’. I am Scootaloo, but not ‘you’. That would be ridiculous.”

“Then you’re…” Scootaloo looked around. She could not see Bob or Seven. “You’re like them…”

Xyuka’s fiery violet eyes narrowed. “No,” she said. “Are you really that limited? To think that I would be a simple CLONE?” She started to walk closer to Scootaloo. Her armored hooves clicked on the ground, and as she drew nearer Scootaloo could see the surgical scars on her head and beneath her hair.

“Stay away!” said Scootaloo, forcing herself to stand and taking a wobbly defensive position. “I don’t know- -I don’t know what you are, but if you get any closer, I’ll- -”

“You’ll what? Shoot me again with this?” One of Xyuka’s metal tendrils flicked forward. Its terminal end was wrapped around the trigger and handle of Bob’s gun, and she was pointing it at Scootaloo. “I don’t know if you would survive another blow like that to the head. I’m surprised you kept your teeth.”

Scootaloo held her ground. “So, what?” she asked. “Are you going to kill me now?”

“Kill you?” Xyuka sighed. “Perhaps I overestimated your capacity. When have I ever tried to kill you?”

“Since the first time you saw me!”

“NO. If I had wanted you dead, do you think it would have been hard? This suit has at least thirty seven weapons that could wipe out the population of a small city. I could have obliterated you at any time with a thought.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I don’t actually want you dead. At least not that way. I needed to know what kind of a Scootaloo you are. If any of the minor obstacles I presented you with had killed you, then nothing of value would have been lost.”

“You’re insane!”

“Am I? Do you think you’re the first Scootaloo I’ve met? I’ve met hundreds. Some have been kind. Some have been cruel, evil. I have killed a great many of both. There is always a Scootaloo. Always.”

Outside, the battle continued. Oriana turned around as she ran, firing several biotic bolts into the charging enemies. The blasts coated their bodies, lifting them off the ground and beginning to corrode their skin. More replaced them, though, marching onward with no regard to the possible danger. Never before had Oriana wished so much that she had brought a gun.

Assault rifle fire ignited in the hall as Nine took aim, opening fire on the horde on the other side. She unloaded in the nearest two as she retreated, and then projected a biotic shield as she expelled the thermal clip from her rifle.

“Reloading,” she said. “Six, cover me!”

“Got it,” said Six, taking a position beside her and slamming her own magic into the oncoming monstrosities in order to clear a path.

There was a sudden small explosion, and Eight appeared in the center of the group.

“Eight!” said Nine. “Where is mother?”

“Back on the ship,” said Eight, her expression as serious as her tone. “Seven’s down. So is Four. It’s bad. We’re evacuating. Now.”

“What about Scootaloo?” asked Six.

“We’ve already lost her,” said Eight.

“No,” said Six. “No, we can’t- -”

“If we don’t hurry, we’ll lose each other too,” said Nine. “Eight, port us out!”

“Right.”

Eight began to charge her teleportation. As she did, Oriana suddenly saw an especially large creature approaching. The others seemed to clear out of its way, and as it approached Oriana realized that there was a large spiral horn emerging from the center of its head.

She charged her biotic energy, but the creature fired first. A bolt of orange energy hit her directly in the chest. The pain was intense as every nerve in Oriana’s body suddenly back fed into her brain, and she collapsed into convulsions just as Eight’s teleportation sequence engaged. Space distorted, and she found herself falling onto the docking bay floor back on the 192.

“Miss Oriana!” said Eight.

“I’m fine,” said Oriana, rubbing her head. A terrible headache was already forming, but the world suddenly seemed much clearer than it had before. Oriana attributed it to the adrenaline of nearly being killed.

She stood up and pushed past the ponies into the main hallway outside. Almost as soon as she emerged, she was shoved to the side as Bob passed. Oriana gasped when she saw Bob: one of the older woman’s arms was missing, and her armor was covered in what Oriana assumed was her own blood.

More terrifying, though, was the expression on her face. Oriana had worked with Bob for years, but had never seen her look like that before. Immediately, she knew that something was wrong- -and that Bob was about to do something very, very stupid.

“Robette,” she said.

“Don’t FUCKING talk to me right now, filthy human, or I WILL pull your eyes out and sodomize you with them,” spat Bob.

Oriana took a step back. Such a threat would probably seem ridiculous coming from literally any other Cerberus agent, but Bob was known to mutilate her victims before cannibalizing them. What she was suggesting was a very real possibility, and with the way she said it, Oriana knew that she meant it.

Still, she followed Bob through the ship. Despite clearly having lost a significant amount of blood, Bob was still moving quickly, and Oriana nearly had to jog to keep up. Eventually, Bob entered the engine room.

“Robette,” said Oriana again. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Bob stopped, but did not address Oriana. Instead, she looked up at the tall creature that stood in her path. “They hurt my daughters,” she said. “I am going to make them pay. My Seven, my Four- -they will suffer. Are you going to stop me, Bjorn?”

Bjorn looked down at her. “No,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing toward the ship’s core. “I would not dream of it, as my Masters can always use another condemned soul.”

“I don’t have a soul,” said Bob, stepping up to the field that contained the ever-shifting relic of technology in suspension.

Oriana suddenly realized what she was going to do. She rushed forward, but it was already too late. Bob plunged her hand into the field and grasped the machine- -and it grasped back.

Wintrygust continued to fire volley after volley of magical energy into the oncoming fleet, but she was quickly becoming overwhelmed. Not only were there too many, but they seemed to be adapting to the onslaught, their shields and armor becoming thicker and more durable in response to the repeated impacts.

Then she saw it. Emerging from the planet’s horizon, a member of the fleet that was different from the others. It was large, black, and shaped like some kind of arthropod. Wintrygust felt a chill when she saw it.

“Welp,” said Pinkie. “It was nice knowing you all. And laying millions upon millions of eggs in your living space.”

Wintrygust opened fire, but to no avail. The magical beams did nothing to the slowly approaching ship. Sassaflash took evasive action as it returned fire, barely dodging its first projectile as the ship took a heavy blow from a second.

“Direct hit!” said Blossomforth. “I’m trying to compensate- -”

The smaller members of the fleet responded like a group of predators smelling blood. Wintrygust tried to manipulate the weapons toward them, but she could not get the angle right as they charged toward the hole in the wounded vessel.

Then, in the distance, she saw a ship. Not large and black, or small and angular.

“No way,” said Blossomforth. “No bucking way…”

Before Wintygust could even ask what she meant, the unknown ship erupted with a plume of deep blue energy. The shockwave spread out through space, propagating through some unseen aether- -and then splitting. It fragmented into long arcs of energy that sliced through space, striking each and every one of the fleet. They were not damaged, and they did not detonate. They simply collapsed into dust, silently falling to the gravity of the planet below.

Several of the beams converged on the largest of the ships. It seemed to shift, as though it were in pain, and then it imploded from within, disintegrating around a pitch-black singularity.

On the satellite, Xyuka’s eyes suddenly widened. She screamed in pain as the back of her armor erupted in a plume of blue energy. She was overloading, burning from within. In an instant she knew that she had lost her fleet- -and her primary communication relay.

Xyuka fell to her knees before Scootaloo.

“What- -what just happened?” asked Scootaloo. Xyuka smiled. She sounded genuinely concerned.

“Soy-chet,” she whispered. “I can’t…I can’t hear you anymore…”

In the engine room of the Failure, Heart whistled as she pulled the emergency Core release lever. The amniotic fluid that contained Trixie rushed out of the tube, and the bottom lowered. The moribund Core spilled onto the floor. At first, she did not move. Then she stirred just slightly.

“Still alive?” said Heart. “Wow. That would be impressive if you could keep it up. But…”

She had just received word that the battle was over. The enemy had been defeated, and in just the nick of time. Heart was not sure what Wintrygust was doing, but she had been using almost all of Trixie’s enhanced output. The effect had been impressive. The amplified magic had also amplified the damage that Trixie had experienced, and it appeared that she was in the process of hemorrhaging. Every one of her orifices was bleeding, and even her still-smoking Core implants were starting to dislocate from her dissolving tissues.

Heart rolled Trixie over and removed the Alicorn Amulet from her with a pair of tongs. It appeared entirely undamaged, indicating that the test had been a resounding success.

“Scoot…Scootaloo…” whispered Trixie.

“Nope,” said Heart, cheerfully. “You won’t be seeing her. Because you’re dead now. You just don’t know it yet.” Heart reached down with her magic and began yanking the cords and cables connected to Trixie’s spine free. The process was normally quite painful, but Trixie only whimpered.

“Oh come on,” said Heart. “Don’t be like that. Think of how much knowledge I can gain from you! If every Core was as tenacious, as persistent as you- -I mean, imagine if you had actually been powerful! Maybe they knew that when they picked you. Because otherwise, you’re just an ordinary unicorn.”

Heart pulled out the last of the connections along with a deep portion of the implant port connected to it. The ship’s power fluctuated, but there was enough in storage to last until a new Core could be shipped out. Assuming the Princess did not send an actual ship, of course.

“There we go,” said Heart, pulling Trixie along the floor with her magic. “To the airlock with you…”

Then, suddenly, Heart felt a sharp pain in her neck. That was curious. Even more curious was how she suddenly lost feeling in her entire body and collapsed onto the floor next to the now mostly dead Core.

“What…what just…”

Her question was answered when the pain returned, and the magically-generated knife came into view. Heart knew enough about anatomy to realize what had just happened. Somepony had severed her spine.

That somepony quickly came into view- -and she was not a pony at all. She stood on too legs, her robes and yellow-red striped hair trailing behind her as she approached Trixie. Her surface appeared strange: it was shifting and translucent, as if she was not completely there.

The human kneeled down and gently lifted the Core into her arms.

“Scootaloo…” whispered Trixie.

“Shh,” said the human, gently. “Quiet, little one. I will help you. Xyuka has failed me. But you will not.”

She stood erect, and then there was a distortion of light as she vanished, taking Trixie with her.

Heart stared up, wondering if the sensation she felt was fear. She eventually came to the conclusion that it was not just fear, but abject terror. Even with whatever that thing had been only partially existing near her, it had felt horrible, producing a sensation that was the magical equivalent of staring into a well filled with bloated, rotting corpses- -that just might be trying to claw their way out.

Almost as soon as the creature left, the door to the room slid open.

“What’s this?” said Pinkie, entering and smiling. “Lying down on the job? Tsk tsk tsk. Oh. No wait, you’re paralyzed.” She giggled. “Well, at least you’re not apple-ized. Because, you know, ‘pear-alized’? Get it?”

Heart looked up at the clingon, and realized that she was right. There was no way to effectively repair spinal damage with Equestrian technology. She would be a permenant quadrapalegic. As she contemplated this, her eyes fell onto the empty Core housing, and then on her tools.

An idea occurred to Heart. A brilliant, amazing, impossible idea. She smiled- -and then burst into laughter. Pinkie laughed too, but as Heart’s chortiling became increasingly manic the clingon began to look nervous and took a step back.

“It wasn’t that funny,” she said.

“PINKIE!” shouted Heart, causing the pink non-pony to jump. “This is perfect! Absolutely perfect! Why didn’t I see it before?! It’s what I’ve been waiting for! My whole life! Staring me in the face!” She looked over at the tools. “But I can’t move. I need your help.”

“Help? How?”

“Do you see that bone saw? Bring it over to me.”

“Bone saw?” Pinkie looked nervous, but then smiled. “Are we going to make the cupcakes?”

“Yes, Pinkie. We are going to make cupcakes. The very bestest of cupcakes…”

Chapter 23: The Damage

The headache ignited again, and Oriana rubbed her forehead. She did not normally develop headaches easily; after all, her genome had been designed to be as perfect as possible to allow her both to resist normal illness and the effects of prolonged use of her biotics.

Ultimately, though, she did as she had been trained and suppressed the pain. She was lucky to have gotten out without much worse. The mission had been a colossal failure, but as far as she could tell, it was not the fault of any particular member of the cell. Even Bob had performed her job well, or as well as a nearly rogue semi-human mutant could. There was no way they could have predicted that they would be attacked.

As unexpected as the assault had been, it was no excuse for the cost it had extracted from them. Oriana peered through a large transparent window at what functioned as the ship’s medical bay. Inside, Eight and Six were attending Four and Seven. Eight, like Oriana, had received Cerberus field medic training. Six, however, had on her own volition sought out a much more substantial education, to the point where she had repeatedly been scouted by the Cerberus research decision for her talents. The fact that she was assisting Eight was a bad sign.

Through the glass, Oriana could see Seven and Eight. Seven appeared conscious. Her mask had been removed, and her eyes were open. Oriana realized that it was the first time she had seen the pony without her mask. She was not sure what she had been expecting, but Seven actually looked nearly identical to her sisters. Her mouth was slightly wider and her teeth longer, and her eyes faced different directions, but otherwise she looked normal. Though her visage itself was not frightening, the fact that she did not make an attempt to obscure it was. Before Eight gave her back her mask, Seven just stared at the ceiling, knowing full well that Oriana could see her.

Across the room sat a second bed. There, Four lay completely motionless. Her pony body looked so tiny against the machinery that was now linked to it. Numerous tubes lead into her arms and legs, feeding her a constant IV drip of various drugs and a transfusion of blood donated by her clone sisters. Her body was almost completely covered in wires and sensors, all linking her to the complex assortment of machinery that measured her tenuous vital signs. Unlike Seven, she was not conscious. Her eyes were closed and her hair brushed aside to prevent it from interfering with the transparent mask that covered her mouth and nose. Four was normally more gray than purple, but Oriana had never seen her this ashen.

Six finished up her readings, and, noticing Oriana, approached the door. It hissed as it opened and Six emerged into the hallway. She looked up at Oriana, and from the look on her face, Oriana knew the situation was grave.

“How bad is it?” asked Oriana.

Six looked through the window at Eight, who was still helping Seven. “Seven was exposed to what I can only imagine was a feedback weapon of some sort. Most likely, it will have a permanent negative consequence on her biotics. Her spine has also been severed between T9 and T10. The lower half of her body is completely paralyzed.”

Oriana did not know what to say. “I’m sorry,” was all she could manage.

Six shook her head. “She will recover. Of all of us, she is the one who uses her biotics the least. And repairing the spine is possible. It will simply require strategic administration of medigel onto the damaged nerves.”

“That operation is both incredibly difficult and incredibly painful.”

“I can perform the surgery, and Seven can withstand the pain.”

Oriana nodded. She did not know if Six was expressing wishful thinking, or if a spinal reconnection was something she actually wanted to attempt on her own sister. From the look on Six’s face, though, it appeared that the latter was most likely the case.

“And Four?” she asked. “What the hell happened to her? She wasn’t even on the station!”

“The enemy boarded us. Four attempted to defend Marc Antony using her biotics.”

“Biotics? I’ve only ever seen Four use her biotics for interface projection. I didn’t even know she could use them in combat.”

“She can’t. Or at least, she shouldn’t.” Six sighed. “She isn’t like us, the second batch. What Cerberus did to her…her insides are ruined. Scar tissue, barely functional organs- -she’s sick. She always has been. Why do you think she spends so much time with Marc Antony? He takes care of her. Helps her with her medicine, keeps her safe. He was supposed to keep her safe…”

“You blame him for this.”

Six paused for a long moment. “No. I understand the situation. But I should have been there. WE should have been there. Four is our Big Sister. She helped raise us…and now…”

“She will make it, Six. She’ll be okay.”

“I wish I could be so sure,” said Six, darkly. “She’s in critical condition, and stable for now- -but she could go either way. Ironic, isn’t it: what you or I could do without a thought sent her into hemorrhagic shock…” Six trailed off, and Oriana thought she saw the pony wipe a tear from her face. “Seven, Four, my sisters…and poor Scootaloo, my friend, lost…”

“Not to mention mother,” said Nine, emerging from behind them.

Six looked up at her sister, simultaneously happy to see her and looking even more exhausted than before. “You didn’t manage to get her out?”

“Get her out?” said Oriana. “Of where?”

“She’s lodged herself somewhere beneath the deck plating. I cannot extricate her.” Nine looked at Six. “She’s lost an arm, Six.”

“Damn,” said Six. “That explains why she’s hiding. She doesn’t want us to see her like that.”

“No,” said Nine, shaking her head. “That’s not the reason at all. It’s not that she can’t bear us to look at her, but that she can’t bear to look at us.”

“I don’t understand,” said Oriana.

“It is her nature, as our mother.” Nine reared onto her hind legs and put her hooves against the glass of the window. Her eyes drifted from Seven to Four. “How could she?”

“She might be injured worse than just the arm, too,” said Oriana.

“What? How?” demanded Six.

“She attempted to interface with the relic.”

Six’s eyes widened. “And she survived? No wonder she’s hiding. That device was not meant to be handled by mortals. Even Bjorn barely comprehends its nature- -she likely burnt out half her nervous system! Not to mention long term effects- -why?” Six looked directly into Oriana’s eyes. “Why would she do that?”

“You know why,” said Nine, solemnly.

Six seemed to take that as an adequate answer, and nodded. She began to walk away before suddenly turning back to Oriana. “I nearly forgot. You were struck with a biotic impact. I want to examine you for injury.”

“No,” said Oriana. “Don’t waste time on me. Take care of Seven and Four.”

“But the injury- -”

“There is no injury. Whatever they hit me with, either my armor absorbed it or they never completed the action. I’m fine.”

Six seemed to reluctantly take her word for it, and she stared into the room for a long moment before walking off with Nine silently following at her side. Oriana herself watched for a minute or two longer, and then turned away herself.

While she walked through the ship, Oriana reconsidered the roles of the people that she had worked with for years but never really become close to. She had always assumed that Bob was a manipulative and heartless harpy, and that Marc Antony was some kind of pervert. Now she saw that the synth was actually devoting a significant amount of his time to a pony woman who he clearly cared deeply about. Oriana’s opinion of Bob had changed slightly as well, but she did not want to articulate or even identify how she now felt. She was smarter than that, and had been told explicitly during training to never let Bob get into her head.

As she was walking and considering these various thoughts, Oriana suddenly looked up to see a figure cross quickly into a perpendicular hallway.

She slowed and stopped walking. “Bob?” she said.

There was no answer, even though Oriana knew that there was no one else it could have been apart from Bob or Marc Antony. The figure had definitely been human; it was neither Bjorn nor a pony. Somehow, though, Oriana felt herself growing cold. Something about the figure had not looked quite right.

She approached the parallel hallway slowly. From what she had seen, the figure was not Marc Antony. She had been female- -but certain impossible features of her kept surfacing into Oriana’s mind. Her hair was black, but straight, not at all curly and greasy like Bob’s. Likewise, whereas Bob almost always wore Cerberus armor or at most a Cerberus T-shirt, the woman Oriana had thought she had seen had obviously fully dressed in a skin tight black and white uniform.

As Oriana drew closer, she thought she could hear footsteps. They were not the heavy thud of combat boots or the clicking of hooves; nor where they the quiet padding of Bob’s bare feet. They like the click of high-heeled shoes- -and the sound was growing closer, not more distant.

Oriana jumped around the corner, charging her fists with biotic energy. She had not known what to expect- -but all that faced her was an empty dead-end hallway.

Chapter 24: The Princess’s Story

There was a clink of metal as Zedok put down a bloody scalpel onto an aluminum tray and picked up a pair of fine pliers. She hesitated, and then leaned forward to Starlight.

“How is it now?” she said, adjusting her work slightly.

“Grainy,” said Starlight. “And I can’t see color.”

“Yeah,” said Zedok. “That’s just how it is. I can’t do anything about it.”

“You can’t? Is this…how you see the world?”

Zedok did not answer, but set down the pliers. She picked up a small handheld mirror and gave it to Starlight. Starlight took it in her magic and held in in front of her face.

The gray mechanical irises of her new eyes narrowed her pupils as she focused, and she felt as the robotic mechanisms inside them flicked them from side to side as she looked them over. The motion was much faster than the muscles that had once motivated them, and the machines had a physical sensation.

“I’m sorry,” said Zedok. “I did the best I could do, but…”

“It’s fine,” said Starlight, setting down the mirror near Zedok’s tools. Even though the mostly colorlessness of her vision, she could see the blood stains. In one small container, she saw the bloody remnants of her ruined original eyes staring back up at her. Starlight shivered. That was not a sight that anybody was ever meant to see.

“Hey,” said Starlight, “now that we both have artificial eyes, people are going to think we’re twins.”

Zedok smiled. “Twins? No, people are going to think you’re my mother. Because you’re old.”

Starlight chuckled. She actually was nearly ten years older than Zedok, but had never really thought about it that way.

“When we get back to our own galaxy, I can get you some colored irises like mine,” explained Zedok. “I think you would look good with a nice green…”

Across the room, there was a sound of a hoof knocking on the doorframe. Starlight’s eyes moved toward the gap with nauseating speed, and she felt them focus on Sunburst. Their eyes met, and she saw his widen.

“Sweet Cadence,” he said. “Starlight, your eyes…”

“Yeah,” said Starlight, averting them in shame. “Guess I shouldn’t have taken my immense beauty for granted, huh?”

“What- -no, Starlight, that’s not what I meant!” Sunburst trotted into the room and approached Starlight. He gently touched her chin, and she allowed her face to be directed toward him. “I didn’t mean that at all! It’s just…your eyes. I’m so sorry…”

“It’s not like I actually lost anything. It’s not like I need eyes for spaceflight. I have sensor arrays for that.”

“But…” Sunburst shook his head. “Did it hurt?”

“The neural connections were burnt,” said Zedok. “I had to completely reconfigure them. I’m pretty sure there was no pain.”

“No,” said Starlight. “There was.”

“There- -there was? Star, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why? It’s just pain. I’m used to it by now.”

Starlight’s eyes suddenly moved toward the door again, and Sunburst jerked back at the sight of her mechanical irises shifting around the lenses and semiconductors that now allowed her to see. That was what hurt most of all, that he was afraid of her now. It made Starlight want to cry, and she would have- -if she still had possessed tear ducts.

Acorss the room, Flurry Heart was poking her head past the edge. When she saw that Starlight was looking at her, she began to retreat slowly.

“Flurry Heart,” said Sunburst. “Come in here.”

Flurry Heart, despite outranking him, agreed. She slowly walked into the room, her head held high but her expression indicating anything but pride. The filly looked up at Starlight. “So you are not permanently blind. Good.” She turned to Sunburst. “I have reports to file. I will be leaving now.”

“No, you won’t.” Sunburst picked her up with his magic and turned her around to face Starlight. “Is that really all you have to say?”

Flurry Heart frowned. “What do you expect me to say? She entered the battle knowing the risks. And she is not even dead. Everything turned out acceptably.”

“Acceptably? Flurry Heart, she lost her eyes! And this isn’t some kind of collateral damage- -this is a direct result of YOUR failure.”

“Failure?” cried Flurry Heart. “I was only trying to protect the Imperium!”

“No, you were showing off. Your arrogance pulled me, Starlight, and yourself out of battle. I told you to retreat, to protect the planets. Do you know how many ponies we lost? Civilians. Not soldiers. Not warriors. The aliens took them. And without my support, we lost sixteen pilots. SIXTEEN. Ponies I trained, that I watched grow up. Our FRIENDS.”

“The loss was acceptable.”

The room fell silent. Zedok actively backed away from the unfolding argument. Starlight understood the feeling.

“Acceptable?” whispered Sunburst. He took a step forward and Flurry Heart took one back. Sunburst raised one of his hooves, and Flurry Heart suddenly coward from him.

“Sunburst!” said Starlight. “Don’t!”

Sunburst looked over his shoulder, and then lowered his shaking hoof. He turned back to Flurry Heart. “And what if Starlight hadn’t been there? I wouldn’t have been powerful enough to pull you out. What if we lost you? Would that loss be ‘acceptable’?”

“I am an alicorn. I am immortal.”

“No. Only your mother and the Two Sisters are truly immortal. If starlight had not pulled you out of that star, you would have died.” He paused. “Perhaps I was right. I should have made my case better. I should have been more insistent.”

“Insistent? What are you talking about?”

“That you should not be an active military unit. I tried to convince Princess Cadence. That I shouldn’t train you. I still accepted, though. And after your actions, I am considering ending my tenure as your teacher.”

Flurry Heart’s eyes widened, and Starlight saw the tears welling up in her eyes as she shifted to anger. “You- -you want them to seal me up in the Central Palace,” she said. “To isolate me! To lock me away!”

“That isn’t what I said.”

“No. It is EXACTLY what you said. And I say FINE. I’ll write my resignation letter.” She glared at Starlight. “Enjoy my replacement.”

Before anyone could say anything, Flurry Heart spread her oversized wings and flew out of the room.

“Sunburst,” said Starlight. “Don’t you think that was a little harsh?”

“No,” he said. “Not at all.”

“She was crying,” said Zedok. “Star, how old was that kid?”

“Not old enough for this,” said Sunburst.

“I should talk to her,” said Starlight, standing.

“What are you going to say?” asked Zedok.

“I don’t know. I don’t know how to deal with kids.” Starlight sighed. “I wish your father where here. He’d know what to say.” Starlight began to walk toward the door, and Sunburst followed her. “I’ll catch up with you later, Zedok.”

“Yeah,” said Zedok. “If those eyes give you any problems, find me.”

“I will.” Starlight exited the room and saw Jack leaning on the wall outside. She felt overjoyed to see her friend waiting for her- -until she saw the long hair and the ornate dress.

“Chrysalis,” said Starlight. “What do you want?”

“To suck the universe dry of its love, largely,” she sighed. “But what I want in this world no longer matters, does it? The Princess would like to see you.”

“Now?” said Starlight. “Why?”

“I don’t ask why. You should not either. Just come with me.”

Starlight looked to Sunburst, and he nodded.

Chrysalis stopped before she reached the door to the throne room. “This is as far as I go,” she said. “And as far as he goes.”

“Why?”

“There’s that asking things again. The Princess wants you. Not me. Not him.” She grinned, revealing the long fangs that she usually kept hidden. “Don’t worry. I’ll take excellent care of him.”

“It’s okay, Starlight,” said Sunburst. “I’ll be waiting right here for you. You can trust the Princess. Her heart may be cast of crystal, but it is still warm. She’s a good pony.”

“Yeah, right,” muttered Starlight.

Chrysalis pushed open the door, and Starlight stepped through. As it closed, Starlight looked back, and just before the door shut thought that she saw her own face staring back at her from beside Sunburst.

Starlight hoped that it was just her imagination and directed her attention toward the room before her. Unlike before, Cadence was no longer sitting high on her throne. Instead, she stood in the center of the floor beside her husband. He was dressed differently than before, and the high collar of his ornate robes mostly concealed an extensive bandage around his neck. He looked pale and broken.

They were not alone, though. Standing beside Shining armor was a translucent, partially abstract hologram of a violet colored alicorn.

“Hello, Starlight,” said Twilight. “It is good to see you again.”

“I can’t say the same,” said Starlight, darkly. She turned to address Cadence. “Whatever you’re planning, I don’t want to take part in it. Not with HER.”

“I see you’ve met,” said Cadence without even the slightest hint of emotion.

“Yes, we have,” said Starlight. “In the Serpent Nebula.”

“Starlight, you have to understand. I was not in command of myself- -A”

“Oh? Were you in command of yourself when you attempted to enslave me?”

Twilight did not seem to have an answer. Despite having only a partially rendered face, Starlight saw her expression change. Not into one of anger, though, as Starlight expected. She just looked ashamed.

“Twilight is my sister,” rasped Shining Armor. “She has a right to be here.”

“Don’t talk, Shining,” said Twilight. “You should be in bed, resting.”

“I’m fine. Besides. How could I rest? Several of my sons were critically injured or killed, and my wife assaulted. I nearly lost my daughter…”

“Flurry Heart? What- -what happened to Flurry Heart?”

“Fortunately, little,” said Cadence. “Thanks to the quick thinking and sacrifice made by Starlight Glimmer. For this,” she turned to Starlight, “I thank you, and I offer you my eternal gratitude.”

“I couldn’t just let her die,” said Starlight.

“Couldn’t you? The choice was yours alone, and your bravery continues to surprise me. Perhaps someday, you will rival Sunburst at my side. But that time is in the future. Now, I would like you to be a part of this conversation.”

“What conversation?”

“The attack,” said Twilight. “The forces of my newest priestess indicate that a hostile force used an Equestrian Core to conduct it.”

“No,” said Cadence, gently stroking Shining Armor’s mane. “There were no forces. It was her. The Core herself.”

“The Core?” said Twilight. “That’s impossible. They can’t- -”

“Move on their own?” said Starlight.

“She was not an ordinary Core,” said Cadence, shaking her head. “And not in an ordinary state. She is no longer a pony.” Cadence’s cold red eyes met Starlight’s. “I’m sure you felt it.”

Starlight nodded. “That feeling…like I was choking on its magic.”

“Whatever she has become, it is no longer entirely mortal. But the attack was not orchestrated by others. It was her, and her alone.”

“But the ships,” said Starlight.

“Unmared,” said Shining Armor. “Not even Cores. We assume she was flying them remotely.”

“But why?” said Twilight. “She could not seriously have thought she could conquer the Crystal Empire, not alone.”

“Why not?” said Starlight. “From what I hear, your society spent thousands of years just trying to breach the outer edge. And she made it all the way to the Imperium.”

“Conquest was not her goal, I’m afraid,” said Cadence. With her magic, she removed her crown. For the first time, Starlight noticed that the gemstone that was normally imbedded in its center was missing. “She was after something far more significant.”

“I don’t understand,” said Twilight.

“Neither do I,” said Starlight. “The crystal. What was it?”

“Crystal? What crystal? Starlight, the entire kingdom is crystal. I doubt one would be of any special significance.”

“Then you are woefully incorrect,” said Cadence.

“What was it?” repeated Starlight.

Cadence sighed. She almost seemed tired. “It was a device. An item called the Key of Korviliath.”

“A relic?” said Twilight. She seemed almost disappointed. “Why would she be interested in an artifact?”

Cadence paused for a long moment. “Twilight, Starlight. Are you aware of the legend of Starswirl the Bearded?”

“No,” said Starlight.

Twilight’s face seemed to light up. “Yes! Of course! He was the most brilliant mage and engineer in Equestrian history! His revolutionary ideas made modern faster-than-light space travel possible! Not to mention creating the ingenious methods for atmospheric containment within a- -”

“You mean he created Cores,” said Starlight, darkly. “The one who enslaved my people?”

Cadence nodded. “Yes…and no. He created the first of the Cores, but for it, he was haunted by the most profound of regrets for the remainder of his life.”

“What?” said Twilight. “No, that’s not right. I’ve studied every account of history. Starswirl was treated as a hero. He became the personal attendant of Celestia, opening up her role in Equestrian society. Nopony ever indicated that he felt any regret for revolutionizing and vastly improving Equestria.”

“But he did.”

“And how would you know?”

“Because I was there. Not just there. I was one of his closest friends.”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “You- -you KNEW Starswirl the Bearded?”

Cadence nodded. “Yes. Five thousand years ago. When I was still mortal, and known as the mage Sombra.”

Now it was Shining Armor’s turn to look surprised. “You- -no. That can’t be right, Sombra was- -”

“He was me,” admitted Cadence. She looked sadly toward Shining Armor. “I’m sorry I did not tell you. I just thought- -”

He hugged her. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Cadence.”

“Shining…”

“And what, exactly, does this have to do with the Key?” asked Starlight. She was beginning to feel impatient.

Cadence released Shining Armor and continued her story. “Back then, Cores were not like they are today. No doubt their original ships have been destroyed to hide this fact. Then, they were volunteers. Mages and wizards of immense power. They were not trapped and sealed as they are now, but free commanders of their own vessels. Much as you are now, Starlight Glimmer.”

“But then why aren’t they like that now?”

“Because such a ship is almost impossible to operate. It requires a powerful, experienced user. A master sorcerer willing to undergo a dangerous and painful surgical conversion. Needless to say, others quickly found a way to undercut the monopoly of wizards on their ships. They found that faster, cheaper, better ships could be constructed by simply sealing an unconscious pony into the ship and draining their magic until death.

“And you must understand. Starswirl was brilliant. I idolized him. But he was not cold. Not a monster. His heart was kind. And his lifespan too long.”

“He lived long enough to see them make Cores like me…”

Cadence nodded. “And it destroyed him.”

“That…that’s terrible,” said Twilight. “Why…why would they do that?”

“Because they Equestrian,” said Cadence. “It is in their nature.”

“And Starswirl?” said Starlight.

Cadence paused. “What I tell you next, I did not witness with my own eyes. By this time, our relationship had decayed, and Celestia had banished me to what was then an empty galaxy. While I was studying the Crystal Matrix, my former friend grew despondent, depressed. They say that one day he simply left.”

“Left?” said Starlight. “Left to where?”

Cadence shook her head. “Nopony knows. He took his closest disciples and departed Equestria. Nobody knows where he went, or what he intended to accomplish. But I knew him. I knew him very, very well. Surely, he left to atone for his perceived crimes.”

“How?”

“I am not sure. But…I believe he may have been working on creating a system to replace Cores.”

“That might be true,” said Twilight. “At the end of his life, Starswirl was working on a number of projects that he left incomplete. Mysteriously incomplete, in fact. One was the procedure that made me an alicorn.”

“Yes,” said Cadence. “I believe he was working on a transportation device. One that would overcome both the difficulty and rarity of teleportation spells from fickle goddesses, and the suffering of Cores. And…I think he succeeded.”

“That technology would revolutionize Equestria,” said Twilight. “It would- -it would change everything. Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes,” said Cadence. “It happened almost three hundred years ago now. A pony simply appeared at the door to my inner sanctum. No warning, no one having seen him. As if he just appeared out of the mist. He approached me, and as he did, I recognized him. He was old. Impossibly old. There were so many wrinkles, I almost could not identify him, but when I saw his eyes...He was the youngest of Starswirl’s disciples, one that I had met in my mortal life. He was just a colt when I had seen him last.”

“But that would have been over five thousand years,” said Twilight. “No pony can live that long. Even the most powerful historical unicorns cannot exceed a thousand, maybe two.”

“Whatever magic prolonged his life, it departed him shortly after he arrived. But before he left me, he gave me the crystal. The Key of Korviliath. He told me to keep it safe at any cost, that it must never return to its creator. To Starswirl. And I have failed him. The Key is lost, and in the possession of a madmare.”

“It’s not your fault,” said Shining Armor. “If anything, it’s mine. I should have listened.”

“Whoever’s fault it is, it’s too late to change it now,” said Starlight. “Cadence, what does the Key do? What is her endgame?”

“I don’t know,” said Cadence, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I can only imagine that the Key is part of Starswirl’s device, but even what the device actually does…I’m afraid of these facts, I am not aware.”

“If it’s a key, it must open something.”

“But she’s already a Core,” said Twilight. “Why would she want to use an ancient transport system that, from what I can tell, didn’t even work? Unless…”

Twilight’s eyes widened as she suddenly understood what Starlight was already thinking.

“A teleportation system that can move any number of troops anywhere she needs to,” said Starlight. “Regardless of the anti-teleportation field around the Crystal Empire. Or Equestria.”

Cadence nodded. “That is why I asked you to come here, Twilight. I fear for your society. If Sunset Shimmer wishes to do you violence, there will be little to stop her.”

“I’m already changing course,” said Twilight. “I can’t know where she’s going to strike if at all, but I’m commanding the troops back to secure Equestria Prime.”

“That won’t be enough,” said Starlight. “She could strike anywhere in Equestria, not just your homeworld. We need to cut her off before she even gets the chance. At the source.”

“Unfortunately, that information is lost to us,” said Cadence. “I know that Starswirl departed Equestria’s home galaxy, but where he went, it is impossible to know.”

“Fuck,” said Starlight, surprising everyone in the room. “Then she’s already one step ahead, isn’t she? She seems to know where she’s going. There has to be a way to find this thing. Or her.”

“And would you help us in such an endeavor?” asked Cadence. “You have no stake in this.”

“No stake? Like hell I don’t have a stake. I already fought her once. Next time, I intend to win.”

“You would do that for us?” asked Twilight. “Really?”

“Why not? You clearly can’t do it on your own.”

“Right,” said Twilight. She turned to Cadence. “Cadence, I have to go. I’ll reinforce the defenses around Equestria Prime, and I’ll do what research I can to find out where Starswirl went in his self-imposed exile. But I can’t promise anything. If what you say is true…no. It is true. No doubt the old government rewrote the history in their favor. I can’t believe I fell for it…”

“It is not your fault, Twilight. You weren’t even born yet. I can have some of my own scribes search what records I have, but I likewise doubt they will find little. I have few books from that era in my library.”

Twilight nodded, and smiled. “Thank you, Cadence. And you too, Starlight.”

“Just to be clear, this doesn’t mean I like you,” said Starlight. “You stand for everything I hate. You do know that, right?”

“I know…”

The Twilight hologram faded and dissipated. As Cadence watched it leave, she smiled broadly.

“Well played,” she said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you? I’m not a fool. My sister-in-law is not either, but she is young and naïve. You have no real interest in stopping Sunset Shimmer.”

“Then what, pray tell, do I have an interest in?”

“Your own failure when faced by a being that can truly challenge a god? Or the sudden realization of your own weakness?” She looked directly into Starlight’ artificial eyes. “Or a desire for the technology that allows one of your kinds to fight on par with ME?” She turned back to her throne. “Don’t answer. If you answer that question, then you answer my first, concerning my offer. As I’m sure my High Exemplar has made clear. Do what you can. Use whatever resources you need. Make Sunset Shimmer suffer. And if it comes to the point you desire, so be it. Make your decision there. Just know the consequences.”

“I think you already know the answer I will choose.”

“Yes,” said Cadence, taking her seat on her throne. Shining Armor climbed with her, and lay down on the floor at her side. She stroked his head and horn. “The question is, do you?”

Once again, Lyra found herself in a hospital. They had become something that she had simply come to expect: the white light, the quick and hurried motion of nurses, the strange smell of disinfectant. It was the smell that had assaulted her so long ago, when she had first awoken after what she had assumed would be her death. When she had looked down to see that her body was forever lost.

This time, though, she was not ill. She was standing in the hallway, and slowly raised her hand to knock on the door before her. She almost did, closing her metal fingers into a fist and bringing them close to the opaque crystal. Instead, though, she drew her hand back.

Just as she started to turn away, a crystal nurse opened the door. Lyra saw the momentary fright in her eyes, but then saw them soften when the nurse realized that despite her mechanical anthro body, Lyra was still a true pony.

“Are you here to see Calcite?” she said.

“Y…yes,” said Lyra.

“Well, you missed visiting hours by a few minutes, but I think you can go in. I know how busy everyone here is, after the tragedy. I certainly know how busy we are here.”

She held the door open and gestured for Lyra to go in. Lyra was not sure if she wanted to, but still found herself entering anyway.

The room on the other side was not large, and was mostly dominated by a pony-sized bed in the center. Calcite was lying in it with his lower body covered by a sheet. When Lyra stepped in, he looked up at her, surprised.

“Lyra,” he said.

“Is it okay if I come in?”

“Of course! I think there’s a stool… somewhere…”

“I’ll just stand. Pony furniture is too small for me now.”

They both fell silent for what felt like an awkwardly long time.

“So,” said Lyra. “What’s your condition?”

“Compared to a lot of ponies in here? Not bad. Not bad at all. I had a pretty bad concussion, but even though my body is made of crystal, I’m hardly fragile.” He tapped on his head, and it make a clinking sound. “Plus, they say I have some pretty deep wounds in my legs. Shrapnel. Could have fooled me, though. I didn’t feel a thing.” He laughed at his own joke, but then trailed off and became more serious. “Of course, it was almost much worse. If you hadn’t been there.”

“Yeah. Well, I couldn’t just let you get crushed like that. Oh…” Lyra extended one of her hands, presenting a small box to Calcite. “Here. I got you something.”

Calcite’s eyes widened as he took the box. “No way…are those Gummy Sploofs?”

Lyra smiled. “They sure are. And they were NOT easy to find.”

“No way,” he said. “I didn’t know they still made these!” He looked up at Lyra. “As crystal ponies, we don’t need to eat. We normally feed on the energy of the Living Goddess. Back during the war, this was the only candy that the commissaries stocked.” He opened the box and popped one of the gooey candies in his mouth. He chewed it for a moment, and then grimaced and stuck out his tongue. “Sweet Cadence! They taste just as terrible as I remember!”

He laughed, and then Lyra found herself laughing too. This continued for so long that if anypony had been watching, they would have thought both the old soldiers crazy. Eventually, though, their laughter faded, and Calcite wiped an imaginary tear from his crystalline eye.

“Thank you,” he said. “And not just for the candies. And…I’m sorry. About Sweetie Drops.”

Lyra held up a finger to silence him. “No,” she said. “We’re not going into that right now. I loved her once, and now I know she never loved me back. But she loves you. And I’ve moved on. I have a husband back in my own galaxy, and a grown stepdaughter. I love both of them, and they love me.”

“So…we’re good?”

“You and me were good as soon as the war ended. Me and Bon Bon will never be good, but that’s okay.” Lyra paused. “And I probably shouldn’t say it, but you are one hell of a lucky stallion. I know from experience.”

Calcite blushed. “I know. Believe me, I know.”

“How did you even have kids anyway? You’re a crystal pony.”

“The kids? Oh. Two of them are adopted, and little Toffee was born with the help of, well, a donor.”

“Well, however you did it, they are friggin adorable.”

“Thanks. They’re everything to me. They and Sweetie Drops are what make surviving the war worth it.”

Lyra was about to say something when her omnitool suddenly lit up.

“What’s that?”

“A message from my stepdaughter. She’s wondering where I am. We were supposed to get lunch.”

“Go ahead,” said Calcite, waving her away. “I’m fine here. I’ll be leaving by this afternoon as soon as they can fit me for a new wheel brace. I’ve got to eat this entire box of candies anyway, and with Gummy Sploofs, that’s going to take at least two hours.”

“Thank you for talking with me.”

“No problem. Thank YOU for saving me. And my children. I wish I could really have you over for dinner, but…”

“I know,” said Lyra. “I know.”

She waved as she moved toward the door- -only to bump directly into Bon Bon as she was entering.

“Lyra?” said Bon Bon, her eyes narrowing as she righted herself. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting a friend. And now I’m leaving.”

Lyra walked past Bon Bon. “Wait!” she called. Lyra stopped. “I have nothing to say to you, Bon Bon.”

“You saved my husband and my children. Why?”

“Why? Do I even need a reason? Because it was the right thing to do.”

“Thank you.” It almost sounded as though it pained her to say it.

“Just don’t treat Calcite like you treated me, Bon Bon. I loved you once. You have no idea how much I loved you. But I don’t anymore. So this is goodbye.”

Bon Bon said something, but Lyra did not hear it. It was drowned out by the sound of her metal claws clicking on the tile floor below. Not that it mattered anyway. Lyra left Bon Bon behind, and she was finally free.

“So?” asked Starlight, apprehensively. Across from her, Sunburst’s fork clicked against a plate of various vegetables, levitated by his magic. They had just finished dinner at his home which, as far as Starlight could tell, was a small apartment that he had segmented off of a much larger living space that now sat empty.

Sunburst seemed to think for a long moment, then took a sip of whine and looked up answered. “I’m not sure you should have told me, Starlight. If the Princess wanted me to know, she would have told me.”

“What matters is that I wanted you to know,” said Starlight. “You’re probably the smartest pony I know. I want to know your opinion.”

“I am also one of the only ponies you know,” pointed out Sunburst. “But thank you. I’m afraid I can’t help, though. I’ve done my fair share of research, but I’m a soldier. History was never my specialty.”

Starlight sighed. “Just how many galaxies do you think have life in them, Sunburst?”

Sunburst raised an eyebrow. “Probably all of them, at some level. Or at least eighty percent or so. Why do you ask? Surely you can’t expect to search them all.”

“I sure hope not,” said Starlight.

“And there is no guarantee that Starswirl went anywhere with life. In fact, it would make far more sense if he had gone somewhere isolated. He could have built it in orbit around a high-gravity world, or in an asteroid field, or even just in darkspace. Whatever it is, it might not even still exist.”

“Sunset things it still exists,” said Starlight. “And she seems to know more about than anyone else.”

“Can you track her, then?”

“I’ve put Armchair on that, but even then. We would need a deep-space telescope and about four hundred years of searching.”

Sunburst poked at his food a bit more, and then set his fork down. “Starlight, what’s the real reason you’re telling me this?”

“I already told you. I want your help.”

“And what help can I give you? I’m just one stallion.” He paused. “You came to tell me you’re leaving.”

Starlight did not answer at first. Then she nodded. “Yeah,” she said.

Sunburst sighed and stood up. He picked up the plates and carried them over to the sink. Starlight stood as well, helping him.

“So you’ve come to a decision?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I’m only leaving to find Sunset Shimmer.”

“And what? Stop her? From whatever nebulous goal she has? Starlight, you were there. We both were. You can’t stop her. You’ll…” He set his plates down and shook his head. “I don’t know if you’ll come back.”

“And if I don’t? Would you be sad?”

“Starlight…how could you say something like that? Of course I’d be sad. You mean a lot to me. I…no. Never mind. I just care for you a lot.”

“What? What were you going to say?”

“I…” he lowered his head, and then lifted it. He turned himself toward Starlight and looked directly into her cybernetic eyes. “I was going to say that I love you, Starlight.”

Starlight nearly laughed. “You can’t be serious, Sunburst,” she said. “We barely met two days ago.”

“No. We met almost thirty years ago. And I think I loved you then, too.”

“Sunburst, we were kids.”

“I know. I know how this sounds. It’s ridiculous. Which is why I didn’t want to tell you. You’ve only been awake for five years, but I’ve had over two decades of life. That whole time, I couldn’t forget you. I couldn’t stop missing you. I couldn’t stop hating myself because I couldn’t help you.”

Starlight put her hoof on his shoulder. “There wasn’t anything you could do.”

“And there isn’t anything I can do now. I just…” he paused, and wiped one of his eyes. “I have a good life, Starlight. Flurry Heart, the Princess, my friends…is it wrong that I keep thinking about what we could have had? If we had grown up together? All the things we missed?”

“You can’t change the past, Sunburst. Believe me. I wish it were different too.”

“It’s not the past I’m worried about. I finally have you back, and now you’re going to leave. I know its selfish, but…for the past few days, I’ve been thinking. About what we could be. Together. We’re not children anymore, but I thought we could finally have a chance at that life. It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid.” Starlight hugged him. “I want that life too. More than anything. But I have to do this. Why don’t you come with me? We can face this together.”

Sunburst hugged her back. “No. I can’t. I have to stay here. They need me. This might be the last time together, Starlight.”

Starlight looked up at him. She could feel her pupils dilated to their maximum width, and she knew that she was blushing. “And?”

“And what?”

Starlight answered by kissing him. His eyes widened with surprise, but kissed back. Starlight wrapped her forelegs around him, feeling the implants on his back. Her hair stood on end as he touched hers as well, and she found herself pushing him toward his bedroom. As she did, she started removing her own clothing, and he started taking off his.

After a few seconds, Starlight took her lips off his but did not release him. “I’m a virgin,” she blurted out.

“Oh,” he said. “I’m not. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. That’s okay.” A thought occurred to Starlight, and she felt her grip around him loosen. “What about Flurry Heart?”

Sunburst blinked. “What about her?”

“You’re married. I shouldn’t- -we shouldn’t- -”

“I’m betrothed, not married. And I think she’ll understand.”

They started kissing again, and finally reached the bed. Starlight pushed Sunburst onto his back and climbed on top of him.

“You certainly are an impressive looking mare,” he said.

“You think so? Just wait.”

Starlight activated several of her internal implants and a tech structure assembled around Core implants on her spine, building itself and extending a set of long, narrow angular protrusions at her sides.

Sunburst looked nervous. “Starlight…what- -what is that?”

“I want to be inside you, Sunburst.” Then she added, blushing. “Please?”

Sunburst hesitated, but then nodded. He seemed to know exactly what to do as Starlight slowly descended, pushing the wing-like tech structures gently beneath him. They stabilized, solidifying, and through them Starlight could feel his implants. Then she connected.

Starlight and Sunburst both gasped in surprise at the sensation that washed over them. Starlight had not been entirely sure what would happen, but something certainly had. With the two of them connected, the boundaries between them began to dissolve, and Starlight felt herself falling into Sunburst.

She lowered her head onto his chest, and realized that she could feel herself through his nerves. Everything he felt, she felt, and vice versa. Even his thoughts became apparent, although only in a tangential sense that allowed his emotions to wash over Starlight, and hers to be felt by him, leading him to respond and together to create new and diverse pathways of thought.

Reality began to become a blur as their combined mental state took precedence. Starlight distantly felt Sunburst’s mouth around her horn, and she could taste the almost fruity flavor through his taste buds. Instead of the pain of being linked to a machine, Starlight was exposed to new sensations that she did not now her implants could even accomplish. It all felt so good.

Comparatively, Starlight’s biotitic power dwarfed Sunburst’s. She assumed a dominant role, and Sunburst fell easily into a submissive one. Despite his weakness, though, he did not come to the exchange emptyhanded: his decades of using his Core implants to command legions of starships in complex battle maneuvers proved to be an extreme advantage, and Starlight had to stop herself from crying out as he used that same dexterity on her.

With their perceived reality warping around them, Starlight and Sunburst did not feel the passage of time. It all seemed to break down into sequence of images of moaning and rubbing against each other until eventually Starlight became aware of a strange sensation that appeared to be growing from every bone in her body

“Sunburst…I think…I think I’m…”

“I know…me too…”

Starlight felt the urge growing uncontrollable, and then suddenly she and Sunburst grasped each other tightly and cried out in unison. A small magical explosion emanated from both of them, spreading out rapidly through the room and knocking down the various shelves and dressers that were not attached to the walls. The intensity of the discharged magic made Starlight’s mind go blank, and she felt her entire body tighten as she watched through both her and Sunburst’s eyes as the magic impacted the crystal walls, causing them to illuminate with blinding light before carrying off through them, traveling outward from the structure like silent lightning within the crystal.

When she finally calmed down, Starlight realized that their mutual outburst had terminated her connection. She smiled, knowing that she probably could not have taken much more anyway. She slid off of Sunburst and beside him. They were both soaked in sweat, but she still wrapped her forelegs around his chest.

“Oh sweet Cadence,” said Sunburst. Then, not knowing what else to say, repeated himself. “Sweet Cadence…I didn’t know we could do that.”

“Neither did I,” said Starlight, nuzzling the fur on his chest. “But I’m glad we did.”

“Oh wow…I didn’t…I didn’t even get inside.”

“Do you still want to?”

“No! I don’t think my heart can take it. And after that…I don’t think it could even compare.” He started to sit up. “I think I need a shower- -”

“No,” said Straight, forcing him back down. “Now is snuggle time.”

“Oh.” Sunburst reached behind Starlight’s head and held her close to him. “Yeah. I don’t think I could have walked anyway.”

Starlight fell asleep quickly. It was actually the first time she had slept in years. As a Core, it has not actually been necessary for her. The few times she did, she was plagued by terrible dreams, fragments of memories involving being held facedown and immobile as surgeons took her ponyhood away from her. The only time she had ever been able to sleep had been sharing a bed with Jack, and that had become impossible once the continued solidity of their starship hinged on Starlight retaining consciousness.

This time, though, the dreams were different. Starlight awoke- -or thought she awoke- -in a place that she had never been before. What first struck her was the scent of the air. She had never known a dream to have a smell, but this one smelled like smoke and ash.

Then, looking around, Starlight realized why the world smelled as though it was burning. Because it was- -or more precisely, had. All around her were the hulking masses of tilted, broken buildings, their alien frames charred and exposed. Ash was falling from the cold gray sky above, and Starlight shivered from the temperature.

“Hello?” she called. There was no response aside from her echo off the fragmented and burned walls and the piles of nondescript junk and debris lying in the street. She was not sure why, but something felt wrong about this dream. It was too real. Starlight looked behind her at the path that she had apparently come from and saw her hoofprints leading out to where she was standing, as if she had walked there. She knew it was a dream, but she remembered that long and silent walk. This place felt too real.

She began walking. All around her was profound silence and emptiness. Starlight had spent much of her life in space, but this empty, dead city felt so much more lonely. Space was a void that remained that way simply by lack of habitation; this city looked as though it had been built to house millions, and yet its emptiness stood in stark contrast to that sentiment.

Starlight continued to grow more and more nervous. The dream was too real, too consistent. There was no haze blocking her consciousness, no sign of bizarre logic or rapidly shifting settings. Just a world slowly passing by.

Then there was a sound. It reflected off the buildings, and at first Starlight could tell neither what it was nor its origin. After a moment of listening, though, she determined that it was the sound of a child crying.

Slowly, Starlight climbed over the wreckage in the street and approached the sound. It was not long before she found its source. In the center of an area where the road widened, Starlight saw a human child. She was crouched in the dust and ash, weeping.

As Starlight drew nearer, she saw that the child was dressed in dirty rags. “Hey,” said Starlight. “It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be- -”

She froze. She had grown close enough to see that the child’s back was exposed, and her pale yellowish skin was overgrown with Core implants that had been mostly obscured by her yellow and red hair.

“N…no,” said Starlight, backing away. “You can’t be a Core. You’re not- -you can’t- -”

Starlight turned around, and saw a much taller figure standing behind her. A human with much more ornate robes, and a pair of blind, staring blue eyes- -but the same red and yellow hair of the child.

“You,” said Starlight, somehow knowing. “It’s- -it’s you.”

The woman nodded. “You,” she said. “I saw you. You are pure. Awake.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Find me, Starlight Glimmer.” She raised one of her hands, spreading her five gloved fingers with her palm facing Starlight. “It is the future.”

“The future? I don’t know- -”

She was cut off as the woman slowly lowered her hand, but instead of returning it to her side she extended just one finger and pointed at the ground beneath her feet. “It is the only logical conclusion.”

Starlight looked down at what she had assumed was rubble. What was beneath her hooves, though, was not building debris or wreckage. It was skulls. Countless millions of shattered and burned pony skulls. The streets of the entire city were lined with them.

Starlight snapped awake. She was aware that she may have been screaming, because Sunburst was already awake and looking terrified, trying to get her to stop. As soon as she actually regained consciousness, Starlight was able to quickly- -but not immediately- -stop. She collapsed into Sunburst’s grasp.

“Starlight,” he said. “What happened?”

Starlight did not answer. There was no way she could. She just held him as tightly as she could, not wanting to let go.

Jack walked slowly down yet another long crystal hallway. It was night, but once again she could not sleep. She very seldom could. That was the problem with living an interesting life: it left too many nightmares in its wake.

She was also beginning to grow irrationally worried. Starlight had still not returned. Jack knew that she had gone to visit her stallion friend, and Jack had enough experience to know what that probably meant. This filled her with a deeply negative emotion. She was not sure of its identity, though. Jealously, perhaps, or maybe just protectiveness. Or just another one of the countless flavors of loneliness that she had learned to accept as a part of her life.

Zedok poked her head out of a room behind Jack, and then stepped out, jogging toward her.

“Hey, Jack- -”

Jack turned sharply and projected a high-lethality singularity directly at Zedok’s head. Zedok reached up and with a snap of green light caught it, suspending it a green-colored biotic field.

She looked at the sphere she was holding, and then at Jack and smiled a smile that the real Zedok would never be able to produce even if she tried. “How did you know it was me? Or did you?”

Chrysalis closed her fist around the singularity and it died with a small burst of energy as it imploded. Jack just looked at her, and then turned back to walking. “I just did,” she said.

“No. Nobody ‘just does,’” said Chrysalis, walking up quickly toward Jack. Jack turned once again, this time charging a shockwave- -and this time seeing a younger, prettier version of herself staring back.

“If you take one step closer, I’ll bring this whole place down.”

Instead of smiling, Chrysalis’s expression darkened into a frown. The illusion that she maintained broke just slightly, and Jack thought she saw something black and chitinous just beneath the fake, untattooed version of her own skin.

“You are beginning to annoy me,” she said. Her voice had an odd feature to it, a strange kind of internal echo that made her suddenly sound almost like a turian.

“Me? You’re the one who’s wearing MY face. Or pretending to be my friends. If I were thirty years younger, I would have crushed you. But I’ve been anything but patient.”

“Why don’t you love me?”

Jack just gaped. She had not expected that question, or anything even close to that question. “What?”

“It doesn’t make sense. My fidelity is perfect. I can feel it in your mind. I copied exactly what you loved and you tried to KILL ME. That’s never happened- -that CAN’T happen!”

“Don’t pretend to know how I feel. You can’t.”

“But I can. You want love, but you can’t accept it. I can give you everything, I can BE anyone- -but when I become what you love, you only give me hate. It’s maddening.”

“Is that why you’ve been following me around? Of all the shitty reasons- -”

“It is not ‘shitty’! I need to be loved! Every pony I meet, I can at least gain some affection, but not YOU. Why not YOU?”

“Because you’re a creepy shapeshifter? Because I don’t even LIKE you? Hell, I’m barely even tolerating you right now.”

“Please, just tell me what I need to be.”

Jack leaned forward and looked into Chrysalis’s eyes. “Gone,” she said, before turning around.

“Wait!” said Chrysalis, racing around in front of Jack. “Please! You have no idea what this is like for me, how…how embarrassing it is. I used to be a queen, and now I’m pleading a puny mortal- -but PLEASE LOVE ME!”

Jack stared at her for a long moment, and then sighed. “Alright. Do you want to have sex?”

“Sex?” Chrysalis’s eyes lit up. “Yes, I can do that.” She leaned forward, her repertoire of motions suddenly becoming seductive. She pressed herself against Jack. “And I can be anyone- -anyTHING- -you want me to be.”

“Alright,” said Jack. “I’ll go all out on you. Drop-down, bone-crushing sex.”

“Yes! Please!”

“BUT.”

“But? But what?”

“Not in that form.”

“Oh,” said Chrysalis, smiling. “Well, as I said, I can be- -”

“It has to be you. Not an illusion. Not one of these bad masks. YOU. Whatever it is you look like when you’re not trying. Show me that, and I’ll do you.”

Chrysalis looked up at Jack wide eyed, and then stepped back. She seemed almost confused- -or on the verge of panic. “But- -but I- -don’t you want something else? That male, I can be him- -”

“No,” said Jack, crossing her arms. “YOU. I don’t want a fake. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it with Chrysalis.”

Chrysalis looked around, panicked, and then shifted. She became Zedok, and then realizing that this was not correct, shifted again. She became Starlight. Then she changed again, this time becoming Shephard. Then a krogan. A yahg. Cadence. A crystal pony. A turian. Then, finally, she reverted back to Jack, her eyes wild and on the verge of tears.

“You can’t even remember, can you?” said Jack.

“You don’t understand. I can be anything- -I can give you anything- -”

“You can give me a copy of anything. But underneath? There’s nothing real. Does that answer your question? Why I can’t love you? Why NOBODY will EVER love you?”

“But- -but- -”

“I thought so,” sighed Jack. “And you know what? I was kind of looking forward to it. I’m so damn alone. But with you? I’d still be alone.”

She turned her back to Chrysalis and walked off the way she had originally come. She did not look back at Chrysalis, and Chrysalis did not bother to try to approach her. In a way, Jack hoped that she would, but she never did. It only made her feel more sad.

Chapter 25: The Same Pony

The locking mechanism for the universe airlock clicked, and then whirred as the internal systems retracted. Then, with a slight hiss, it parted and opened. Blossomforth and Wintrygust stood, watching. Wintrygust initially attempted to remain stoic, but as the door pulled away she found she could hardly contain herself. When she finally saw the smiling orange face on the other side, she rushed forward to hug her.

“Scootaloo!” she said. “I didn’t think I would ever see- -” She stopped suddenly when she saw the pony beside Scootaloo. A taller pony dressed in heavy, dense looking armor, but with a nearly identical if somewhat older face. “And…Scootaloo?”

“What the actual buck,” muttered Blossomforth, not knowing exactly how to react.

“It’s a long story,” said the real Scootaloo as her older counterpart’s eyes shifted, looking around the room. “One I’d be very happy to hear.”

“In time,” said the other. “Or not at all. Really, at this point, it hardly matters.” Her gaze fell onto the two white Pegasi in the room. “I don’t know who you are,” she said to Wintrygust. “Which means you must be unique to this plane.” Her violet eyes slowly drifted toward Blossomforth. “But I do recognize you. Hello, Blossomforth.”

Blossomforth’s eyes widened. “How…how does she know my name?”

“Again, I have no idea,” said Scootaloo.

“Because I’ve met you. Although generally you don’t have red eyes.”

“My- -what did you just say?” Blossomforth’s wings shifted. Scootaloo saw that there were weapons mounted beneath.

“Scootaloo,” said Wintrygust, her tone more measured. “Who is this? Why is she here?”

“Her name is…well…Scootaloo.”

“For differentiation, I recommend referring to me by the name ‘Xyuka’. Spelled with an ‘X’.”

“She was…” Scootaloo sighed. “Apparently, she is Sunset Shimmer’s chief general.”

The room fell silent.

“If I may reiterate, then,” said Wintrygust, “And I don’t mean to question your judgement, Scootaloo, but WHY IS SHE HERE?”

“She was injured. I couldn’t just leave her.”

“My forces have been destroyed, and my connection to my master severed,” explained Xyuka.

“So,” said Blossomforth, “what you’re saying is that you’re our prisoner?” She raised one of her wings and pointed a weapon at Xyuka. There was a wide grin on her face. “Well…we do have a lockable vault. I guess that’s going to be your new home.”

“Blossomforth,” said Scootaloo. There was no way that Blossomforth could have known how volatile the situation was, or what Xyuka was capable of.

“No,” said Xyuka. “You have our positions reversed. I am not your prisoner.”

Xyuka’s eyes widened, and Scootaloo winced as a loud buzzing suddenly filled her head. A buzzing that sounded almost like voices. Around her, the world seemed to distort, as though she were viewing it through static or fog. To her side, she saw Wintrygust and Blossomforth’s expressions suddenly vanish, and their eyes seemed to change. To Scootaloo’s horror, she realized that they looked almost identical to the ponies that had fought alongside the sewn creatures on the satellite.

“This is unusual,” commented Xyuka. “The indoctrination field is barely active, and yet you both are already showing signs of effect. For some reason you are unusually subject to suggestion.” She turned her attention to Scootaloo but addressed Wintrygust and Blossomforth. “Now. Strangle your captain. To death.”

Blossomforth and Wintrygust turned toward Scootaloo, and then stepped toward her, unable to resist the orders. Wintrygust was the closest, and she reached out to Scootaloo. Scootaloo, though, held her ground and looked up into the eyes of her friend. Wintrygust continued to reach out, but her hoof started to shake.

“N…no,” she said, lowering it. “I won’t…I can’t hurt Scootaloo…I won’t…” She lowered her hoof and took a step back, shaking her head against the mind control. “Get out- -get out of my head!”

“Interesting,” said Xyuka. “You are stronger than I expected. Your friend, however? Her, not so much.”

Blossomforth continued to march toward Scootaloo.

“Xyuka,” said Scootaloo. “Stop.”

“But I’m having so much fun.”

“STOP.”

“Fine.”

The buzzing ceased as soon as it had started. Blossomforth stopped her advance and blinked, and then looked horrified. Wintrygust did the same.

“What- -what was that?” cried Blossomforth. “I- -I was awake. I could see, but I couldn’t- -” She turned to face Xyuka. “What did you do to me?”

“Telepathy?” asked Wintrygust, rubbing her head.

“Oh no. Nothing so…ephemeral. I gave you orders, and you obeyed them. Because I made you want to.”

“You- -you,” said Blossomforth. She was unable to finish her statement, and Scootaloo saw that she was shaking.

“Xyuka. No. Scootaloo,” said Scootaloo. It felt strange to say her own name, let alone use it to address someone else. “I was trying to be nice to you. But if you EVER do that to my friends again- -”

“You are not in command of this situation, Scootaloo,” said Xyuka. “I am. But, nevertheless, I acquiesce. For now.”

She walked past Scootalo and between Blossomforth and Wintrygust.

“I can’t believe you let her onboard,” hissed Blossomforth.

“I don’t think I could have stopped her,” admitted Scootaloo.

“I’m just glad you’re back.” Wintrygust hugged Scootaloo tightly. “I thought- -I thought I lost you- -”

“Hey, now,” said Scootaloo, running her hoof through the mare’s white mane. “I’m fine. I made some friends, and they helped me, and…Wintry, whose in command right now?”

“Oh. Me,” she said, sounding somewhat ashamed. “You told me that I should take command if anything happened to you, so- -”

“Buck yeah!” said Scootaloo. “Of course I wanted you in charge! You have way more experience than ANYPONY else here. And that uniform…well, it looks great on you.”

Wintrygust blushed. “Thank you,” she said.

“And you actually managed to find me? Celestia, Wintry. They should give you a medal. I wish they would give you a medal.”

“I don’t need it. I’m just so happy you’re safe.”

Wintrygust wiped the tears away from her eyes, and as she did, Scootaloo noticed something. She reached up and held Wintry’s head. “Wintry? Your eye…no, all of you. You’re bruised. Did somepony hit you?”

Wintry looked at Blossomforth, and then back at Scootaloo. “No. During the initial escape, we had to sacrifice power to the inertial dampeners. I was jostled heartily before I managed to get belted in.”

“If you’re hurt- -”

“I’m fine. We’re fine. All of is.”

“Well, not exactly all of you,” said Xyuka, peering out the door into the main ship.

Scootaloo did not know what she meant, but approached the door anyway. Outside, the hallways were dark, lit only be a slight intermittent flickering of a single light.

“Why is it dark?”

“We sustained substantial damage during the rescue mission,” explained Wintrygust. “We’re currently running on reserve power.”

“That’s not entirely true,” said a voice from the shadows. It was muffled and strange, but Scootaloo recognized it as that of Dr. Heart.

“Heart,” she said. “I can’t see you.”

“I can,” said Xyuka. “It is…impressive. But perhaps something you might not want to see.”

“Heart,” said Scootaloo, feeling her tone become more annoyed as she became more nervous. “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Oh, Captain, nothing is wrong. Everything is so, so right.”

Something clicked across the floor, and Scootaloo saw a long, scythe-like leg emerge into the flickering light. Before her mind could comprehend what that was doing here, the hallway filled with a sickly lavender glow, and suddenly Scootaloo understood.

What was dominating most of the hallway was not Heart. At least not entirely. It was one of the creatures, like the ones on the satellite or the Crimson Horizon- -but again, not entirely. Parts of its body had been stripped away and replaced with mesh of robotics that formed extraneous grasping limbs and extra legs. There was no head, but the torso had been hollowed out, revealing the machinery within.

As Scootaloo looked closer to that gaping hole, she saw a pair of eyes staring back at her, and the source of the light. Heart’s head had been implanted in the center, connected by metal conduits and tubes leading into the ragged border of her neck. Her mouth was covered with a mask, and it took Scootaloo only a moment to realize that her head had been installed inverted. Standing beside her was a grinning, blood-soaked clingon who could not seem to stop giggling.

“Heart, what did you do?” gasped Scootaloo.

“I succeeded,” hissed Heart, her spiderlike body clicking forward with an insect-like gait and cadence. “I finally SUCCEEDED.”

“Sweet Celestia,” cried Blossomforth. “I can’t- -I can’t do this- -”

“Does it hurt?” asked Wintrygust.

“Does it hurt- -you can’t tell how wide I’m smiling right now. Or would be, if I hadn’t have needed to sever my lower jaw to fit my head in here. Let alone the nonorthotopic transplant.”

“I helped make the cupcakes,” said the clingon. She licked some of the spattered blood off of her lips and seemed to shiver with pleasure. “MMM! Cherry!”

“Heart, what happened?” demanded Scootaloo. “And how did- -why did- -”

“Why did I take steps to finally leave my accursed yellow-toned body behind? Well, frankly, because I couldn’t use it anymore. I was attacked and badly injured.”

“Attacked?” said Wintrygust. “I was on the bridge. We didn’t have any sign of being boarded.”

“It’s very hard to get boreded around here,” said Pinkie, now licking blood off her smooth, furless body.

“And yet we were,” said Heart, lowering her inverted head close to Wintrygust and causing Blossomforth to cower. “How, I’m not sure. It was a human. No. She was human, but I recognized her. Sunset Shimmer.”

“Sunset Shimmer?” said Scootaloo. “That’s impossible- -”

“No, it isn’t,” said Xyuka, darkly. “She must have deciphered how to use my transwarp projector…” She trailed off, and then returned to the conversation. “But that is highly unlike her. There is no reason for her to attack such an insignificant ship.”

“She took Trixie.”

Everypony went silent.

“She WHAT?” screamed Scootaloo.

“I couldn’t exactly stop her. She very delicately and neatly severed my spine. Of course, not that the loss of any significance. The Core was on the verge of death anyway.”

“She- -what did you do?!”

“Oh Celestia,” whispered Wintrygust.

“That’s right, Wintry. All those maneuvers? Those weapons you were so intent on firing? They had a cost. Directly to the Core. You were killing her.”

“I’m- -I’m sorry. I didn’t- -”

“Know? Yes, you did. But you’ve already proven that you can kill, haven’t you? That’s where I got this incredibly sexy body.”

“I’d do it,” added Pinkie.

Wintrygust looked like she was on the verge of tears, and not the happy ones she had produced just moments before. Scootaloo tried to refocus the conversation on what really mattered. “She took here? Where? WHERE?”

“To the Crimson Horizon, no doubt,” said Xyuka. “My mistress has a fascination with Cores. No doubt your friend is indeed safe. Just as, no doubt, she is trying to replace me.”

“But that means where stranded,” said Blossomforth. “Buck- -without a Core- -we don’t even have enough power left for long-range communication!”

“That’s not entirely true,” said Heart. As soon as she spoke, she ship hummed to life. The decks shook with power and the gravity intensive and clarified. The lights flickered more rapidly and then burned brightly.

“What- -what did you do?”

“You used it as a power source,” said Xyuka.

Heart nodded. “I told you. I succeeded. You didn’t think I just left my body to rot, did you? I performed the surgery on it myself.” She raised her robotic metal hands, the numerous fingers flexing rapidly. “I told you I succeeded. I built a Core- -without a horn. From my own severed body.”

“And I helped,” said Pinkie.

“Unfortunately, she ship is still badly damaged otherwise. It will take time to repair, even with this body.”

“I do not have time,” said Xyuka. “Without me to stop her, she will accelerate the timetable for the attack. I need to get back home, back to the Crimson Horizon.” She paused. “I will perform the necessary repairs.”

The armor on Xyuka’s back shifted, producing a set of small nodes. White light emerged from each node, and several objects began to print at her sides, quickly materializing from apparently nothing. Within seconds, Xyuka had produced several octahedral devices that perfectly resembled tiny models of her ships.

She pointed, and the models streaked off through the halls, with one nearly impaling Blossomforth as it flew off. Xyuka watched them go, and then started walking down the hall herself.

“Where are you going?” demanded Scootaloo.

“Does it matter?” asked Xyuka. “I can’t leave your ship. I’ll remain here if you need me.”

Returning to life on the Failure took some getting used to. Everything was essentially the same; after all, Scootaloo had only been gone for a few days. In that short time, though, the entire command structure had been upended. That was not necessarily a bad thing. The crew seemed to show much greater respect toward Wintrygust, especially Blossomforth, who seemed to have at least partially calmed down. The addition of the clingon to the crew was also bizarre, to say the least, but they were already short-staffed enough so Scootaloo accepted Wintrygust’s decision to deputize it. It now tended to spend much of its time with Lemon Heart overseeing the repairs. That only left Sassaflash, who was as narcoleptic as ever.

Scootaloo should have been overjoyed to return. Instead, though, she found herself endlessly thinking about Trixie. She could not help but blame herself. After all, it had been her fault. Trixie was her friend. She could have taken steps to protect her, or even to free her, somehow. Every time she had almost done it, doubt always overtook her: if she tried to help Trixie escape, the Equestrian navy would track her down like they had for Starlight Glimmer. If she replaced Trixie with a stronger Core, then instead of letting Trixie go free, they would euthanize her- -and Scootaloo would be left with the guilt of having what would likely be a child being slowly depleted of magical energy in her engine room.

Worse than the guilt by far, though, was the inability to do anything about the situation. Scootaloo really had no solid plan. The best she could come up with was to offer Xyuka as an exchange for Trixie, but that was tenuous at best. She had no way to know how Sunset Shimmer would respond- -or even how Xyuka would react. For all Scootaloo knew, as soon as they got there, Xyuka could teleport them away and destroy the Failure from a distance.

Even if she had come up with any kind of working plan, though, Scootaloo had no way to implement it. The Failure had been damaged much more badly than Wintrygust’s prosaic report led her to believe. Repairs to communications alone should have taken weeks to months in a dry dock- -let alone in distant galaxy with no source of replacement parts for a ship that was so old they probably did not even exist.

Repairs were actually going smoothly, though, despite what should have been immense logistic constrains. According to Heart, Xyuka was rapidly repairing all damaged systems- -and making improvements. At least, that was what Heart thought. Even with her knowledge of advanced propulsion systems, she could understand Xyuka’s technology in the slightest.

Thoughts about this continued to run through Scootaloo’s mind as she lay awake in bed. It was not quite as comfortable as a pile of cloned Twilight Sparkles, but it was familiar, as was the insomnia. After what felt like several hours, though, she decided that she needed to go for a walk. Wintrygust was sleeping soundly beside her, and Scootaloo gently moved the white pony’s forelegs away from her. Wintrygust stirred, but Scootaloo patted her on the mane and she smiled as she rolled over and went back to sleep.

Outside, the halls were dark. It was partially to save power, but also to simulate night on Equestria. The dim glow of the blueish emergency lights lit the way, though, and Scootaloo found herself hesitating. She did not want to accidentally run into Heart in the low light.

Instead of Heart, though, Sassaflash silently walked past Scootaloo. Scootaloo jumped in surprise. “Sassaflash!” she gasped, trying not to cry out and wake the rest of the ship up. “What- -what are you doing up?”

“What am I doing up?” she said, as if confused by the question. “I’m always up this time of night.”

“What? Why?”

“I have the worst time sleeping. Most nights, I just wander through the ship. Thinking. About stuff.”

“You have trouble sleeping?”

“I always have. No idea why.” She paused. “You can’t sleep either, Captain?”

“No,” admitted Scootaloo.

“Well, walking doesn’t help, but you can do it anyway. I think I’m going to go play some checkers with the clingon, even though she cheats like hay. You’ll have the ship to yourself. But a world of advice: don’t go to deck four.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s where SHE is.”

“You mean Xyuka.”

Sassa nodded. “Yeah. Her. I don’t like her.”

“Telling.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Go play checkers.”

“Oh. Okay.” Sassaflash stared for a moment, and then slowly walked off toward the stairwell. Scootaloo could not help but wonder if she was actually sleepwalking.

Once she was alone in the creaking, dark ship, though, Scootaloo immediately regretted not having followed Sassaflash. It just felt too lonely. She found herself walking down the stairwell, intending to go watch the checkers game- -assuming it was not in the same room as Heart’s suspended, headless body, which in all likely hood it was- -when she stopped at the door to deck four. The floor where Xyuka was.

Scootaloo opened the door. She had expected it to lead to something unique, even terrifying, but it was just another dark hallway. For a moment, Scootaloo considered turning around- -but instead walked into the space.

Xyuka was actually in one of the formerly empty cargo bays, all the way at the end. Scootaloo opened the door to it and found that it was only partially lit. Much of it was filled with old equipment in storage, or the few spare parts for the ship that they carried with them- -but at the same time, a great deal of it was overrun with modifications. The walls and floor were made of a completely different material, and the entire bay seemed to have changed in both size and shape. The walls shimmered with geometric patterns of light, and were connected to a number of machines through cables placed at strategic points.

In one corner, Scootalo saw several of the small octahedrons orbiting in the air. Each was projecting a set of rapidly shifting bright-red lasers at an object that was being slowly constructed on the floor. Scootaloo realized that they were building a much larger version of themselves: they were making a small ship.

“Cybran nanomanufacturing,” said Scootaloo’s voice from across the room. “The smaller ones are just digistructed, but I need something more solid for larger works. I intend to use the central processing architecture to augment your ship’s extremely limited computational system.”

Xyuka was standing across the room, staring out a large glass window at the blue-green planet below. Scootaloo realized that she was naked. Her armor had been removed, revealing the orange-coated body underneath. Her skin was dotted with scars- -both from what appeared to be injuries, as well as repeated surgeries- -and numerous implants, including an extensive set along her spine that bypassed her tiny, atrophied wings.

“Did we always have that window?” asked Scootaloo.

“No,” said Xyuka. “I added it. I have enhanced retinas, but my primary sensory array was in the helmet cover that you shot a hole in.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s a sign of weakness.” She paused. “I like to look out at space. It so full…and so small.”

“Yeah,” said Scootaloo, walking up beside her. There were even more scars and implants on her front side, including her right front leg which appeared to be entirely artificial.

“You’re wondering what these scars are from,” said Xyuka.

“Did you read my mind to know that?”

Xyuka seemed mildly amused. “What gives you the impression that I can read your mind?”

“The way you were fighting. Back on the satellite. You knew every move I was going to make before I even made it.”

Xyuka smiled weakly. “I’m not a telepath. Not yet. I wasn’t reading your mind.”

“Then how did you know?”

“You have slight arthritis in your left foreleg after damaging the ligaments as a child. You always put your back legs parallel to the direction you want to attack, because you’ve always considered them your strongest feature. And as a filly, Rainbow Dash taught you the ‘old one-two punch’, which is very predictable if you know it’s coming.”

“How- -how do you know all that?”

“How?” Xyuka’s violet eyes looked down at Scootaloo’s . “Because I AM you. I injured my left leg in a scooter accident. Since I couldn’t fly, I had stronger legs than most Pegasi as a child. And Rainbow Dash taught me the same fighting trick.”

“Then what are you, exactly? How can you be me?”

“The answer to that question is the same as to the question you failed to ask first, concerning these scars and implants. I am a traveler. Instead of crossing space, though, I cross reality. Hundreds, thousands, millions of versions of it. And I have been wondering for a long, long time.”

“How long?”

“Time has no meaning out there…but I lost track around seven thousand six hundred.”

“Wh- -but you’re not a unicorn! You can’t possibly be that old!”

“I am much, much older. Immortality is not very hard to construct.”

“That explains the implants, then.”

Xyuka nodded. “Every reality I reach is slightly different. Some are empty, either long dead or yet to give life. Others uninhabitable for very long. Some have life. And technology. I accumulate some wherever I go.” She raised her right hoof, and the coating on it slid away, revealing the narrow, skeletal metal claw and arm beneath. She stared at it, maneuvering the long, pointed fingers with ease. Then she closed it, and returned to her standing position. “A question, though. Does this universe have a Rainbow Dash?”

“Yes,” said Scootaloo. “It does.”

Xyuka’s eyes narrowed. “That tone is not what I would normally expect you to use in reference to your sister.”

“Our relationship is…strained. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then you had damn well unstrain it.”

Scootaloo looked up, shocked by Xyuka’s sudden change in tone. “What would you know?” she asked. “You may look like me, but you haven’t lived my life. You haven’t seen what she’s done.”

“I don’t have to. She’s your sister.”

“Oh yeah? Then where is your Rainbow Dash?”

Xyuka fell silent, and in that silence Scootaloo found her answer and immediately regretted the tone of anger in her comment.

“She’s dead,” said Xyuka. “My native universe no longer has a Rainbow Dash.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Xyuka just sighed and looked out at the placid atmosphere of the planet below. “My world was not like yours. Our technology was initially simple. When I was your age, we were undergoing a technological revolution. Rainbow Dash was testing an experimental flight augmentation system- -and something went wrong. I watched her die. All of Ponyville did. There was not even a body left to bury.”

“That- -” Scootaloo suddenly felt sick. Rainbow Dash was not a nice pony, and she had essentially scapegoated Scootaloo for the debaucle with the aliens in the Serpent Nebula, but Scootaloo was suddenly realizing that despite that, she still cared deeply for Rainbow Dash, even if the feeling was only a shadow of the infatuation she had felt in her younger years. The thought of watching her die was horrifying.

“Is terrible? It was psychologically traumatic. I was crushed. I considered joining her. You would see the signs of that if my arm were still attached.”

“But you got better.”

“No.” Xyuka shook her head. “I became obsessed with finding a way to bring her back. The same technological revolution that killed her allowed me to become an expert in interdimensional travel. I was considered brilliant in my home reality. I should have just accepted that. I should have stayed.”

“But if it would save Rainbow Dash- -”

“But it didn’t. I never found a way to get her back. And eventually…I started to branch out from the local accessible realities. The free energy differences became greater and then…insurmountable. Coordinates were lost and causality pathways increased at an exponential rate.”

“You got lost.”

Xyuka nodded. “Now I can never return home. My friends, my loved ones. I will never see them again.”

“But if there are other Scootaloos, there must be other Rainbow Dashs. Couldn’t you- -”

“Take one of those? Settle in one of those universes? Perhaps one without a native Scootaloo? I’ve tried. But you know why I can’t. You can feel it. When you look at me? It’s like I’m wrong. Like I don’t belong here.”

Scootaloo looked up at her, and concentrated. It was weak, but it was there. A strange unnerving sensation that passed beyond the fact that she was looking at a copy of herself. “Yeah. I can feel it.”

“Imagine that a hundred thousand times worse, every second. Every Rainbow Dash…so, so close, but not MY Rainbow Dash. I can hardly look at them, even though I want to so, so badly. It’s so…maddening.”

Scootaloo did not know how to respond, and they both went silent. The silence lasted for what felt like several minutes, but it did not feel awkward. Scootaloo supposed that it stemmed from being alone with herself.

“I wish I could help,” she said.

“You can. Get me back to Sunset Shimmer.”

Scootaloo grimaced. “I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“You don’t need to feel anything about it. Just bring me back.”

“So you can do what, exactly?

Xyuka frowned. “Listen to me very carefully, Scootaloo,” she said, slowly. “I do not have a problem answering that question. It has no effect on me. But it will on you. You will not like the answer. Are you sure you want to ask that question?”

“Yes,” said Scootaloo. “Do you think I would have asked it if I didn’t want to know the answer?”

“Then you are either naïve or a masochist. Fine. Sunset Shimmer’s ultimate goal is the wholesale destruction of all ‘impure’ ponies, which in her parlance means non-Cores.”

Scootaloo’s eyes widened. “W- -WHAT?”

“I told you that you would dislike my response.”

“But- -how can you say that? Without even a hint of concern? That- -that’s not even possible!”

“I assure you, it is. The technology that makes up her body- -the Crimson Horizon- -is quite extensive. Even I was only acting as support. Her capacity is far beyond me, but I know her well. Trust me, Scootaloo. She is more than capable of such a feat.”

“And you’re just okay with this? Scootaloo- -”

“Xyuka.”

“NO. Scootaloo. That’s the name your mother gave you. Our mother. You- -no. You know what? You can’t be me. Not if you would seriously consider something like that- -”

“Do not pretend that you understand what I am, Scootaloo,” said Xyuka, harshly. “What I’ve been through. You are a teenager. You’ve barely been alive for two decades.”

“That’s not an excuse! What in Equestria could make you- -make me- -be willing to even THINK about trying to help somepony who is trying to do that?!”

“Because I owe her,” said Xyuka, simply. “Because she is my savior.”

“I don’t care if she licks your- -”

“I was dead,” said Xyuka. “Or as close as I can come to it anymore. I had reached my entropy limit. I was trapped in the void, conscious and immortal. Alone. For all eternity, lost. I had depleted my resources and had no way out. And then she came. When I was in that horrible state, when I was at my worst, the remains of the Crimson Horizon arrived. Even weakened, the found me. She helped me. She was my friend. I owe her this, Scootaloo.”

“You owe her? Pony SHIT! You would be killing Equestria- -Rainbow Dash, Applebloom, Sweetie Belle- -you’d be killing ME!”

“And likely myself, too.” Xyuka sighed. “But I…I don’t know if there’s enough left of me not to do this. Every year I live, every world I visit…you would think it adds something to you, but it doesn’t. Every new experience takes something away. I don’t think I’m even alive anymore.”

“Well then I should just kill you here.”

“You have already more than proven that you are not capable of that. Besides. You need me.”

“Need you? What the hay do I need you for?”

“Because I’ve come to function as Sunset’s conscience. I am just a piece of her war machine, a level slightly above those creatures that she created. I am essentially meaningless to her, and I know that. She would enact her plan with or without me- -but with me, I can minimize the damage.”

“So, what? Turn a genocide into a half-genocide? Scootaloo, why can’t you see this? She has to be stopped!”

“Then I pray you stop her.”

“And how am I supposed to do that? Scootaloo. Please. If I’m going to do this, I need your help.”

Xyuka blinked. “My help? Why mine?”

“Why? Because you have the tactical advantage here. Why did you bother to seek me out in the first place?”

“Because you are Scootaloo. And so am I.”

“Exactly. With both of us, the awesome will have been doubled!”

Xyuka paused to think about that for a moment. “I wish it were that simple.”

“Then make it that simple.”

“I will try,” said Xyuka. She put her hoof on Scootaloo’s head. “For you. The me I wish I had stayed as. But I will not betray my mistress. She’s my friend, I can’t”

“I know. And we’ll find another way.”

Xyuka smiled. “I…I miss my old optimism. I’m glad I didn’t kill you. Of the many Scootaloos I have met, you are one of the best so far.”

“Many? Just how many of us have you seen?”

“Hundreds, maybe? A lot, certainly. Usually we have similar traits. I so far have yet to meet one of us who can fly under her own power.”

“Damn. That sucks.”

“There is multiverse chatter that one of has a son, though.”

“A son? But- -Rainbow Dash isn’t a stallion!”

“I know, right? I thought I was the only straight Scootaloo for the longest time.”

“Wait, how do you know I’m not straight?”

“Because I’ve noticed the way you’ve been staring at my flank. Three times alone since the conversation started. The action you are thinking of is called ‘selfcest’. And it is disgusting. And…fun.”

“Fun? I thought you said you were straight.”

“I did. I did not say that all Scootaloos are female.”

Scootaloo burst out into a giggling fit. It felt wrong after the seriousness of the conversation they had just had, but she just could not help herself. The image of a pony as stiff and awkward as Xyuka in such a bizarre and kinky situation was just too hilarious.

Even Xyuka’s smile slowly became a ragged chuckle, and Scootaloo pulled a stool out of one of the storage boxes.

“What are you doing?” asked Xyuka.

“I can’t sleep. Can you?”

“I don’t sleep.”

“I didn’t think so. And I’ll bet you hate being alone as much as I do.” Scootaloo sat down on the chair. “So I’m just going to sit here, and talk if you want to. Just Scootaloo-on-Scootaloo. And NO, not like that. Nobody ever said you can’t be friends with yourself.”

Xyuka smiled. This time, the grin was real, even if it was soft and hesitant. “I’d like that,” she said. “I’d like that a lot.”

Chapter 26: Discussion

It was early in the morning. Zedok yawned and took another sip from her coffee. It was warm and pleasant, although she could not help but wonder not only where ponies got coffee from but how they picked it with hooves. She knew it was probably best to not think about such things. It was just one of those strange phenomena that seemed to permeate the universe, like why everyone spoke the language, what a volus actually looked like, or why quarians were universally hated. It was good coffee, though, and Zedok was fixated on the irony that she could get better hot beverages halfway across the universe than on Parnack.

Still considering the thought, she entered a darkened room and snapped her fingers. Her ability to summon biotic energy in her hands had been badly compromised by her chronic injuries, but it was enough to create a resonance cascade of energy that lit the chandelier in the room- -and revealed a turian sitting alone in the dark.

Upon seeing this, Zedok nearly spit out her coffee and jumped in surprise. “Berry!” she cried. “Why the hell were you sitting in the dark?!”

“I got here early,” she said. She did not look at Zedok, and her tone made it sound as though speaking to Zedok was an annoying distraction from her current task- -which, as far as Zedok could tell, was nothing more than sitting at a long conference table.

“That doesn’t really answer the question,” said Zedok, sitting down. Beri still did not look up at her. “Is something wrong with you? Stomachache? You didn’t eat that hay stuff, did you? Because I ate about four pounds of it before I realized that asari can’t digest the stuff. Apparently it’s a fodder grass. Who knew?”

“I know that,” said Beri. “Humans farm it on their colonies.” Her cybernetic eyes flashed upward. It was the first time that Zedok saw them up close, and the first time that she realized that Beri’s eyes were artificial. From the look of them, they were much higher than hers or Starlight’s. Military grade, even. “And I don’t have a stomach. Or intestines. Or organs at all.”

“Oh,” said Zedok. “Yeah. That makes sense for a cyborg.”

Beri’s eyes narrowed. “You knew?”

“Um, yeah? How could I not? Despite what you turians think, asari are not all a bunch of sheltered liberal-arts beatniks. I’m a trained physician. Mostly. And you are bad at hiding it.”

“It’s difficult to slow myself down to your level. I can move so fast, so much faster. And you’re all slow sacks of meat…”

“Ah. So you’re a salarian now.” Zedok leaned back and took another sip of her coffee. “It does not explain why you are right now what is known in the medical field as a ‘sack of sad’. What’s the matter? Is the stick in crooked today?”

“I don’t know what this stick you persist on referring to is.”

Zedok leaned forward. “The one shoved up your ass. Or cloaca, in your case. Oh wait. You’re a cyborg. You don’t have genitals. That’s probably your problem, actually.”

Beri frowned. “And I suppose I am supposed to take advice on how to use genitals from an asari? No thank you. I would rather not have scale-itch.” She muttered something that was unintelligible, and then turned away. “You are not turian. You would not understand.”

“About being an uptight whiner? Nope. Not a clue. But if it’s the cybernetics, stuff it up your metaphorical butt. You’re not the only cyborg here, you know.” Zedok put down her coffee and raised her arms in front of her. “See these? No muscle or bone. All robotic inside. And Jack? Lost her legs on Earth. Starlight? I just did some surgery on her, and she’s mostly metal at this point. And don’t even get me started on Lyra…or Armchair…”

“The only problem with my enhancements is that there aren’t ENOUGH. Not enough…not yet…”

“Clearly,” said Zedok, sarcastically.

“Like I said, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Yeah. Because if you had just a little bit more metal, maybe you wouldn’t have frozen at just the sight of a Reaper.”

Beri shot up suddenly, her chair falling behind her. Zedok just kept smiling- -she had just found Beri’s exact problem.

“You have no idea- -”

“Don’t I? I was there, Berry.”

“Don’t call me BERRY! My name is TYROS!”

“Sensitive, aren’t you?”

“Oh please, what would an asari know? You didn’t have to grow up on Palavan. Hearing constant stories about heroes of a war that you never even saw. Or getting passed over for promotions by infinitely less qualified rejects who could claim ‘battle experience’ because they ran supplies during the invasion. To watch the near perfect story of your idol tarnished by something beyond his control, his legacy forgotten. To wish every single day that you could have been in the battle- -”

“So you could freeze up when it counts, you mean?”

Beri slammed her fist into the table with enough force to fracture the crystal. “You have no IDEA what that was like! The embarrassment, the shame, to finally get my chance and have the one part of me that I can’t improve FAIL?! DO YOU?!”

Zedok paused, and then looked up at her. “No. Of course not.”

“I didn’t think so,” said Beri, sitting back down.

“Because I’m not a coward.”

Beri’s eyes widened. “What did you just call me?”

“Oh please. All that whining? You already knew. I’m just pointing it out. Do you expect me to feel sorry for you? Because you pissed away your body for NOTHING? Because you got afraid when you saw the big bad Reaper? Should I call the whambulance?”

“How dare you- -”

“How dare I? Point out the truth? But what would you understand about that? You’re a turian. Your entire military is a joke. My people would have crushed you if it hadn’t been for the salarians.”

“The turians and asari have never had a conflict of any nature.”

“I’m not talking about the asari. You’ve met my father.”

Beri’s expression hardened. “You’re half krogan.”

“Yeah. Do you know what happened to the krogan who froze up? They got eaten. Or blown up by artillery strikes.”

“As opposed to the cannon fodder that took the front lines? What you’re talking about is bloodlust. A defect, not a benefit.”

“No. What I’m talking about is doing what needs to be done when it needs to be done. Without hesitation. If you hesitate? You die. Or, worse, people you care about die.”

“I care for no one,” said Beri. “I have taken great steps and sacrifice to ensure that I have no strong personal connections.”

“And you wonder why you hesitate.”

Beri finally went silent, and Zedok did as well, sipping her coffee. For a moment, she wondered if the turian would actually attempt to kill her. Turians were well known jerks, and it was not out of the realm of possibility. Instead of drawing a weapon, though, Beri just leaned back and stared at Zedok.

“I really hate you,” she said.

“I can tell. But I also think you have the hots for me. You’d probably go for a feel if I gave you have a chance.”

Armchair poked his head out from beneath the table. “What? Can we watch?”

This time, both Zedok and Beri nearly jumped out of their chairs. “Armchair!” cried Zedok. “How- -how long have you been under there?”

“Nine hours forty two minutes seventy six seconds. Seventy seven. Seventy eight. Seventy nine…”

“Nine- -why? What the hell are you doing under there?”

“We have composed an arch of four hundred and twelve individual sonnets on the subject of windows, as well as an extended ballad about the Legend of Legion. And windows.”

“WHY?”

Armchair shrugged. “Because we like windows. A lot.”

He emerged from beneath the table, his body abnormally spry and flexible as he pulled himself into one of the chairs. It was somewhat disturbing to watch, even for Zedok. Geth were strange.

“Would you like to hear a poem about windows?” he asked.

“NO.” said Zedok and Beri simultaneously.

It took about half an hour of Armchair relaying his sonnets before the others started to arrive. Darien appeared and sat down next to Zedok, and Jack took a position leaning against the back wall. Around this time, Armchair became distracted by attempting to catch a dust mote and stopped relaying his bizarre poems, just as Zedok was starting to appreciate them. Lyra entered last and sat at the far extreme of the table.

“Have you seen Starlight?” asked Jack.

“Many times,” said Armchair, grabbing at the air. “Almost got you, tiny fragment of probably skin or horse dander!”

“We do not have ‘dander’,” muttered Lyra.

“She said she wanted to meet us,” said Zedok. “I hope she brought more coffee. This stuff is so. GOOD.”

“Zed, do you know what a civet is?”

“Civet?” Zedok took a long sip of her coffee. “No? Why?”

“You can tell her later,” said Starlight entering the room. She was followed by another pony, a unicorn stallion with long orange hair.

“Hey,” said Zedok. “Star, is this that stallion you’ve been talking about?”

“This is Sunburst,” said Starlight. “I want him to participate in this meeting.”

Zedok leaned forward and looked closely at Sunburst, who took a step back to maintain his personal space. “Oh my gersh,” she said. “Look at the little blaze on his face! And the beard! He’s friggin adorable, Starlight!”

“Oh my,” said Sunburst, blushing. “Thank you. And you are very…blue.”

“That does explain where you were last night,” muttered Jack. “And why you smell like fancy soap.”

Zedok gasped. “Star, you actually did it?”

“I’d rather not talk about that,” said Starlight. Sunburst was blushing, and they both took seats between Zedok and Lyra.

“I hear a ‘yes’…”

“I don’t,” said Darien, apparently confused. “But I do smell the soap. It smells pretty.”

“Can we please be serious for a moment?” said Starlight.

“What’s up, Star?” said Jack.

Starlight took a breath, and then explained the situation as she had explained it to Sunburst before. The others, for their part, listened patiently. They would sometimes interrupt with questions- -usually from Armchair- -but never anything substantial.

Then, finally, Starlight came to her conclusion. “…and the ultimate problem is, I have no idea where Starswirl’s device is located. I don’t know where Sunset Shimmer is going.”

“It potentially puts many lives in danger,” said Sunburst. “At this point, she is not just a threat to the Crystal Empire, but potentially to Equestria, and to any species that gets in her way.”

“And we care, why, exactly?” said Jack.

“Why?” said Sunburst. “Because it is the right thing to do?”

“Right thing- -Star, what you’re talking about is suicide. You saw that thing. Even if we find it, then what? Where it is, that’s not a problem. Not even close.”

“If you don’t want to help, you can stay behind,” retorted Sunburst, a bit sharply.

“I didn’t say I’m not going to help. It wouldn’t be my first suicide mission.”

“The point is moot,” said Beri. “You just said yourself that you don’t know where it is.”

“So what do you actually recommend?” said Zedok. “Just sit here and wait until it shows up?”

“No. I recommend not straying from the mission objectives. Even though all of you hardly seem to care. We inform the Citadel and wait for a response. We’re forming diplomatic relations with Equestria, but we’re not going to fight a war for them.”

“Would not this be a good way to prove friendship, then?” suggested Darien.

Beri opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it, realizing that Darien had a point.

“We have checked with the various observatories,” said Armchair. “Despite this, we have nothing to look for. The vessel has no unique signatures that we are aware of. We have no way to track it.”

“Are you using the royal we?” asked Sunburst.

“No. We are not.”

“You know,” said Lyra, leaning forward as the rest of them went silent. She paused as her one good eye scanned them all. “I’ve heard that legend before.”

Starlight suddenly rejoined the conversation. “You have?”

“Yeah. There are old legends. Impossibly old legends from the time the Dundian Codex was written. About the origin of the Questlords.”

Sunburst’s eyes widened. “You’re a Questlord?” Lyra nodded. “You…that should be impossible. You’re people- -”

“Disbanded after their commander’s body was ruined during the last Crystal War? They did. And yet I’m still here.”

“The legends,” said Starlight. “What did they say?”

Lyra sighed. “Not much. The original Codex was lost millennia ago, and its contents survive only as an oral tradition. The legend had almost been forgotten by the time I was born. But some of the old knights still told it. They claimed that the first of our kind were mage-warriors, direct descendants from the disciples of Starswirl the Bearded.”

“You mean the ones he took with him?” Starlight leaned forward, her eyes wide.”

“That’s not clear. But…I think so. There was a sense that the original Questlords were elsewhere, and that they returned. Some of us, anyway. To safeguard Starswirl’s bloodline.”

“Starswirl had children?”

“Yes. A daughter. His line continued in obscurity for some time. Until the last descendant was lost during the Huntsmare Uprising. That is simple history. What you’re asking me about is mythology.”

“Mythology?”

“Ancient battles, epic wars against powerful wizards, unicorns standing at the side of brave mythological warriors. None of it is true.”

“I know those legends,” said Sunburst. “Or at least part of it.”

“I do too,” said Beri. “In the children’s books. Bipedal monsters.”

“Aliens,” said Zedok. She turned to Starlight. “That means he went to an inhabited world.”

“World…” said Lyra. Her eye suddenly brightened. “Paper. I need paper!”

Sunburst fumbled through his pockets, trying to find a loose page. Armchair, meanwhile, produced a large pile of paper and a pen, most of them covered in very small, very neat print. He handed a pen and a blank sheet to Lyra.

Lyra lifted the pen in her magic and immediately began to scribble on the paper. “The legends about those aliens are somewhat universal, but they’re based on Questlord history.”

“But they’re not useful,” said Beri. “Almost every species in our galaxy is bipedal. If there is life in other galaxies- -”

“And we don’t know the nature of the monsters,” said Sunburst. “It varies immensely in each telling.”

“But it all comes from one source,” said Lyra. “And even if our Codex failed to survive, or icons did. There is a motif used to represent that era. It’s damn obscure…but it always had an impact on me as a filly.” She put down the pen and lifted the paper. The image drawn on it was highly stylized, but Starlight immediately recognized what it was: a hand.

“Five fingers,” said Beri. “But that would mean…”

Jack and Zedok both raised a hand. Each of them had five fingers.

“Only two races in the galaxy have appendages of that shape,” said Armchair. “If this line of reasoning stands, the device can only be on two possible places.”

“Thessia or Earth,” said Beri.

Starlight felt a twinge in her brain, a fragment of a memory. Not a specific image, but a feeling- -one she associated with a dead city with streets paved with pony skulls. “Earth,” she said, standing up suddenly. “It’s on Earth. I know it is.”

“Are you sure?” said Jack.

“It has to be. I’m sure of it.”

The room fell silent. Jack was the first to interrupt it. “Well, FUCK.”

“What’s wrong?” said Starlight. She was smiling. “We know where it is! Where she’s going!”

“Yeah,” said Jack. “To goddamn EARTH. Star, do you have any idea what Earth IS?”

“The human homeworld.”

“A fortress,” said Beri. “The most heavily militarized zone in all of galactic history, populated by xenophobic monkey things who do absolutely nothing except prepare for an absolute war of galactic devastation. Earth is under Class 4 quarantine- -and not just because they have systematically violated every rule that the Council has held sacred for millennia. Aliens are not permitted in Alliance space, let alone the Sol system- -let alone Earth!”

“I can’t even set foot on it,” said Jack. “I’m considered a wanted criminal. The ‘shoot on sight’ kind.”

“But if we just try to contact them- -”

“Humans do not listen to logic,” interrupted Beri. “They never have, and they never will. Imagine if you combined the murderous rage of the krogan with the technological expertise of salarians, the paranoia of baterians, and the breeding habits of vorcha. That would be humans. There is a reason they are banned from the Citadel.”

“Which provides an advantage to us,” noted Armchair. He projected a holographic starchart over the table. “This is the Sol system,” he said, pointing. “And this is Alliance space.” A boundary formed in the orange-tinged holographic cloud of stars and annotated systems. “From your observations, the Crimson Horizon is capable of neither use of the mass-relay system nor direct teleportation without extreme sacrifice. She will be forced to advance directly through here.” He pointed, and a system of marks appeared.

“What the hell is that?” said Starlight.

“The human defense force. A naval force originally intended to repel the Reapers should they return, but later optimized to defend against Council races. It is by no means equally distributed, but Sunset Shimmer would have to advance through it to reach the Sol system.”

“Not just that,” said Beri. She pointed at the map, and Armchair projected a different set of points in blue. “The combined turian and asari fleets have been in a blockade on the far side of the neutral zone for years. The force supposedly outguns and outnumbers the human ships. Sunset Shimmer would have to go through them too before she even hit the human lines. It would be a suicide run.”

“But she’s going to try.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” said Beri. “Because Thessia is far less defended. If you go to the wrong planet…”

“I know,” said Starlight. “And I know she’s going to Earth. I just know.”

“You will have some difficulty approaching the planet, though,” said Armchair. The hologram changed to a projection of a strange, enormous device orbiting a small planet.

“What the hell is that?” asked Zedok, leaning forward.

“The Charon mass relay.”

“That’s a mass relay?”

“The Alliance has constructed what is known as the ‘Iris’ system for mass relays to Sol and associated colonial systems. It causes resonance dispersion of any vessel approaching without an Alliance IFF.”

“What does that mean?” asked Darien, sounding as though he already knew the answer.

“It vaporizes non-Alliance vessels,” said Beri.

“Fine,” said Starlight. “That doesn’t matter. I wasn’t intending on using the relays anyway.”

“Yes it does,” said Beri. She blanched slightly as the implication of Armchair’s words became clear. “What he means is, if we go in there…there’s no backup.”

“Do you still want to try this?” asked Jack.

Starlight looked to Sunburst. He looked nervous, but she could tell that he understood. She turned back to the others and addressed her friends.

“Hell yes,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

Chapter 27: Miranda’s Gift

The walls seemed to swim as Oriana ran, her peripheral sight fading as her vision focused entirely on the bleeding woman before her. This was the Oriana of Before- -before the countless hours of training, the heavy genetic enhancements and cybernetic upgrades. Before Cerberus, and before she had slain countless hundreds in the name of protecting Earth- -and decades before her introduction to an irritable and at the time extremely pregnant cannibal.

She raced to her sister’s side. Oriana felt her hands shaking. There was so much blood. She had learned CPR in school, but she had no idea what to do for something like this.

“Mir- -Miranda, hold on!” she said, pushing her hand against the deep stab wounds in her chest. There was a crunch as she felt the pulverized remnants of Miranda’s ribs shift against her pressure, and Miranda barely reacted. That made it so much worse. “I- -I need medigel!”

“It’s too late,” said Miranda. She coughed, and blood trickled out of her mouth. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you…”

“Don’t say that! It’s going to be okay!”

Miranda gasped, and reached up, grabbing Oriana. “At least…you are safe. That’s all I ever wanted. It’s why I joined Cerberus. I need you…to know that. To keep you- -and the others- -to keep them safe.”

“I know, I know, Miranda- -”

“I don’t have much time. Please, Oriana, listen…” she winced. “I’m dying. I can’t protect you anymore. I wish…I wish I could. Just promise me…that you’ll keep going. To do what I was too weak to do.”

“Miranda!” Oriana took her sister’s hand. She could barely see through the tears. “I- -I will. I promise. You don’t have to worry.”

Miranda smiled. She reached up and touched Oriana’s face, leaving a bloody smear. “Cerberus gave me so much. Let them…let them help you.” She took a ragged breath. “Thank…you…”

Her eyes lost focus, and Miranda collapsed in Oriana’s arms. She suddenly felt so heavy.

“Mir…Miranda? Miranda?” Oriana shook her sister, even though she already knew that she was gone. She had only just started to get to know her- -and now she was gone.

Footsteps sounded from behind her. A group of soldiers approached. Their leader was a handsome man in black N7 armor. As he came to a stop, Oriana looked up and saw the shock and hurt on his face. She also became aware of his companions: a turian with a badly scarred face, a quarian in purple, and another human with misty blue eyes and red and yellow striped hair.

“She’s…she’s dead,” wept Oriana.

As she said it, she felt herself choke. Her voice had shifted tone, and she suddenly became aware of an unbearable pain in her chest- -and then the world began to change. The dim, hazy view of the hallways surrounding her shifted and shimmered as changed, and Oriana looked down at Miranda.

“Mir- -Miranda, hold on!” she said. “I- -I need medigel!”

“It’s too late,” said Miranda. She coughed, and blood trickled out of her mouth. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you…”
“Don’t say that! It’s going to be okay!”

Miranda gasped, and reached up, grabbing Oriana. “At least…you are safe. That’s all I ever wanted. Cerberus…they took everything from me. Every chance I had at life. Everything I ever wanted for you.”

“Mir…Miranda?” Oriana was not sure why this felt so familiar- -so much more real than what should have been happening. “I don’t understand…”

“Please, don’t ever understand. What they made me…” Her eyes widened, and she grasped Oriana’s shoulder tightly. She smiled through the pain. “I failed, Oriana. I failed. I wish I could have been there…for you…but you’re going to have to go on without me.”

“Miranda!” Oriana took her sister’s hand.

“Please…don’t become like me. Don’t let Cerberus take you. Don’t ever stop fighting. Live your life. Have friends, fall in love, do what makes you happy. Be free. Please…please, Oriana. Promise me you can do this…”

“I- -I promise!”

Miranda smiled. “Thank…you…”

Her eyes suddenly lost focus, and her grip went limp. Once again, Oriana watched as her sister died in her arms.

Oriana shot awake, screaming. Immediately she became aware of the pain in her head, as though it were being split apart- -and of one of her arms pointing upward into the air, a hole cut into the deck above it.

Gasping for breath, Oriana sat up, clutching her head. Her mind was racing, and she felt confused- -but things were coming together. Crystalizing in her consciousness. Memories and timelines that should not have made sense but somehow did.

She stood up and pulled on her jumpsuit. As she did, she paused, her eyes lingering on the white fabric and the orange Cerberus symbol in the center. It was more modern, but it was almost the same. The same as the bloodied and torn uniform that her sister had worn twenty three years earlier on that day.

The 192 was in its night cycle, or the closest thing it had to a night cycle. The lights were mostly out, and the hallways were dark- -but they were always dark. Bob did not like bright lights, and Oriana felt like she had been in the dark for so long that she could hardly remember what proper light looked like.

Her high-heeled boots clicked against the floor unevenly as she walked, meandering through the otherwise silent hallways. She was not sure how long she walked, or where exactly she was going. Her headache had slowed, but at the same time, she had become increasingly confused. As if nothing around her was real.

Toward the lower deck, she stopped. Beside her was a window, and Oriana realized that she had arrived at the medical bay. She pressed her hand against the window and looked inside. Through the glass, she could see the occupants inside, lit by the dim glow of the machines keeping Four alive.

Seven was no longer in her own bed. She had only undergone the first part of her surgery, and a substantial portion of her horn had been cut away. Despite her rear legs being entirely paralyzed, though, Seven had crossed the room and now lay curled at the foot of her sister’s bed.

Oriana stared at this scene for a long moment, watching them sleep. Then she pulled herself away from the window and started down the hall. Things were becoming clearer- -so much horribly clearer.

She stumbled, and a hand with enormously long and thin fingers emerged from the darkness, grabbing her shoulder to stabilize her.

“Bjorn,” said Oriana, “where is Bob? I need to see her. NOW.”

A repeated clanging sound emanated from one of the lower holds as Oriana approached. It would almost always be followed by low swearing. Bob, it seemed, slept precious little. Or she was nocturnal. Oriana was not sure, nor did she care.

Entering the room, Oriana found Bob standing in the center completely naked. One of her arms- -the one injured in the battle on the orbital mining platform- -had now been entirely replaced with an almost oversized robotic version that looked like it had been pulled off of a geth.

In that hand, Bob was holding a bizarrely shaped gold-colored knife. The sound of metal clanging was from her attempting to throw the knife up in the air and catch it. She would inevitably fail, and the knife would clatter to the ground. Even as Oriana entered the room, Bob continued to do this.

“Damn it,” she said, picking up the knife again. She poked one of the hoses that connected the robotic arm to her torso with an extended index finger. “The reaction speed is damn low. I HATE having to use this thing. Why the hell do they ALWAYS go for my damn arm? What did my arm ever do to them?”

“Bob…”

“You like it?” Bob raised the blade. “It’s made entirly out of unobtanium. Or at least that’s what they told me. Apparently, its ceremonial or something. Nobody’s sure because I dropped a biological weapon on the planet where its creators used to live. But I must have been high as FUCK because I don’t remember- -”

“Bob!”

Bob looked up, and her eyes narrowed. Oriana could tell that Bob had known something was wrong from the moment they had seen each other- -perhaps even before. “What do you want? Because I’m not into girls.”

“My sister,” said Oriana. “How did she die?”

“That’s what you came to ask me? You already know that. She got penetrated by Kai Leng.” Bob threw the knife into the air. “Something you Lawsons excel at, apparently.” She grabbed the hilt of the knife out of the air. “Hey! I got it that time!”

“When she died, she asked me to join Cerberus. To continue the work she failed to complete. Except that she DIDN’T. Did she?”

Bob was holding the knife by its tip, about to throw it up in the air again- -but stopped. She blinked at Oriana, and then threw her head back. “Fuuuuuuuuck,” she said.

Oriana’s gaze hardened, and she knew. She wanted to pummel the stinking, ugly degenerate in front of her- -but she refrained, instead balling her fists. “You knew?”

“Knew what?”

“Don’t toy with me, Robette!” snapped Oriana, charging one of her fists with enough biotic energy to cause any object in the room that was not bolted to the deck to start to slide toward her. “Unless you want me to disconnect your head from your body.”

“Just calm down,” said Bob, rather nonchalantly. “Damn it, they warned me that this would happen- -”

“WHAT would happen? What do you know, Robette? TELL ME!”

“Just chill, DAMMIT!” Bob sighed again, then groaned and leaned against a large crate. “You’re right. At least probably. I don’t know, I wasn’t there. But Cerberus may have…eh…tweaked your memory a little bit.”

“What did you do to me?!”

Bob’s eyes narrowed. “Me? You think I actually had anything to do with this?”

“But you KNEW!”

“Of course I knew. I know a lot of things! Like that every other cell was terrified to work with you for exactly this reason. That your motivation is backward and tenuous? I know that too.”

“What did they do to me?” whispered Oriana.

“Well, as near as I can figure, they captured you at some point. Then they rewrote your memory. I hear there was screaming involved. There’s supposed to be a chip in your head that keeps you sane. Looks like it broke.”

“The blast,” said Oriana, feeling the spot in her chest where the alien creature’s biotics had hit her barely twenty four hours before. Her hand ran to her head. “They burnt it out…”

“It certainly looks that way.” Bob pushed herself off of the crate and slowly approached Oriana. “But it’s okay. We can fix this.”

“FIX? I’m not broken!”

“Aren’t you? Because you seemed a lot happier when your life had meaning.”

“Meaning? They stole- -oh dear God, they must have- -” Oriana felt as though she was choking. “Twenty years- -TWENTY YEARS! They stole my life!”

“A life up until a few minutes ago you enjoyed. For some reason. That’s what I’m saying.” Bob stepped closer, and motioned for Oriana to lower her charged hand. Oriana hesitated, and then lowered it slowly. “We can deal with this. Together.” Bob was using the same tone she did when she spoke to her daughters, and Oriana found it somewhat calming. “We can take you back to a Cerberus HQ. They can fix the chip, make this whole thing go away. You can get your ideology back. Go back to protecting Earth and the weak and innocent and whatever.”

“You want- -you can’t be serious!”

Bob suddenly frowned, and raised the knife. She was holding it by the blade and pointed the base of the hilt at Oriana’s head. “Now, listen,” she said, her voice slow and methodical and her tone drastically changed. “I work for Cerberus, but I’m only in it for the money. So I’m willing to offer you a choice. Let us help you, or not. It’s simple, but make very, very sure that you understand the choice you’re making. Am I clear?”

Oriana looked Bob square in the eye. “NO.”

Bob moved almost instantly. Oriana tried to react, raising her hands to defend herself, but Bob was far faster than an ordinary human. Oriana felt an impact against her forehead, and her body suddenly went limp. There was a strange cracking sound and a distant pain as Bob turned the blade and then pulled it out, leaving Oriana to fall to the floor.

“Wrong answer,” she said, licking the blood and residual brain matter off the blade.

The last thing Oriana saw was the eyes. Several pairs of enormous violet eyes descending upon her. Their sharp teeth as they emerged from the shadows, their pony lips salivating with the thought of a fresh meal. Bob knelt down beside them, bearing her own teeth, and she and her daughters descended. The last thing Oriana felt before the world faded to black was their teeth sinking into her flesh, tearing pieces of her away, killing her just as Cerberus had killed her sister so many years ago.

Chapter 28: War on the Citadel

Another artificial day had risen on the Citadel, and Falare’s boots clicked on the floor as she walked beneath the projected sky of the Presidium Ring. Behind her, walking in formation and in unison, were the white fillies and colts that she had almost come to think of as her own children. At her side walked Rarity.

“So, if I’m understanding correctly,” said Rarity, introspectively looking back at Livela, the eldest of the small Pegasi and the leader of the formation, “you see them as ponies, like me?”

“Yes,” said Falare. “I don’t know why I would not.”

“But…the color.”

“Is that how you differentiate them? What of Pegasi born naturally with those colors?”

“That is remarkably rare but…” Rarity frowned. “I suppose that could cause some difficulties. I wouldn’t be able to tell.”

“And as for their color, they are white. So are you.”

“Yes, I am, but- -I’m a unicorn! It’s different!”

Falare stopped. Her formation stopped behind her, and she turned around. She considered for a moment, and then reached down and picked up the smallest of the colts, Dulven. He did not resist, but rather looked up at Falare with wide eyes and a smile on his face.

“Look,” said Falare, holding the colt in front of Rarity. “Does he not look like a pony child?”

“But the red eyes- -”

“Ignoring that. Pretend you don’t know where he came from. Judging him- -judging them- -from what they are now, not where they came from. What would you say?”

Rarity considered for a moment.

“Hello Lady Rarity,” said Dulven. “I hope you are having a wonderful day! I currently being adorable, and nopony can stop me!”

“Aww,” said Rarity. “They’re so cute when they’re little.” She paused while Falare returned Dulven to the company of his siblings. “But…I suppose if I try, I can see it your way. I don’t know if you’re right, but…if you are, I’m a terrible pony, aren’t I?”

“If you can realize that possibility, then no. No you aren’t.”

They stopped at a large window and looked out until they were approached from behind.

“Falare?” said a familiar voice. Falare turned to see Garrus. He looked tired and disheveled, no doubt having slept in his office for several nights in a row.

“Hello, Garrus,” said Falare.

“You look…amazing.”

“I look how I always look.” Despite her chilly response, though, Falare knew what he meant. One of her hands brushed the front collar of her dress. She had always worn the same clothes, an artifact of her days locked away in a convent- -but for the first time since she had been a girl, she actually felt pretty. Like a real asari. “But…Rarity was kind enough to make me this dress and the jewelry.”

“It’s amazing work,” said Garrus, trying to compliment Rarity. She just turned away from him, pointing her nose into the air.

“Hmf!” she said, loudly.

“Ambassador?”

“Excuse me if I am not prepared to converse with the man who made an adulteress out of me,” she said, coldly.

“Adulteress? What are you- -” Garrus cringed. “Look, Rarity, Falare, I’m sorry, I know I screwed up. Hard. But- -”

Falare took him by the shoulder. “Livela? Stay with Ms. Rarity. I need to speak with Councilor Vakarian. Alone.”

“Yes, Ms. Falare,” replied Livela. The small formation of Pegasi fluttered out of her way as she led Garrus away.

“Falare, I’m sorry,” said Garrus. “I’m an idiot, and I wasn’t thinking.”

“No. You were thinking. But you are an idiot.” Falare stopped dragging him and sighed. “But I’m not entirely blameless. It was wrong of me to assert possession over you. I don’t own you. You are your own man, and you can make whatever choices you want. Regardless of how moronic and hurtful they are.”

“So…forgiveness?”

“NO. Not at all. Possibly not ever. Not for what you did, both to me and Rarity. That was wrong, and you know it.”

Garrus sighed. “Yeah. I know.”

“And I can’t overlook that. But I can see beyond it. And look to the future, and to the remainder of your actions and personality.”

“So…you’re giving me a second chance?”

“More than that. But before I continue, I need to preface my further statements.” Falare paused, and looked nervous. Garrus had never seen her like that. “I had a blood test performed this morning. The results are inconclusive, but…there is a very high probability that I am pregnant.”

Garrus’s numerous jaw appendages dropped open. “Preg…but…how…what? WHAT?”

Falare nodded. “By…her.” She looked over her shoulder at Rarity, who was interacting extremely awkwardly with the breeder Pegasi surrounding her.

“You- -what- -how- -you Kirked the pony!” Garrus continued to sputter. “But- -she’s still alive!”

“I know. I believe this is what the humans would refer to as a miracle.”

“And does she know?”

“Not yet. I don’t think she needs to, not immediately. But you need to.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because you need to know. To preface my proposal.”

“Proposal? Of what?”

Falare raised one eyebrow. “Proposal. As in MY proposal. To you.”

“To me? Falare, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You are that thick, aren’t you? Garrus, here.” Falare reached into a fold in her dress and produced a small box. She flicked it open, revealing a silvery ring inside with a large deep blue gemstone.”

Garrus looked at it stupidly. “Um…” Then his eyes widened, and looked at Falare. “You mean- -Oh, THAT kind of proposal.” She chuckled, but then became deathly serious as he realized the implications. “THAT kind of proposal…”

Falare managed to smile through her nervousness. “Yes.”

Garrus looked at the ring, and then back at Falare. “But the Council- -”

“I’ve already written my resignation letter. I intend to tender it after the Equestrian negations terminate.”

“But your position- -”

“Never really was for me. I want to return to activism. For the Ardat-Yakshi. Rarity has spent a considerable amount of time explaining what Equestria has to offer. Their knowledge of biotics is centuries- -no, millennia ahead of even what the asari know. I think, with their help, we might even be able to find a cure.”

“A cure? You mean…”

“I can’t promise anything,” said Falare. “You need to know that. Even if a cure is possible, it might not be available for several of your lifetimes. But…”

Garrus took her hand. “I don’t care. I’ll give it a shot.”

“Is…is that a yes?”

Garrus smiled, and then leaned forward and kissed her. When they were finished, Falare knew the answer- -and looked back to see Rarity blotting her eyes with a tissue as she and the smaller ponies watched on.

Something felt wrong, though. Falare winced as a strange sensation passed through her head. It was like a buzzing- -or a voice. She closed her eyes for a moment and pressed her fingers to the space between her eyes.

“Falare?” said Garrus, sounding genuinely concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, Garrus, I just…” Falare opened her eyes and trailed off. They were no longer alone. Standing beside Garrus was a pulsating blue mass, particles rendering themselves into a humanoid shape. Even incomplete, Falare immediately knew who she was seeing. Despite the changes, he was the same as he had been that day on Lesuss so long ago.

“Benefactor,” she said in awe.

“Benefactor? What?”

Falare was confused. “But- -”

“He can’t see me, Falare,” said the Benefactor, his voice echoing upon itself in her mind. “I am communicating with you through your Reaper implants. Please tell Garrus that. He might not get it otherwise.”

“It’s the Benefactor…I can see him.”

“Where?” Garrus’s tone had changed. Falare had always been somewhat impressed with the Benefactor, but from the shift in Garrus’s voice, it was apparent that he felt differently. He sounded the way he did when something very bad was about to happen. “Can he hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Yes,” said Falare.

“You would show up right now. What is it?”

“There has been a problem. I dispatched my fleet to the Crystal Galaxy but encountered…resistance.”

“Something has gone wrong,” relayed Falare.

“I lost several ships.”

“Several ships were destroyed.”

“No. Not destroyed. They are no longer in my possession.”

“Not in your possession- -how is that even possible?”

“Their core programming was overwritten. By Reaper technology.”

“But you are the Reapers. How could- -”

“Falare,” groaned Garrus. “I can’t hear his part of the conversation. What is going on?”

“I did not anticipate this,” said the Benefactor. “I messed up. Badly.”

“I don’t- -”

The Benefactor turned his head sharply, sending particles drifting throughout the immediate area before they swirled back to his body. “It’s too late. The mass relay has been activated. I can’t- -I can’t stop them.” He turned back to Falare and his features resolved into those of the human he had once been. “Falare, they’re coming. Get Garrus to safety. Evacuate the Citadel. I’m sending help, but I need time to reverse the dormancy cycle.”

“Falare?” demanded Garrus. “I need to know!”

Falare blinked, and the Benefactor was gone. As if to punctuate her point, something struck the Citadel. There was no vibration, at first. Just a distant thud, the slightest vibration through the layers and layers of metal. Then the floor rocked as something hit closer.

“What the- -”

Falare grabbed Garrus by the shoulder, steadying him. “Garrus, we’re under attack.”

“Attack? By- -” Garrus’s omnitool sprung open, displaying data from throughout the Citadel. A static-filled voice echoed through it. In the background was the sound of screams and weaponsfire.

“Councilor, this is Vlox of C-sec! We’ve got incursion- -and the ships, outside…by the gods…its’ the Reapers…”

“Reapers? This is Vakarian, C-sec, clarify, did you say Reapers?”

The only response was a sound of metal slashing through something organic, and a gurgling sound before the communication dropped out.

“Damn it!” cried Garrus. “That bastard- -”

“It isn’t him,” said Falare. “He was warning us. An external force has taken control of them.” She twirled around, crossing the room quickly to Rarity’s side. The pony looked afraid, and so did the young Pegasi. From out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rarity’s mercenary hanar approach, simultaneously drawing an assault rifle, a shotgun, and a pistol.

“Honorable Madame Rarity,” he said. “This one’s information indicates that the Citadel is currently under attack.”

“Attack- -by- -by what?” cried Rarity, sounding on the verge of panic.

“Unknown. And irrelevant. This one’s only task now is to get you to a safe place.” The optics of his armor focused past Rarity at Falare and Garrus. “Councilors. This one supposes it will also attempt to defend you as well.”

“Right,” said Garrus, pulling an pistol out of his clothing and activating his shield. “I’ll take the lead.”

“This one is quite honored to fight alongside the honorable hero Garrus Vakarian,” admitted Si’y.

One of the young Pegasi tugged at Falare’s robes. “Ms. Falare? Is something happening?”

“Yes, it is,” said Falare, picking up the frightened filly. “Don’t worry. We’re going to be okay.”

Rarity’s eyes suddenly widened. “But my sister- -Oh Celestia, what about Sweetie Belle?”

Far away on the Citadel, Sweetie Belle groggily awoke to a commotion.

“What?” she said, trying to bend her pillow over her head. “What the buck, it’s not even noon yet…”

Despite her best attempts at willing the sound to go away, she could not manage to go back to sleep. She groaned loudly and then threw the sheets off her bed. Halfway down the mattress, Jade Wing stirred, wincing at the cold and tightening his body into an even tighter ball of crystal.

“Oh, come on,” said Sweetie Belle, kicking him lightly. “How can you sleep through that?”

“I managed to sleep with you next to me,” he muttered. “I think I can sleep through just about anything at this point. Or so I thought.” He stood up and stretched on the bed as Sweetie Belle jumped off.

“Just when I barely got to sleep…” she yawned.

“You’ve been asleep for close to ten hours. You snore.”

“And you don’t have genitals.”

“So? I’m a crystal pony. That’s normal. And what the hay does that have to do with anything?”

Sweetie Belle just grumbled, and was about to produce a creative retort when something loud thumped outside the door. It stopped, and then thumped again more loudly.

“Buck,” said Sweetie Belle. “Whatever they are doing out there- -of course, Rarity would get assigned the WORST room. Probably because the drapes match the carpet or something stupid like that.”

She stomped over to the door, and she was about to throw it open when it was suddenly knocked inward. Sweetie Belle barely managed to dodge the collapsing metal as a krogan was thrown into the room, locked in combat with some kind of horrifying creature.

“You think that hurt?” cried the krogan, laughing. The creature reared up and slammed one of its scythe-like front limbs at the krogan, not seeming to realize that the blade had been broken off. The krogan, meanwhile, reached into his boot and removed a long serrated knife which he promptly plunged into the creature’s neck again and again. Black fluid poured out onto the floor, and the creature took a step back in shock. This gave the krogan the chance he needed. He stood up and slammed his head into the creature’s, disorienting it long enough for him to get his arms around its neck and twist its head around. The creature convulsed and collapsed.

By this point, the krogan was somewhat out of breath. “Wow. Out of shape. Too many donuts.” At about that time he noticed the two ponies staring up at him. “Oh,” he said. “Sorry about the door.” He produced a holographic badge. “I’m with C-sec.”

“What the HAY WAS THAT?” squealed Sweetie Belle.

The krogan looked down at the creature, which was now trying to pull itself awkwardly toward the door, its dislocated head lolling on one side. The krogan drew an enormous pistol and unloaded an entire thermal clip into it. “Don’t know,” he said, ejecting the burning clip and replacing it. “Don’t care. But they’re damn everywhere. The Citadel’s been invaded.”

“Invaded?” squeaked Wing.

“Did I stutter? Come on.”

“Come on?” cried Sweetie Belle. “What do you mean ‘come on’? Out there? What if there’s more of them?”

“Not if. There are. And my orders are to evacuate this block. And, guess what? You’re the only survivors.” He looked toward the door. “But we’re gonna have to hurry. There’s a contingent of drell holding the exits, but they’re not going to last long. Drell look tough, but they’re damn squishy on the inside.” The krogan kicked the still moving corpse of the creature out of his way. “Or stay. But you’ll be missing out. This is gonna be a goooooood fight.”

Sweetie Belle and Wing looked at each other- -and they found themselves following the krogan into the hall outside the room.

“Oh buck,” said Wing, looking around them.

The floor was littered with the bodies of the creatures- -and other ones, too. The walls were pitted with bullet holes and char marks. From the distance, a sound was approaching. Sweetie Belle could not place it at first, but as it drew closer, she realized that it was the sound produced by something clicking against the floor. Not one thing, either. It sounded like there were a great many.

“Damn,” said the krogan. “This is about to get hairier than a human female. The pretty ones, at least.” He reached down into the corpses and wrestled a pistol from the hands of a dead salarian. “Here,” he said, throwing it to Sweetie Belle. “You’re probably going to need this.”

Sweetie Belle caught the pistol in her magic. “How am I supposed to use this thing? I can’t use this!” She threw it to Wing. He did not even move to catch it; it instead rebounded off his side.

He looked at the weapon, and then at her. “I don’t have magic. Or fingers. What am I supposed to do with this?”

“You’re supposed to be some kind of soldier, aren’t you?! Soldier!”

“I’m a PILOT. I fly ships! I’m not cleared for groundfighting- -and even then, without my suit, I don’t have any weapons!”

“Well then what good are you?”

“We’re about to find out,” said the krogan as a formation of the pale, diseased looking creatures burst around the hallway, their silvery dead eyes suddenly focusing on the ponies and lizard thing waiting for them.

“My quad feels tickly,” said the krogan. “Just wanted to point that out.” He then pointed at the creatures. “We’re going that way. See if you can keep up, little horses.”

Up until that point, Sweetie Belle had lived a relatively privileged life. As an all-white unicorn, she was given special precedence in Equestrian society. In addition, her sister was a wealthy dressmaking tycoon and ambassador. Sweetie Belle had never fought in a battle, or even experienced any real violence or crime.

That had all changed suddenly, and Sweetie Belle found herself surrounded by automatic weaponsfire and dying aliens, trudging and sprinting through gore and remnants of things that she increasingly came to see as a variety of pony.

Of all the aliens to be protected by, though, the krogan was as close to ideal as possible. Of course, on some level Sweetie Belle would have preferred Si’y, largely out of familiarity, but even then the hanar seemed squishy and lacking in durability. The krogan were quite the opposite, to the point where the vigor with which this particular alien engaged his enemies moved well beyond beneficially practical and well into the territory of terrifying. He seemed to enjoy what he was doing, taking pleasure in blowing holes in the oncoming creatures with a variety of heavy-looking weapons or skewering them on bayonets. Watching him kill, Sweetie Belle felt safe- -but with every death could feel herself becoming increasingly traumatized.

The fighting cleared relatively quickly, though. It did not seem like there were all that many enemies, and they moved unpredictably and in waves. There were still the sounds, though. Distant explosions, the thumps of weaponsfire, and occasionally shouts or screams.

Sweetie Belle tried to block these sounds out as she followed the krogan. They had progressed several levels lower in the Citadel, and Sweetie Belle found herself amongst the shops she had spent so much time in just days earlier. Where they had once been thriving, they were now silent. No one was present in the street, and the stores were abandoned. Some of their wears were strewn through the street, and in a few places, Sweetie Belle thought she saw various liquids that might have been alien blood slowly flowing across the floor.

“I don’t like this,” said Wing.

“If you did like this, you would be insane.”

“I like this,” said the krogan. “It’s real fun. Not nearly as fun as pulping those Cerberus bastards back in the War, though. I liked that a lot more.”

As they passed a store, the unnerving stillness of the empty promenade was suddenly broken. The air in front of one of the stores flickered and distorted with orange light, and a figure appeared. Sweetie Belle ducked, covering her head, and the krogan raised his weapon, only to lower it again.

“Damn it,” he said.

The hologram looked around, and then focused on the group. He smiled, and Sweetie Belle saw the image was a representation of a type of alien that she had not seen before.

It spoke. “I’m Commander Shepard, and this is my FAVORITE store on the Citadel!”

“I don’t have time for this,” said the krogan, passing through the hologram.

“But we’re having a sale,” it said, turning to face him. “Fifty percent off our entire stock of ocean bacon.”

The krogan stopped suddenly, and Sweetie Belle could have sworn she saw him shaking. If he really was, though, he stopped almost immediately and slowly turned toward the hologram.

“Are…are you okay?” asked Sweetie Belle. She felt herself taking a step back, because she instinctively knew that something was wrong. His face seemed to have gone completely blank.

“Yes,” muttered the krogan.

“And this will be our final sale,” said the hologram.

“Right,” said the krogan. “Right…”

He just stood still for a long moment, and then Wing spoke. “I have an idea,” he said.

“Is it a good idea?” asked Sweetie Belle.

“All my ideas are good ideas. I’ve done some scouting, and this area isn’t far from where they’re keeping my ship.”

“Your ship? I thought I was your ship.”

“Not that kind of ship. MY ship.”

“You mean the one that got completely shattered when you crashed it into the Citadel?”

Wing frowned at her. “Yes. That one.”

“Do you think it will fly?”

“Fly? No, of course not. I crashed it. Without the central computer it would be impossible to fly anyway. But I don’t think the communication resonator is damaged.”

“You want to call for help.”

“No. I want to call for an emergency tactical teleport.”

“Teleport? At this range? Is that even possible?”

“It would be difficult but not beyond the Living Goddess’s capabilities, should she choose to take pity on us.”

“Wait- -so the choice comes down to CADENCE? The Dark Lord of the Crystal Galaxy, the Architect of Death herself?”

“Yes. Of course. She’s the one doing the teleportation.”

“You’ve got to be kidding!”

“I’m not. This sector is largely safe because it only has five main outlets- -but it only has five main outlets. I have no tactical support, no scanning equipment, I have no idea what’s going on- -but I know that there’s going to be a lot of those things waiting for us on the other side.”

“I’ll take you there,” muttered the krogan, distantly. He turned around, and started walking.

“Huh,” said Wing. “I guess I’m more charismatic than I thought.”

His self-adulation was interrupted by a sound of something large being moved ahead of them. Sweetie Belle looked up to see a large overturned piece of vending equiptment being picked up and moved by a magical field. From behind it, a heavily armored unicorn approached.

Sweetie Belle smiled, and took a step forward- -until she saw the expression on that mare’s face, and the fact that she was followed by a horde of the sewn creatures. The unicorn mare’s blank looking eyes scanned the area, and then narrowed on Sweetie Belle.

“Heretics,” she spat. “All those who deny the divinity of Lady Sunset will perish! We will- -”

There was a snap as her head was knocked backward, and she crumpled into a heap. Sweetie Belle turned sharply to where the sound had come from, and saw the krogan standing, his weapon raised- -and face devoid of any expression whatsoever. No remorse, no regret, not even the joy at a perfect kill.

“She- -she was a PONY!” exclaimed Sweetie Belle. “How could you- -”

“I will take you there,” he repeated, advancing on the creatures and opening fire. “I will…take you there…”

Garrus had seen a lot of things in his nearly sixty years of life. Never in all that time- -even during the greatest conflict in galactic memory, perhaps the greatest conflict since there had even been turians- -had he seen a militarily competent hanar. That was supposed to be a joke, an ironic parody- -like the action hero Blasto. Hanar were supposed to be a bunch of stodgy poets with a weird drell fetish. Si’y was not one of those hanar.

For a moment, Garrus felt like he was back in his glory days. The sound of weapons firing, the feel of the recoil in his hands, the thrill of combat- -they were all things he remembered, and things that came back to him so easily. The only difference was that this time, instead of following Shepard’s lead, he WAS the lead.

Si’y was an obvious soldier, and provided the cover fire Garrus needed to push forward. Falare maintained the rear, protecting Rarity and the smaller ponies with her. This did not leave her much of a chance to join in on the combat, but that was acceptable. Despite her level of biotic power, Falare was not a soldier. She never had been. She could serve a much more important function by keeping Rarity- -who was on the verge of hysterics- -from spooking and bolting down a random corridor in a panic.

“On your left!”

Si’y turned and unloaded his shotgun into an attacking creature’s chest. At the same time, he fired several pistol rounds into its head. Garrus fired several shots into the creature behind it, dropping it as it tried to crawl over the remnants of its comrade.

“I have some extra clips,” said Garrus. “You need to reload.”

“No. This one does not.” Si’y directed his rifled down the long corridor and mowed down several of the creatures along with a pair of enemy Pegasi. “This one holds a strong preference toward recooled weapons.”

“Recoolers? Nobody’s used those in decades- -I didn’t think they still made them. In this one’s opinion, the develop of thermal clips sent weapons design backward by at least a century.” Without breaking the calm tone of his hanar voice, Si’y charged forward and grabbed a struggling creature, holding it long enough for Garrus to put a polonium round between its eyes.

Garrus flicked the reload switch on his pistol and the smoking thermal clip ejected. He put in a new one, and then reached down to the ground, picking up an assault rifle from the remains of a C-sec officer who had not been as fortunate as they now were. “Hey,” he said to the hanar beside him. “Have you ever considered applying for a position as a Spectre?”

“A Spectre? This one has always been in awe of the position, and it has never considered itself worthy.”

“You are rescuing two Citadel Councilors, an ambassador, and a group of children,” said Falare from behind them. “That is not an unimpressive feat.”

“Consider it a job offer,” said Garrus. “If we live through this, think it over.”

Si’y paused, his optics turned toward Garrus in disbelief. “The device that converts this one’s bioluminescence into audible speech is not capable of more than a polite monotone, but under this armor, I am squealing with joy like a stuck asari. With no offense intended to the honorable and extremely ravishing asari Councilor.”

“Can…can this wait?” said Rarity. “Can we just get out of here?”

“Out where?” said Garrus. They were quickly passing a window, and even he took pause at the sight outside. “Look.”

Outside, the entire sky had become a battlefield. Every ship in the Citadel’s defense entourage was pouring weaponsfire into a group of ships, and more were arriving every second from every part of the galaxy. Their enemies, of course, were all-too familiar to Garrus: black ships, highlighted with orange-violet light, their hulls more like insects or crustaceans than any sane ship design.

“Twenty five years ago, it took every ship we had to barely slow Sovereign down,” said Garrus. “And he was just ONE Reaper.”

“But twenty five years have passed,” said Si’y. “Our weapons have come so far.”

“And that is the only reason why we’re still alive.”

“But then…then where are we going to go?” cried Rarity. “If we can’t- -if we can’t go through that- -”

Garrus did not answer, at least not at first. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m going to keep you safe. I’m going to keep us all safe.”

That promise quickly came into question, though, as the group was forced to move through what had up until that point functioned as a large park. Now, it had become a battlefield. All around, soldiers were rushing across the field, dodging and falling behind cover. Biotic blasts were erupting on all sides, both from the enemy and from the few asari who had taken up the fight. It also appeared that the enemy was adapting. From the few that Garrus could see slowly crawling across the walls or through the remains of the formerly beautiful trees, they now had weapons.

The creatures and ponies immediately concentrated fire on Garrus. His sheild absorbed the first few hits, but just before it failed, Falare stepped forward. She raised one of her hands, projecting a biotic barrier.

“Cover,” she said. “Now.”

Garrus ducked, as did the others, hiding behind rocks and the remnants of a fallen statue. Falare moved much more calmly, deflecting all incoming projectiles until she could join Garrus behind the base of the statue. Rarity, the Pegasi, and Si’y remained near its broken torso- -with Si’y seamlessly continuing to unload his unlimited supply of bullets at random in the enemy’s general direction.

Where Garrus had taken cover, there were two turians currently engaged with the enemy. One was a C-Sec officer, while the other appeared to be a member of the turian military.

“Councilor!” said the nearest of them. “What- -what are you doing here?”

“The situation,” demanded Garrus.

“We’re losing. Badly. But we have to hold this position. This is the last barrier between them and the sector evacuation corridor- -if we fail here, they’ll take the civilians- -”

“You need to get to that evacuation channel,” said the other turian, who was firing from around the statue base. Garrus noticed that he was bleeding heavily from a wound in his shoulder. “If we lose you- -”

“Falare, can you cover Rarity and get her to the escape route?”

“I can,” she said. “But if I’m blocking, I can’t attack. And…I don’t think this position is going to hold.”

“At this rate, no,” said one of the turian soldiers. “We’ll give you as much time as we can, though.”

“Damn,” said Garrus, opening his omnitool and beginning to enter information. “I never thought I would have to use this damn thing. I hope it works…”

“Garrus? What are you doing?”

“If we’re getting pushed, we push back. HARD.”

“With what? All our forces are engaged.”

“Not all of them,” sighed Garrus. He finished the code and closed his omnitool.

“What did you just do?”

“You know vas’Geth?”

“Locutus? The former quarian? What does she have to do with this?”

“The geth helped design the Citadel’s new defenses. She left us a present.”

A small explosion ricocheted off the statue base, sending fragments of Thessian marble flying in every direction. Garrus heart Rarity cry out in terror. Garrus looked around the statue base, and saw the creatures advancing. A new force had arrived. The new versions were much larger, with horns emerging from their heads and projecting spheres of fiery orange energy to defend their advancing brethren. The ordinary small-arms of the defending soldires were no longer adequate in the slightest.

“COUNCILORS!” cried the turian soldier beside Garrus. “You need to get out of here! NOW!”

Before Garrus could argue, the battle suddenly slowed. The creatures stepped back, seemingly confused. They were sensing something that Citadel forces could not- -until it got closer. The ground shook, but not with the violence of an explosion. There was not just one sudden surge of sound- -instead, the deck of the Citadel shook repeatedly every few seconds.

“Garrus,” said Falare, “you didn’t…”

“I did.”

There was a sudden crunching sound as the remnants of the nearest trees were pulled from their roots by an enormous metal claw. Garrus suddenly found himself staring up at a fifteen-meter high geth prime tearing its way through the park.

“Oh wow,” he said. “I didn’t realize that it was THAT big.”

The geth turned its single, glowing eye toward the alien creatures below it.

“Engaging tactical assessment,” it boomed. “Quarian threat detected. Initiating directive 7395: destroy all quarians!”

Its central eye suddenly ignited with light, and then erupted with a particle beam. Garrus covered his face, but he could still feel the heat as the beam shot across the expanse of the park. There was a popping sound as the enemy’s shields collapsed. Once the beam had stopped, Garrus looked over his damaged cover and saw the land in ruins, charred to the now molten deck below. Surrounding it were the singed skeletons of the enemy forces, as well as anyone who had happened to be too close.

The geth prime began to walk forward. “Galactic democracy is non-negotiable. Quarian tyranny will fall!”

The turian soldiers looked up wide-eyed as the immense geth stepped over them, continuing to engage the few remaining enemies below.

“Don’t just stand there!” shouted Garrus. “Follow Geth Prime! He’s going to cut us a path out of here!”

“Ri..right.” The turians stood up, and began chasing after the enormous geth as it continued to rain down destruction on perceived “quarians”.

“You just had to wake him up, didn’t you,” muttered Falare.

“Oh come on, when else was I going to get to use the giant robot?”

Falare sighed and shook her head. “Well…I guess we had better keep going.”

From what Sweetie Belle could tell, Wing’s ship had been stored in the basement of the Citadel. It was probably not a real basement, she realized, but it certainly felt like one. It was dark, and the corridors were tight and smelled funny. Even stranger was how empty it was: there were no signs of fighting this far away from civilization.

They approached a door, and Sweetie Belle hesitated when she saw a large, insect-like creature working at an open access panel. At first she thought it was one of the pony-like creatures that were attacking them, but she quickly realized that it was some kind of alien. That did not make her feel any better. She hated bugs.

“A keeper,” explained Wing. “I’ve seen tons of them around.”

“It’s so gross!”

“Yes. And they apparently will try to carry you off in your sleep.”

“Don’t say that!”

The krogan approached the door near the keeper, and the keeper ignored it completely. He raised his hand, and an orange projection formed around it. He pressed this against the control panel for the door, and the door seemed to respond.

“C-sec access codes, recognized,” said a female voice from the door itself. “Access…granted.” There was a mechanical sound from within the door. “Have a nice day, officer.”

The krogan seemed to stare into the blackness of the open door for a moment, as though he had not realized it had opened. Then, slowly, he stepped in.

“I don’t like this,” said Sweetie Belle. “Something isn’t right- -hey! Why aren’t you listening to me?!”

Wing was already entering the hanger. Sweetie Belle followed him, largely just to yell at him. That was when she saw the glimmering pile of crystal stacked in the center of the room.

“Wow,” she said, her eyes widening. “It’s so pretty!”

“It’s so broken,” said Wing. He sighed, and then pointed to a metal rack that was supporting his armor. “At least that’s mostly intact. The Archgeneral is probably going to put my head on a plate for this…and she would do it, too. I don’t doubt that for a second.”

The krogan ignored what was going on, and instead walked over to a large computer terminal on one side of the room and began entering data. Sweetie Belle did not read alien, and guessed that it was probably in code, so ignored him like he was ignoring her. Instead, she walked carefully to the fragmented piles of crystal. They seemed to have been stacked by size, and the presence of alien tools and equpitment indicated that the aliens had been studying it.

“It looks like they’ve been trying to reverse engineer it,” said Wing, picking through the crystal around the front and then attempting to pull open the cockpit. “I don’t know why. Their technology is so primitive, they might as well be banging rocks togather. I don’t even think they’ve even figured out how to use magic properly yet, let alone build an actual ship.”

“They have ships,” said Sweetie Belle, eyeing a long piece of crystal that shimmered quite brightly in the light. “I’ve seen them.”

“They have hunks of metal that they’ve strapped primitive explosives into and call an engine. It’s so…unsubtle. And inelegant.”

“Speaking of elegant…” Sweetie Belle picked up a shiny pink and green component that sparkled in exposure to her magic. “It’s scrap, right? So you wouldn’t mind if I…maybe…took some?”

Wing looked at her with mild contempt, but upon seeing what she was holding, took a wide step back. “Yeah, sure. If you like massive doses of radiation. That’s a control peg off the main reactor. I’d put that down. Very, VERY carefully.”

Sweetie Belle looked at the crystal, and then at Wing. She slowly put the crystal down. Wing seemed to accept this, and returned to his rummaging.

As he did, though, Sweetie Belle heard something. It was distant, but she immediately recognized it. Somepony was whistling.

“Wing…” Sweetie Belle looked at him, and then up at the krogan. The krogan was now typing extremely fast, and for a brief moment Sweetie Belle thought she saw a symbol fly by on his screen, a kind of white hexagon- -but what mattered was that he was not whistling either.

“Herrrrratics,” called a stallion’s voice from the hallway outside, speaking with an ominous singsong tone. “I can smellllll you…”

Sweetie Belle felt her blood run cold, and suddenly realized that the krogan had not closed the door behind them.

“Wing!” she squeaked. “I don’t mean to rush you, but you need to HURRY UP RIGHT NOW!”

“I’m trying!” he cried back, also on the verge of panic. “I- -I need time to repair it!”

“How much time!”

“Well- - um- -at this level of damage, factoring in the- -”

“HOW LONG?!”

“Six hours at least!”

An armored stallion poked his head through the open door and smiled. “I found you, little heretics,” he said, bursting into laughter as the silent creatures around him began to crawl into the room, pulling themselves across its walls and ceiling.

“You have about six seconds!” cried Sweetie Belle.

Wing started sobbing. “Oh Cadence, why have you forsaken me?”

The creatures advanced. Their first target was, apparently, the krogan. They attacked him, tearing into him with their claws. Sweetie Belle expected him to do at least something- -but he barely moved. He took the blow, suffering massive injury, and was knocked to the side, only to right himself and redouble his efforts at the computer. Another creature struck him, and a third sunk its teeth into his neck. All the while, he never called out in pain. The expression on his face never changed. He just kept working, even as they impaled him again and again.

One of the creature seemed to notice Sweetie Belle. It turned, slowly, and then sprinted. Sweetie Belle cried out in terror and was pretty sure she felt urine flowing down her rear legs. She projected a shield spell, and the creature reared up and struck the field with its claws. The field shattered, and Sweetie Belle was thrown backward. Crystal rods and fragments went rolling throughout the room, and Sweetie Belle hit something hard.

Suddenly, whatever Sweetie Belle had struck reacted to her presence, closing in around her. She looked up to see Wing’s armor closing around her body, and she screamed, trying to escape. Resisting was useless, though, and within seconds her body was covered in crystal.

“SCREEEE!” she wailed. “Get it off get it off get it off! Wing it- -OOOIII! It’s vibrating! No! Not there!”

“New user detected,” said a voice in Sweetie Belle’s mind. “Filly body type identified. Recalibrating.”

“Recalibrating, what does that- -NO! NO! Don’t recalibrate THOSE, that’s- -oh, buck, that feels so WEIRD!”

As she danced around, trying to get the crystal armor off of herself, the creature that had attacked her pounced. Sweetie Belle screamed as she was knocked over, and she felt its blades strike her again and again, each time rebounding off the crystal that covered her.

“Get OFF!” she screamed, pointing her hoof at it. She felt the crystal shift, drawing an immense amount of magic from her body, and then the creature exploded into a plume of black fluid and blue sparks.

“Groundforce combat recognized,” said the armor. “Diverting emergency power. Linking to basis starship…damage assessment at ninety-two percent. Engating remote reactivation.”

The ship behind Sweetie Belle began to hum, and Wing jumped out of it. “Sweetie Belle, what did you- -MY ARMOR!”

“Diverting auxiliary power,” said the suit. “Weapons systems active at five percent capacity.”

“What?” said Sweetie Belle. “I don’t- -” Another creature leapt at her, and it- -and everything behind it- -was suddenly incinerated by a blast of energy from the ship behind her.

“The weapons- -how did you- -Sweetie Belle, you can’t be in that armor, it isn’t optimized for organics!”

“Tell that to the armor!”

Sweetie Belle fired several more bolts of energy, disintegrating the creatures as they approached. She hesitated when it came to their leader, though, and he seemed to notice this. He spread his wings and raced across the room. Sweetie Belle dodged, addling herself in the process by her unfamiliarity with how much faster the power-assisted suit moved, but she had never been his target. He instead tackled wing.

“Dirty heretic!” cried the stallion. “How dare you? You would stand against our eternal Queen?! TREASON!” He turned Wing over and lifted his tail. “And do you know what happens to TRAITORS?”

“No, wait, I don’t even- -you wouldn’t- -no!”

Sweetie Belle pulled him off by one of his wings and punched him in the face. There was a crack as his jaw shattered, and his eyes glazed as he lost consciousness.

“Are you okay?” she said, picking Wing up. Wing looked up at her with his wide, crystalline eyes, and blushed. “I take it back. You can keep the armor on.”

“Can you salvage the teleport?”

“No. I can’t.”

“Then we need to get out of here. Just follow me.”

Sweetie Belle ran toward the door, but paused at the krogan. He was still weakly typing into the keyboard, even as he slumped to one side, holding his chest but having no effect on the copious amount of yellow-orange fluid that was pouring from his body. Before Sweetie Belle could even offer to help him, he collapsed, clearly dead.

On the screen, Sweetie Belle suddenly realized that a face was looking back at her. An alien with pale skin, blue eyes, and long, blonde hair. He looked at her for a moment, and then the screen went black. The computer promptly sparked, and then burst into flames.

“We need to go,” said Wing. “We can’t do anything for him.”

“Yeah,” said Sweetie Belle. “I know. I know.”

She could not help but feel, though, that she should have been able to do at least something and had somehow failed in acting on that responsibility.

The damage to the Citadel was increasing exponentially. Garrus was keeping a running tab of it, and it was growing increasingly catastrophic. The still unidentified aliens and their pony allies were rampaging throughout the ship, causing mass casualties and damage to nearly everything they encountered. As far as Garrus could tell, though, there were not that many of them. There seemed like a lot because they attacked in groups, but he had a gut feeling that they were only seeing waves, with no mass of soldiers behind them.

Likewise, their goal seemed nebulous. They were not attacking at anything in particular; they were not attempting to take the armory, or docks, or anything like that. Every bit of territory they would take they would just as easily give up for no apparent reason, as if they just liked to prolong the battle. The only area they had actually held was the area they had taken the fastest: the central computer core. An area which, as far as Garrus could tell, they had not damaged in the slightest.

The Reapers outside were not helping. Garrus had largely lost contact with the fleet outside, but every time he passed a window, he saw more ships- -and from time to time, he would feel the Citadel shake as another artillery strike hit.

“Garrus!” shouted Falare as an especially close strike hit, sending Rarity into tears and knocking several of the group of soldiers that surrounded them to the floor. “We have to close the Citadel!”

“We can’t! If we do that, they’re trapped in here with us. We have to keep it open for the backup- -”

“And if backup never comes? If he was lying?”

“It will! I know it will!”

There was a sudden burst of gunfire as a group of enemies rushed forward toward them. The various troops and accumulated civilians took cover, hiding from their blasts of energy and bullets. Some were hit and wounded.

Geth Prime looked down at the approaching monstrosities. “Pro-geth casualties: unacceptable. Overkill protocols authorized.”

The atmosphere suddenly felt electric as his particle beam charged, and Garrus dropped down as the weapon fired, tearing through a city block and immediately vaporizing anything and everything in Geth Prime’s path.

“Democracy will never be defeated!” he proclaimed, not even slowing as he continued to engage the remainder of his opponents by stomping on them almost without noticing. “We will not fear the quarian menace!”

The Citadel shook, and this time not from artillery. The Reapers were not the only source of the massive structural damage that was plaguing it. Geth Prime was immensely destructive, and seemed to care little about what got in his way. Garrus was only happy that they had not needed to pass through an area near a nonpressurized zone; if they had, Geth Prime would no doubt have punctured it without even noticing the atmosphere venting.

The shaking grew more intense, and then suddenly Garrus felt a set of tentacles wrapping around him. “Councilor!” yelled Si’y, pulling Garrus back. “Look out!”

As Garrus was pulled back and thrown to the ground, he saw behind him that most of a building was collapsing. The group of Pegasi near Rarity cried out and huddled together as a large piece of building façade came plummeting toward them. Rarity, who was far enough away to dodge it, instead leapt forward, producing a shield with her magic.

The impact of the material cracked the shield, and it began to collapse, but it held. Rarity showed signs of severe strain and dropped to her knees.

“Go,” she said to the fillies and colts, giving them a chance to escape as the piece of debris continued to drop. They looked up at her, and she saw the terror in their eyes. Not the dumb, unknowing gaze of insentient cattle, but of actual ponies. They were shaking, and too afraid to move. “GO!” she cried as the piece of material dropped another inch.

As if to make matters worth, the unlit streets behind them suddenly seemed to shift- -and things started to move out of it.

“We’ve been flanked!” cried a nearby salarian, directing all the soldiers around him to direct their attention at the new attackers.

Suddenly, the piece of building became much lighter. Rarity, who was on the verge of collapse and sweating profusely, looked up to see a new shield replacing her own. Falare effortlessly moved the piece of debris, and stepped forward into enemy fire, blocking Rarity and the breeders from attack. The enemy bullets rebounded off the field that surrounded her, and she held the piece of building debris out in front of her. With a sickening crack, it suddenly imploded, and Rarity felt space distort as it collapsed from a piece of sandstone and metal nearly the size of her to a dark-colored mass the size of a marble.

Falare directed the point in space toward the oncoming horde and let it fly. It flashed across the intervening space and struck the center of their formation. The explosion was deafening, and Rarity leapt on the terrified fillies and colts beneath her to defend them from the resulting cloud of dust and metal fragments. It felt like the world was ending.

“Go,” said Falare, apparently showing no strain even after producing the rough equivalent of a small nuclear blast. She looked over her shoulder at Garrus. “Get the ambassador and the children to safety. I will defend this point until you are clear.”

“But- -”

Falare looked out at the few wounded creatures that had survived her material singularity, and they immediately lifted into the air, their bodies being pulled apart on a molecular level from a sea of fiery blue light that had suddenly surrounded them. “I have very well controlled anger issues. This will be mildly therapeutic. Do not worry. I will survive.” She focused on the next wave of enemies. “They won’t, though.”

Without bothering to pause, she walked slowly into the enemy. Every one of them near her did, indeed, die. Horribly.

“We can’t just leave her!” cried Rarity.

Garrus looked back at Geth Prime. He was already nearly a hundred meters down the path, and if they did not hurry, they would not be able to reach him again without risking the creatures filling the intervening space and cutting them off. “We have to.”

In the space surrounding the Citadel, the Reapers had yet to claim the Serpent Nebula mass relay. They had initially taken it, only to be forced back by the Destiny Ascension II and the combined forces of the krogan and asari fleets. Now, ships were pouring out from every sector of the galaxy, responding to the distress of the Citadel and the return of the Reapers.

Then, suddenly, the relay stopped. The sensor supervisors of every ship and satellite turned their collective attention to it, not knowing if this was another form of attack. Then the relay began to spin faster, its color changing as it forged a link across the galaxy to a very specific and distant relay.

Then the ships emerged. The largest of them nearly dwarfed the Destiny Ascension II, an abstract-looking ring of spiny metal surrounding a group of parallel forward pylons coated not in metallic armor but a brownish material more like rock than steel. Within seconds, ten Collector ships had arrived, much to the horror of everyone watching.

Instead of attacking the combined fleet, though, the Collectors turned their attention toward the nearest of the Reapers, opening fire with the particle cannons of their mid-sized destroyers. The remainder of them, meanwhile, advanced through the battle toward the Citadel.

Whatever crystal armor was made of- -aside from crystal- -it was hard. Wearing it changed Sweetie Belle’s entire perception of the world. Not only did it improve her senses and reaction time, but it filled her with the confidence that came from near indestructibility. The speed and power were a rush, and she suddenly found that she was beginning to enjoy the fight, for the first time understanding what their unnamed and now deceased krogan guide must have perceived.

The creatures themselves were not exactly easy to fight, but likewise, they did not seem to be adapted themselves to fighting. They were like ants. The majority of them were just workers. They looked threatening, but they had no range attacks and no real weapons. Then there were the large ones- -the unicorns, or the ones that looked like they had been earth ponies who had heavy weapons bolted into their backs.

The hardest part, though, were the ponies. Sweetie Belle did not understand why they were there. Of course, she did not understand who was attacking anyway. She had initially assumed that they were some sect of the Chaos wizards, but the more of them she saw, the more she doubted that. They were something else entirely, and something was very wrong with the ponies that stood alongside the creatures. Their eyes just looked wrong, as if they were barely even awake.

Wing was barely able to keep up. Being substantially smaller than Sweetie Belle, he had to run much faster just to maintain pace.

“Why are you so good at this?” he gasped as they came to an empty intersection.

“How are you winded? You’re made of crystal!”

“It doesn’t mean I don’t need to breathe! Oh…” he stopped gasping for air. “Yes it does. Sorry. But that doesn’t answer the question!”

“I don’t know. I guess I just am. I mean, it’s not that different from a power mecha.”

“Power- -when did you ever get to pilot a MECHA?”

“I got into a lot of trouble when I was younger. Blame Applebloom.” Sweetie Belle raised a hoof and blasted an oncoming formation of creatures into dust. As she did, she suddenly felt dizzy. “Whoa…I don’t feel so good.”

“I tried to warn you. It’s not designed for your biology!”

“I think…oh, I think I’m going to throw up…”

“You had better not!”

“Here,” said Sweetie Belle. “You take the suit. How do I- -”

“NO!” squeaked Wing. “It’s integrated into you. You can’t just take it off!”

“I WHAT? And you didn’t think to tell me that before I put it on?!”

“I TRIED to tell you, you didn’t listen. With the amount of magic you’ve expended so far, taking it off would kill you. There is a procedure, but it will take me time to complete it.”

“Time? How much- -wait a minute. Are you just saying that because you want to undress me?”

“Please. You’re much hotter in the crystal. I’m saying it because that suit isn’t indestructible. It’s not made for combat like this. Look.” Wing pointed at the chest of the armor, which was already starting to crack. “If the suit breaks, it fails. You go into withdrawal. And you don’t have the energy of the Living Goddess to pull you back out of it.”

“Again, you didn’t tell me this BEFORE?”

“We just need to get out of here.”

“Out of here? Where?”

“Where- -I thought I was following you!”

“I don’t know where I’m going!”

“You don’t- -oh crap, behind you!”

Sweetie Belle turned around to see a creature lung at her. She punched it, knocking it back, and immediately felt more sick than she had even moments before.

“Warning,” said the voice in her head. “Host body is approaching depletion.”

“And now it tells me,” said Sweetie Belle. She gritted her teeth and fired another beam of energy into the creature. Its chest blew open, but it barely seemed to notice.

“Oh buck,” said Sweetie Belle, realizing that her weapons power was dropping too. “Oh buck oh buck- -”

The creature leapt on her, digging its claws into her armor. Instead of clawing randomly, though, its silvery eyes shot toward the cracks in her armor. It began to strike them, prying at it, trying to open it to get at the soft and largely unmuscular pony inside.

“Get off her!” cried Wing. He leapt on the creature, biting at its ears. Due to the extended length of the creature’s arms, it could not reach its own neck, and it jumped back, trying to buck Wing off. He screamed, holding on literally for his life.

“Hold on! Just keep it from moving, I’ll shoot it!”

“How in the name of sexy alicorn wings am I supposed to do THAT?!”

Sweetie Belle raised her hoof, but the creature was moving too fast. It dropped out of range, and another pony stepped into her path. Not a creature- -a stately earth-pony mare, dressed in armor marked with a gold and red sun insignia.

“Get out of my way!” said Sweetie Belle. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

“You may not,” she said. “But I want to hurt you. Lady Sunset demands it.”

With a mad cry, the earth pony leapt on Sweetie Belle. Sweetie Belle tried to throw her off, but just doing so nearly made her pass out. Unarmed ponies were not optimized for fighting, and without magic or any special martial arts experience, they could barely damage each other. This pony, though, was immensely strong, her strength only modified by her blind rage and desire to kill Sweetie Belle. Like the monster who proceeded her, she targeted her attacks on the cracks that were beginning to form in the crystal armor.

“Why are you doing this?” cried Sweetie Belle, pushing her but not knocking her off. “We don’t have to fight!”

“Because I want to!” screamed the mare. “Because I have ALWAYS wanted to! My only desire since the day I was born was to serve Lady Sunset! To be at her side, to- -”

Something hard struck her in the chest, and her torso tore open, splattering Sweetie Belle with blood. Sweetie Belle stared agape as the earth pony’s eyes cleared, and she looked around, confused and terrified. “Where…where am I? Why does…” she looked down at the gaping hole in her chest and her exposed ribs. “Oh Cadence…”

She promptly collapsed, and Sweetie Belle screamed as the corpse fell onto her. She struggled to lift it off her, and then stood back. As she did, several glowing particle beams erupted past her, one slicing the creature that Wing was clinging to in half.

Sweetie Belle turned around, expecting to see more C-sec officers. Instead, she found herself facing an entirely different kind of alien. A formation of brown, insect-like creatures were marching down the hallway, fanning out as they clicked and chirped in communication to each other. Their multiple luminescent eyes seemed to linger on her for a moment, and then back to the creatures that they were killing. One, however, stopped and stood over Sweetie Belle.

“Heavily biotic unidentified quadruped with demicybernetic armor of composition unknown,” it stated in a barely discernible, buzzing voice. It seemed to be addressing her, but only partially. It was either doing that or muttering to itself. It was impossible for Sweetie Belle to tell. It did not have an apparent mouth.

“Eew eew eew eew!” she cried, skittering away from it. “Big bug! BIG BUG!”

“It does not need to be concerned,” said the bipedal insect. “The Council has proven itself unable to defend the Citadel. We have been dispatched to defend. We do not intend it harm. It will come with us to safety.”

“I don’t see how it could possibly go wrong if we trust them,” said Wing, standing up and rubbing his head. “They seem like nice- -oop.” Two of them had picked him up by his shoulders and were carrying him off as innumerably more filed down the hall. “I guess I’m going this way now.”

“Put him down!”

“Negative,” said the one who had spoken to her. It’s head suddenly tilted, and it chirped loudly. It then departed the conversation, joining its identical brethren as it raised its weapon and proceeded down the corridor. Sweetie Belle did not know what else to do, so she followed them.

Being an Ardat-Yakshi had its advantages. They were few, and they were heavily outweighed by the horrific costs of the genetic condition. Falare had always seen her nature as a profound curse. Her eldest sister, though, had always maintained the opposite. Morinth had claimed that they were the future of the asari race, a new breed of exponentially more powerful demigods destined to rule Thessia. Falare had never had any understanding of what she had meant, but now it was becoming increasingly clear.

In all her life, Falare had never truly been a fighter. Her mother was a Justicar, the pinnacle of asari warriors, but Falare had never even gotten into a fistfight as a child. Her more subdued nature, she supposed, was a way of rebelling against Samara. Despite never having fought, though, she knew what asari were supposed to be capable of. She had seen sporting events, demonstrations, and ceremonies before she had been sent away, and evening seclusion, she had read in many books of the great feats of ancient warriors and priestesses.

What those asari- -those of legend, as well as those who had been training in the use of their biotics for hundreds of years- -did should have been out of the realm of possibility for an asari with no formal biotic training who virtually never used that particular set of abilities. What Falare quickly found, though, was that she could not only exceed those amounts of power- -she could do so with incredible ease.

It was absolutely terrifying. There was so much power at her disposal that it frightened her beyond anything she had ever felt. Just glancing at an enemy alone was enough to tear it apart, and the shell of energy around her deflected blasts that she knew should have been instantly lethal. She felt like a living goddess- -and aside from understanding what Morinth had meant, she also finally understood why the asari were terrified of her.

Despite her power and the ease with which she used it, though, Falare found that she was quickly tiring. A normal asari would have fallen long ago, but the enemies were great in number, and some of them had powerful biotics of their own that rivaled her own. Her training had been to contain herself, not to use her powers efficiently. Uncontained, she felt her energy leaving her and her body growing increasingly weak. She did not know how to use just enough power to attack or defend; everything she did was tremendous overkill, and she could feel herself flailing about nearly randomly with her power.

That worked- -at first. The creatures she was fighting, though, were not entirely mindless. They were adapting their tactics. Instead of attacking singly, they had begun to group, sacrificing the weakened or injured members on the outer shell to allow the stronger central creatures to get close enough to force Falare to engage them directly. She would often barely manage to get to them in time, and doing so would open channels for others to breach her defensive perimeter.

Worse, the composition of the horde was changing. The smaller ones had begun to avoid her, leaving the largest of them to advance. Those had their own powers, and often coated themselves and their compatriots in powerful shields. It took a concerted effort for Falare to bring enough of her uncontrolled power toward a single target, and every time she was forced to do it her mind weakened slightly.

They showed no sign of relenting. In fact, they only increased their numbers. The quantity seemed to be limitless. Then came the unicorns. Those were far worse. It was, in part, because their command of their biotics was so great. They were not generally anywhere near as powerful as Falare, but their control and dexterity was incredible. While Falare just poured immense power at her opponents, they attacked with skill, needling and parrying with their biotics and sometimes managing to actually injure her.

Even worse, though, was their eyes. Falare had seen eyes like that before, and she knew how to recognize Reaper indoctrination. The ponies were not fighting by their own free will, they were being forced to. They were no different from Rarity, or from Falare’s pony children, and she more than anything wanted to help them. There was no choice, though. Her heart broke as she was forced to defend herself, attacking them uncontrollably and leaving them maimed or worse.

In time, though, Falare’s weakness began to overtake her. Her energy started to flicker out, and she was forced to close her field tighter to her, limiting her attacks to just enough to keep them from advancing. She was still exceeding the biotic output of an entire army of asari, but she knew she could not last long.

She dropped to her knees, bracing herself for what she was quickly realizing could become her last stand. That thought did not frighten her, but it made her impossibly sad. Her only consolation was that her sacrifice had allowed the others to escape- -and that, if the Ardat-Yakshi were granted an afterlife, she might have a chance to rejoin her sisters in it.

Fate, though, had different plans in store for her. Just as she was beginning to falter, a sound of automatic weapons arose from the back of the attacking formation. The creatures turned, almost confused at how they had managed to be flanked. Falare smiled, glad that she might be granted a reprieve- -until she saw the oncoming soldiers.

They were not the Benefactor’s warriors. They were humanoid in shape, but the outermost of the group were far taller than any species Falare was familiar with. Their armor was all identical, cast in stark black and white- -with an orange hexagon emblazoned on each of their chests. They were Cerberus.

They pushed through the horde from behind, using their Alliance-made weapons for shooting as much as they used them for bayoneting or bashing. The creatures broke apart like paper, and their attacks seemed to do little to nothing against the tall soldiers.

The leader of the soldiers pushed forward the fastest. She was shorter and probably only slightly taller than Falare. Unlike the others, she wore no helmet, meaning that Falare could see her face. She was human, with nearly white skin and blonde hair tied into a tight bun. She was attractive in a classical sense, but the expression on her face- -one of intense disgust paired with a strange bemusement- -made her seem instantly deplorable.

At the time, a unicorn had been attacking Falare. The Cerberus leader stepped up behind it, and it turned, charging its horn to attack. She drew her hand back and backhand slapped it. The blow should have been comical- -but instead, the pony’s eyes bulged as her body splattered inside her armor, her remains slamming into a wall with a sickening liquid squelch as she burst apart. Her soldiers quickly and mercilessly cleared the remainder.

“Cocentra eight cleared,” she said into a small headpiece. “Organics eliminated. We have successfully recovered the asari Counselor.”

Falare looked up at the human woman, glaring. She was out of breath, and though they had saved her, they had waited until she had exhausted almost all of her energy. She could still summon an attack, if she needed to, but if she did, the effect to her body would be severe.

“So,” she said. “I suppose you intend to take me prisoner?”

“No,” said the woman, simply. She lowered her weapon and reached out a hand. “Cerberus is not your enemy. We never have been. We responded to your distress call. We’re here to help.”

Falare, confused, looked up at the woman. Her eyes were not sincere, because they were not real. Up close, Falare could tell that she was not human at all. It occurred to her that the soldiers that accompanied her were not either.

“You are a synth,” she said. “You all are.”

The woman smiled. “I know. Consider our respect for your bigoted laws a gesture of good-will.”

Falare was not sure what to think, but she found herself taking the robotic woman’s hand and being lifted into a standing position. Of all the things that had happened to her in the last seventy two hours, she had thought she had seen everything. She had, she realized, been quite wrong.

The Citadel’s primary server core was the size of a small city. This was where Sunset Shimmer’s forces had closed themselves, fortifying their position with specialized drones placed around the border whose sole purpose was to project an impenetrable field to prevent interference. This was the only place that they remained stationary, and the only place they even bothered to fortify.

It was also the ultimate destination of Geth Prime. The giant walked through rows of building-like computer servers, its single eye directed primarily on where it perceived the center of resistance to be located. Soldiers swarmed around his feet, but hesitated at the sight of the orange shield. Some even wondered why Geth Prime was not stopping.

“Obstruction detected,” he bellowed, slowing slightly as he approached the border. “Composition: colloidal superperiotic gas energized by biotic field barrier. Probability of mission hinderance…” he raised one enormous geth fist, pulling it backward. “…zero percent!”

He struck it full force, and the impact was not only enough to shatter it but to cause the mages producing it to detonate from the biotic feedback, with their heads and bones liquefying from the instantaneous surge.

Geth Prime was too large to enter the computer core, and unlike the rest of the Citadel he seemed to understand that damaging it was a bad thing. Instead, the soldiers at his feet- -a combination of C-sec officers, turian guards, drell mercenaries, any soldiers who happened to be on the Citadel, a swarm of Collectors, and krogan civilians who had either picked up weapons or grabbed whatever could be used as a beating stick- -as well as one hanar- -charged into the computer core instead.

Inside the core itself, several drones were interfaced with the computer array, their bodies still as their minds linked to the computational matrix through the cables in their backs.

“Hurry!” said the pony in charge of the operation. “The shield has been breached- -we don’t have much time!”

The drones did not respond. They never responded. They never spoke. They simply worked, without care of weather they lived or died. The overseer mare considered this strange, and somehow profoundly sad- -but she did not know why.

A voice suddenly spoke to her. She stood at attention.

“I have received the schematic,” it said, and the mare basked in the attention of her goddess.

“Have I done well?” she asked. “Are you proud of me, Lady Sunset?”

“You are no longer necessary.”

The mare’s expression changed from a smile to crushed, wide-eyed stare. “But, Lady Sunset, no don’t- -” She cried out as the buzzing in her head slowed. “Don’t leave me! I need you!”

Then, all at once, it cleared. She blinked, confused, and looked around, terrified. She remembered everything she had done, all the horrible things she had seen- -but it all seemed like a blur. She was in a dark room, surrounded by alien equipment and equally alien abominations that now all suddenly seemed to be staring at her with pleading silver eyes.

“Where am I?” she asked. “Where…where are my children? Blaze, Valley Song, where- -”

Her inquiry was cut short by a bullet punching through her head. Around her, the drones looked to the intruders, but did not respond. There was no need to. They allowed themselves to be killed. Without Sunset Shimmer forcing them to continue, they were finally granted a chance to end their agony.

Throughout the Citadel, Sunset Shimmer’s forces were already being overcome. In the battle in space, her badly damaged Reapers continued to fight for their survival, but the combined forces of the Citadel fleet and the Collector fighters had damaged many of them beyond repair. They listed, and instead of dying peacefully rammed themselves into the Citadel, taking out huge swaths of populate areas as they fell and exploded.

Victory, it seems, had come at a price, but it had indeed come- -or so it appeared.

Chapter 29: The Planet

Far away from the battle of the Citadel, an obscure and distant mass relay hummed to life. Algorithms engaged to connect its hyperspace channels to another set of relays in a distant galaxy, and a luminescent orange and blue ship appeared.

Inside, Starlight looked out at the world through the scanning equipment implanted in her body. This was the system where it had begun. It was calm and silent. There were no inhabited worlds, and the only sign of intelligent life at all was the debris of a turian listening post and a few crystal probes dropped on the various resource-poor planets that orbited the nameless central star.

Starlight’s crystal computer shifted in its housing, adjusting to its new location and reestablishing communication.

“Are you there?” asked Sunburst, his voice transmitting halfway across the universe but still coming in clearly.

“Yeah,” said Starlight. “I’m home. Earth is just one teleportation jump away.”

“Are you absolutely sure this is something you want to do? You can still turn back.”

“No, I can’t. I’m not going to reconsider.”

Sunburst sighed. “I suppose I didn’t expect anything less of you. Just please be careful. Regardless of what decision you end up making, I want to see you again. Even if it is only one more time.”

“Don’t worry. You will.” Of course, Starlight knew that she was lying. There was no guarantee of that.

“I have to go,” said Sunburst. “The Defense Fleet is being mobilized.”

“And I know how much you enjoy being mobilized.”

“I love you, Starlight.”

Starlight paused. It felt strange to hear anyone say that to her, and it was unexpected. Hearing it made her momentarily wish that she really had chosen to stay on the Imperium. “I love you too, Sunburst.”

The communication clicked out, and Starlight removed the crystal’s capacity for long-range communication. She instead integrated it into her own computational matrix to augment her internal guidance system.

“You look like you’re about to cry,” said Jack.

“I’m not. I don’t have tear ducts anymore.”

“What you’re thinking right now? You’re right.”

“Right? What are you talking about?”

“That you should have stayed. I’m not going to tell you what to do, Star, but I would have given anything for the chance you have right now. I didn’t have a choice, and the Reapers took everything.”

“I’m not going to lose.”

“Bullshit. You saw it. The life that neither of us got to live. You can’t tell me you don’t want that.”

“I do,” said Starlight. “Is that what you want me to say? I’m not going to lie to you, Jack. But you’re wrong. I never had that chance. Equestria took it from me. There never really was a choice.”

The conversation ended there as Starlight detected an incoming transmission. “Oh no,” she said.

“What?”

“The Citadel. It’s under attack.”

“Under attack- -what the hell would be dumb enough to attack the Citadel?”

“Who do you think?”

“But you said the device was on Earth- -”

“It is,” said Starlight, her eyes narrowing. “It’s a distraction.”

“A distraction? By attacking the Citadel? Star, you may not have noticed, but that place is a fortress- -it would take an all-out war to take it.”

“She doesn’t want to take it. The signal says ‘Reapers’. Her Reapers. Every ship in the galaxy is going to swarm to the Citadel.”

“Including the blockade around the Alliance.”

“Exactly. She’s cut her obstacles in half.”

“Or she could be pulling the asari fleet away from Thessia.”

“She isn’t. It’s earth. I’m sure of it.”

“How? How could you know that, Star?”

“I just do.” Starlight did not want to explain that a substantial source of her knowing was in fact from a dream- -in part because the idea that she had actually received a communication from Sunset Shimmer was too absurd to entertain.

“Okay. We’ll go with that. But should we do something about the Citadel?”

“No. I can’t be in two places at once. They’ll have to handle it themselves.”

“Starlight,” called a voice from somewhere else in the ship. It was Lyra. “I’m having some trouble with my equipment. Can you help me with this.”

“By ‘equipment’, does that mean your, you know, your ‘equipment’?”

“Just get down here.”

“Hold on,” said Starlight, both to her and to Jack. She shifted herself through the ship, reconstructing it around her as she moved relative to the projected hull without sacrificing her connection to the projected ship. Hallways and rooms reconfigured as she passed through until she reached the area where Lyra was standing over the container that held her various weapons.

“What’s the problem?” asked Starlight. “Because we’re running out of time.”

“It won’t take long. I was checking my weapons, and I found an inconsistency. Can you check the manifest?” She lifted a paper note with her magic.

Starlight frowned. “Seriously? You brought me down here for this? Do you have any idea the calculations I need to do to move- -”

“Trust me. I really need your help on this.”

“Fine,” said Starlight, taking the manifest. She looked at it, and quickly realized that it was not actually a list at all. Instead, it was a note.

“Next to the case, left side,” it read, “photonic dispersion invisibility spell. There’s something there.”

“I don’t know how you get your handwriting so neat, Lyra,” said Starlight. She did not look to where Lyra had suggested, at least not with her eyes. Her eyes remained on the note, pretending to read, while she directed her scanning systems at the corner of the room that the note mentioned. As Lyra had stated, there was indeed something there. To the naked eye, it would have been almost entirely invisible- -but Starlight was very clearly detecting something organic.

She immediately changed the parameters of the room. The tech projection that made up the wall of the room suddenly shifted, opening and folding outward around the mass, forming a cage. Starlight then immediately began to crush whatever it was.

“Ow! No! Too tight! TOO TIGHT!”

Starlight stopped squeezing. She recognized the voice. “Flurry Heart?”

The slight visual distortion in the tech cage shifted, and Flurry Heart materialized. She was wearing thick golden armor that seemed almost more ceremonial than practical, and she did not look happy.

“How dare you attack me!” she cried. “I could have you executed for this insult!”

“How dare you sneak onto my damn ship! How did you even get here?!”

“She must have hidden with my equipment,” said Lyra. “It’s the only thing here that’s actually solid.”

“And might I add that it REEKS in there.”

“Well, yeah. That’s the cosmoline.”

“Why are you here, Flurry Heart?” Starlight was not happy. The filly’s presence was just another headache added to an already tense situation.

“Because of YOU!” cried Flurry Heart, poking one of her hooves angrily through the tech-based bars of her extremely tight cage.

“Me? What the hell did I do?”

“You had sex with my husband!”

Lyra, who had not been terribly engaged in the conversation, suddenly was. “What?” she said.

“He’s not your husband! You’re eight- -”

“Yes he IS! I’m not a stupid kid! I’m going to marry him some day, and we’re going to have lots of pony babies, because that’s my royal duty! And by defiling my betrothed you have declared war on the entire Crystal Empire! I will- -eep!” She squeaked as Starlight opened the cage, causing her to tumble out onto the floor. The tech returned to the wall, and Flurry Heart stood up, shaking her oversized and now highly disheveled wings. “Not only that, but you cost me my military career! This insult will not go unchallenged! I demand a duel to the DEATH!”

“I’m not going to fight you. You’re a kid.”

“Further insult! A coward in addition to a lecher!”

“He didn’t even put it inside me!” cried Starlight way too loudly.

Flurry Heart suddenly looked very confused. “Inside you? What in Mother’s name are you talking about?”

“Wait,” said Lyra. “Kid, do you even know what sex is?”

“Well, no, I don’t know the specifics, exactly, but I know that only I can have it with Sunburst! In a minimum of ten years! Not you! He’s mine!”

“He doesn’t belong to anypony! And- -and I’m arguing with an eight year old. Lyra, deal with this. I’m going back to have another depressing philosophical discussion with Jack.”

“Wait, what? Oh no, you’re not leaving me to deal with this!”

“Why? You’re married, you know how to deal with kids.”

“I have an adult stepdaughter! I’m pretty sure you’ve met her! I don’t know how to deal with kids. Well…” she reached into the case in front of her and removed a large shotgun. Flurry Heart’s eyes widened immensely. “I guess I know one way…”

“You wouldn’t dare! I’m an adorable princess!”

“You’re also the daughter of a mare who was my sworn enemy for close to eighty years. So…”

“Well what am I supposed to do? I can’t teleport her that far without risking sending her to the wrong galaxy, and I’m not going back.”

“Then take her with us.”

“Are you insane? I’m not taking a child with us!”

“I’m not a child! I’m an alicorn! We age faster- -”

“Really? So you want to come with us to Earth, then? The most lethal planet in the Milk-Path galaxy, populated entirely by perverts and murderers? You’ve seen Jack, right? It’s pretty much a planet of her!”

“It’s not that bad,” said Lyra. “I’m sure Earth is like any other world. I mean, it’s the center of the galaxy’s most powerful empire. I’m kind of expecting it to be pretty great.”

“We’re not going sightseeing. We’re going into a battle. I’m not comfortable taking a child with me.”

“I’m not an ordinary child. Do you really think I’m anything like those immature little steeds, running around and playing pretend with each other? I’m an alicorn! A living god! I’ve conquered entire worlds! In simulation, of course, but they were VERY realistic simulations!”

“Starlight Glimmer,” said Armchair, his voice transmitting from a different part of the ship. “The outer rachni colonies…we can hear their song. She is here. There is not much time.”

“I don’t- -” Starlight released an exasperated groan. “You know what? Fine. Welcome to the crew, Flurry. You didn’t listen to any of Sunburst’s warnings, and now you’re about to learn why.”

“Excellent. I will require a center of command- -”

“Um, no. My ship. My command. You are lowest rank.”

“Lowest rank! I don’t- -”

“Not listening,” said Starlight, moving upward through the ceiling of the room, dragged by the implants on her back.

“You come back here! I demand to have an audience!”

“Excellent,” said Lyra, picking up the filly.

“Unhand me, peasant!”

“Nope. You wanted to help, you’re going to.”

“How?”

“Darien doesn’t take flying well. He needs something to hug. You seem adequately soft.”

“I am pretty soft,” admitted Flurry Heart.

“And heavy,” said Lyra. “Good. That will help prevent death by crushing.”

“What?”

“You’ll see. Come on.”

The teleportation went perfectly, and Starlight emerged into Alliance space on the outskirts of the Sol system. The space did not feel distinctly different from any space that she had previously occupied, but the significance was clear to her. She had never been to Sol, but she had heard stories about the Alliance. None of them portrayed it in a good light.

In accordance with her mission, she had altered the construction of her ship. It now consisted of a single large room.

“We’re here,” she said.

Beri looked up out the semi-transparent biotic plates that made up the floor and walls. “Alliance space…we’re not going to make it out of this, are we?”

“They can’t see us,” said Starlight. “They don’t even know we’re here. You’re overreacting.”

“Are we cloaked?” asked Lyra.

“No. Of course not. We don’t need to be. Their sensors are optimized to detect traditional mass cores, or high-mass ships. I don’t have either of those.”

“But what if they just look out a window?” asked Armchair.

“Do the math. Right now, this ship is less than fifteen meters long. Have you ever tried to see a thirty-foot object at two thousand kilometers? We’re like a speck of sand. Smaller, even. Human eyes just aren’t good enough to see us.”

“I still don’t like it,” said Jack. “This isn’t a good place.”

The room fell silent as they crossed the star system. It was not exceedingly complex, but Starlight was able to perceive its various structures and contents. The level of development was actually quite impressive. Nearly every planet was mined to depletion, and the upper atmospheres of the gas giants were dotted with satellites and innumerable megastructures. Several moons had also been heavily colonized, especially around the largest of the planets.

Then there were the ships. Avoiding them was simple in theory, but the sheer number made it almost impossible. Everywhere Starlight looked, the sky was filled with warships. Their size was highly variable, but some of them were truly massive battleships. They were massive, geometric, and almost always painted blue, and they gave of a haze of energy on Starlight’s scanners as they moved. She attributed this to the presence of multiple cascade-linked mass cores, a technology that even the salarians had barely managed to get past the experimental stage of development.

Starlight began to approach the most populous and developed planet in the system- -but then stopped. She reviewed her scanners and counted, and realized something was wrong.

“Jack,” she said. “Which planet is Earth? By number?”

“How should I know? I’ve only ever been to it once. I think my legs are probably still there.”

“Three,” said Darien, who had Flurry Heart in a deathgrip. “Earth is the third planet.”

“Oh,” said Starlight, pulling back from the fourth. She turned her attention to the third. “No way,” she said. “It can’t be.”

“It is,” confirmed Armchair.

The planet was not at all what Starlight had expected. Put simply, it was dead. There were signals coming from the surface, but virtually no ships in the vicinity. As Starlight got closer, she began to detect impacts on her projected hull. The planet was surrounded by a nearly impenetrable debris field- -and in orbit, Starlight saw an artificial spheroid structure.

“Damn,” said Jack. “They’ve still got the crucible here.”

“I don’t like this,” said Zedok, looking out through the window as the pieces of several ships drifted past. “Look at the color of it…”

“I can’t see,” said Starlight. “What color is it?”

“Gray and brown,” said Zedok. “This isn’t what a planet should look like.”

“It’s ugly,” squeaked Flurry Heart, managing to pull herself away from Darien slightly. “I don’t know why anypony would want to come here.”

“Well, you’re about to find out,” said Starlight. She engaged another teleport.

This time, the ship did not move. It dissipated as everybody aboard appeared on the planet below. The landing was somewhat rocky, but Starlight still materialized standing, her hooves digging into the rocky ground below.

The first thing she became aware of was just how cold it was. She had brought them relatively close to the equator, but the planet’s strong wind was still biting. Above her, the sky was dark and cloudy with a sickly haze. There was little light, and the air stank badly.

Starlight surveyed the landscape around her. Even without color vision, she could already tell that this planet had not even the slightest amount of green. All around her was a decaying city. The buildings were collapsing and broken, their façades crumbled and stained by toxic rain. The only thing that looked even partially maintained were the factories. The ruins of the city had been knocked down in places and replaced with enormous structures. Industry stood in what had once been a potentially beautiful residential city, belching smoke into the sky. The sound of the machines was almost as loud as the reeking wind as it twined through the long-dead trees that still clung to the cracked road.

“This explains a lot,” said Starlight.

“Star,” said Jack, looking out at the landscape. “You didn’t. Please, PLEASE tell me you didn’t…”

“Teleport us onto Earth? Of course. We’re safe here.”

“How is this possibly safer?!”

“We can’t get shot down here. And look.” Starlight gestured out at the land. “There isn’t anybody here.”

“I can’t blame them,” said Flurry Heart, pulling herself free from Darien’s grip. “This place is a dump.”

Jack looked at the smaller pony, and then at Starlight. “She shouldn’t be here.”

“I would leave her on the ship if I could, but that’s not going to work, is it?” said Starlight.

“Please. The most hazardous thing here is probably the scabies.”

“Scabies?” said Darien. “What are scabies? I don’t want whatever that is being. I don’t like this place. I want to go back on the ship.”

“Don’t worry,” said Zedok, patting his arm. “We’ll be fine. It’s just, you know, Earth.”

“Eh,” said Lyra. “I’ve seen worse.”

“That isn’t a Tuchanka joke, is it?”

They started walking. Starlight was not sure what she was looking for, if she was even looking for anything. There was no way that she would be able to find some ancient artifact in this place. She only knew that Sunset Shimmer would be coming here. More or less, she was not so much searching for Starswirl’s device as she was waiting for her opponent to arrive. Ironically, the best place to hide from the Alliance was on the surface of Earth.

As they walked, more of the city became visible to Starlight, and her mind began to piece together what must have happened. It was not simply abandoned. There were too many signs of battle: craters from artillery shells, hulks of broken war machines, and decaying barriers where soldiers had once held the line against a long-departed foe.

At one point, Starlight was even able to look out and see half of an enormous battleship, its front end crushed and broken where it impacted the city, leaving a long path of destruction as it had crashed.

“You were here,” she said at last, to Jack. “When this all happened.”

“Yeah,” said Jack. “I don’t know what Earth looked like before, but Shepard would sometimes tell me stories. It used to be pretty. But then the War came. The whole planet was a battlefield. It never recovered.”

“There’s nobody here,” said Lyra, looking around. “Luna damn it, it’s just so…quiet.”

“That’s a good thing,” said Beri, gripping an assault rifle tightly. “I’d rather not have to deal with humans right now.”

“You don’t get it,” said Lyra. “It’s not just humans. Nothing’s moving. Nothing’s alive. A planet shouldn’t look like this. Not ever. Something is wrong.”

As if to punctuate her statement, a slow warbling howl echoed out through the city.

“What was that?” said Flurry Heart, instinctively clinging close to Starlight. “Wolves?”

“No,” said Jack. “Varren.”

“Ah!” said Armchair. “Then this confirms that the ecosystem is at least marginally stable! Varren are largely carnivorous, and their presence indicates that they must be eating something!”

“That’s not good,” said Starlight, watching as the doglike amphibians slowly circled through the wreckage of the city, their fish-like eyes glaring at the group from a distance.

Then, suddenly, there was a sharp yelp of pain. All the varren all stopped. Their panting and warbling communication ceased immediately, and they fell silent. Each pointed its nose to the air, and all at once they started sprinting. Several appeared out of the buildings, dashing down the street with absolutely no regard for the aliens walking down it.

Flurry Heart cried out in surprise, but the varren showed no sign of attacking. Instead, they were fleeing, and doing so quite rapidly.

“Doggies,” said Darien, grabbing one and picking it up.

“They’re not dogs,” said Zedok. “And put that down! You don’t know where it’s been!”

Darien set the dog down, and Starlight turned her attention to where they had been running from. She did not see anything, or even hear anything. As far as she could tell, there was nothing there.

“We should follow them,” said Jack.

“No,” said Beri. “I don’t know it what universe that would be a good idea. To go where the highly predatory fish things are going? It is unwise. Deeply unwise.”

“It seems fine to me,” said Starlight. “They must have been spooked. Maybe something in the factories. Or maybe they just smelled an easier meal that way.”

The others seemed to realize that she was lying, but rather than accept the unpleasant truth they believed her. They continued on down the path, but only made it less than a hundred feet before Zedok became distracted by a dark and partially collapsed alleyway.

“Hey,” she said, stopping and staring down the alley. “Do you hear that?”

Starlight paused, and she did- -maybe. For a moment, she thought she heard something moving.

“Probably a rat,” said Jack. “Let’s keep moving.”

“That’s not a rat,” said Zedok, stepping into the edge of the alley. “I think I see something…”

She lifted her shotgun, activating the light on the end and immediately illuminating the “something” that her cybernetic eyes had seen. It was most definitely not a rat.

Instead, it was a pallid, thin creature with nearly gray skin and long greasy hair. Starlight quickly realized that it was human- -or almost so. The proportions were not quite right, and in the position it was sitting in- -facing away from them- -it was difficult to see properly.

“It’s a kid,” said Zedok, lowering her shotgun.

“Zed, DON’T go in there,” warned Jack.

“Why?” she said, approaching and using her light to illuminate the naked child. It appeared to be naked, and also extremely dirty. “We can’t just leave it here, not like this.”

The human suddenly stopped what he was doing, becoming aware of Zedok’s approach.

“Hey,” she said. “It’s okay. I’m not going to- -”

Her sentence stopped as it turned its head, and its two oversized blue eyes narrowed in her light to vertical slits. It became apparent what it had been doing: gnawing on the raw flesh of a severed varren head.

It only hesitated for a fraction of a second, and then it was moving. With a wild scream, it rushed toward Zedok. She did not have time to raise its gun, and it leapt onto her, sinking its sharp teeth into her neck.

“Oh FUCK!” she cried. “Get it off! GET IT OFF!”

Starlight took a step forward, only to be nearly knocked back as another pale figure leapt out of the shadows onto Beri, knocking her gun out of its way and pulling her pistol from her belt, disarming her. Starlight turned to see the street suddenly filled with the pale, blue-eyed creatures, all seeming to emerge from nowhere and all shrieking wildly as they charged the group.

“Goddamn it it’s an ambush!” cried Jack, slamming a biotic punch into the nearest of them. Its arm was instantly broken by the blow, but it hardly seemed to notice as it tried to claw its way toward her throat.

Several leapt on Starlight as well, apparently perceiving her as an easy target because of her height. She teleported the first one to somewhere else, and then struck out at the others with biotic energy. Two of them were struck, but a third dodged. They were amazingly fast and agile, and from the glimmer in their vertical-pupiled eyes, Starlight could tell that these were not simply animals. They were intelligent- -and they were quite clearly enjoying themselves.

Behind her, Beri fired several shots. With the humans clinging to her and her gun, they mostly went of randomly. One struck a human clear in the chest, a blow that should have killed it. Instead, it looked mildly confused, and then went back to trying to pull Flurry Heart away from Starlight.

“No!” cried Flurry Heart, striking at it with her own magic. She was not able to do any real damage, but did throw it back considerably. “I’m not cleared for groundfighting!”

“Duck!” said Starlight. Flurry Heart did, and Starlight projected a beam that cut several of the attackers in half. As their torsos fell, their comrades suddenly became distracted. Instead of attacking, they started grabbing at the screaming, struggling wounded and began tearing them apart, disemboweling and consuming them.

“Jack! I need a shockwave!”

“I’m on it!” Jack closed her arms around herself, and then with a scream forced a single biotic surge outward. The ground erupted with a minor earthquake, and several of the attacking humans were sent flying. As they did, though, more leapt down from the abandoned buildings above, grabbing Jack from behind.

“FUCK!” she cried. “It’s Pragia all over again!” She drew her old Spectre pistol and shot one of them in the head. It died promptly, giving her a chance to spin around and put a singularity into one of their chests. “Aim for the head! They won’t go down unless you hit them in the head!”

“Easy for you to say!” cried Beri, who was nearly being taken down by several clinging to her person. She struck out at them, but they reacted quickly, releasing her as she swung and dodging, only to reattach as they tried to disable her cybernetics.

Starlight targeted several of them and fired. Her bolt split, directing itself toward their heads and striking them. Some, though, actually managed to dodge. “Help Zedok!” she cried.

“I’m trying!” said Darien, who had mostly pulled the first of them away from Zedok’s neck. She was already covered in a large amount of violet fluid pouring from the wound, and Starlight could tell that the injury was severe.

“Hold on, I’m going to- -”

One of the creatures leapt toward Starlight suddenly. She projected a shield, but it suddenly jerked and stopped, as if it had been hit from behind. It looked down at its chest, confused, and then detonated in a cloud of red fluid and torn flesh.

This seemed to get the attention of the others- -and another three exploded. The others immediately stopped what they were doing and started scurrying on all fours into the shadows, leaping into maze-like alleyways or diving into open holes in the sewer system. Some managed to drag remnants of their dead associates with them, clearly with the intent of eating them.

“Who did that?” said Starlight, looking to Beri.

“I think it was him,” said Armchair, pointing.

Starlight looked down the street and saw a figure approaching slowly. It was bipedal, but it became immediately apparent that it was not human. As it came closer, Starlight saw that it was at least eight feet tall and far thinner than any human should be. At first she thought that it was wearing some kind of armor, but on closer inspection she saw that it simply did not have skin. Instead, its body was made of a pale and hard beige-colored substance. Its face- -or what it had for a face- -resembled a modeled version of a human skull, and an insignia of a gold shield had been painted on its chest.

In its right hand, the creature- -whatever it was- -was holding an enormous pistol, which it was in the process of reloading.

“Thank you,” called Starlight. “If you hadn’t shown up- -”

“Aliens,” it said, its mechanical voice booming out through the street. “You stand accused of trespass the sovereign soil of Earth. Verdict: guilty. Administering conviction.”

It leveled its gun, and Starlight barely managed to tackle Flurry Heart out of the way in time to dodge the bullet. It instead struck Beri behind her, erupting in a plume of orange sparks.

“No! My body, I- -” Beri promptly collapsed, and Starlight looked up to see the attacker moving. She had thought the naked, blue-eyed humans had moved quickly, but now she saw why they had been so afraid of this creature. Its sprinted across the gap between them with an almost impossible pace for its size, its narrow legs pumping to carry it over the broken ground.

“Goddamn it’s a synth!” cried Jack. “Shoot it! SHOOT IT!” She raised her hands and fired an entire sequence of biotic bolts. The synth was fast and agile enough to dodge several, and then to summon an complete suit of tech-armor as the final bolt struck it harmlessly.

“Don’t shoot!” said Darien, holding his hands up. “We surrender!”

“Like hell we surrender!” said Jack. She produced a shockwave again. The synth dodged, jumping an impossible height and clinging onto a nearby building. Once the shockwave dissipated, it leapt across the gap and over Starlight, attempting to flank them.

Starlight turned sharply, just as Armchair leapt onto the synth, grabbing it by the neck.

“Hold on,” said Starlight. “I’m going to overload it!”

“Starlight, don’t!” cried Jack. “If you do- -”

Starlight charged the numerous internal omnitool components that were implanted through her body and fired an overload beam at the synth’s chest. It connected, and she was momentarily connected to its internal systems. She began the process of feeding energy into them and overwhelming its processors- -when something suddenly went wrong.

This was an attack she had performed hundreds of times before, sometimes to entire starships, but she instantly realized that she had badly miscalculated. She had not fully understood what a synth was. With the overload, she had been expecting something similar to a VI. Instead, she found herself staring into a writhing mass of code that was exponentially more advanced. It went beyond AI; it was an actual sentient mind.

The mind reacted to her presence, quickly diverting critical subroutines out of her reach and squirming its way into her code. It was too fast- -and more than that, it was creative. Within a fraction of a millisecond it had hijacked Starlight’s code. She attempted to produce a firewall, but it was already too late. Her overload was reversed, feeding back into her implants.

She screamed as every system in her body suddenly faltered. Most of her artificial systems failed, including her eyes, and she collapsed. Her mind began to fade out of consciousness, and in the distance she heard more biotic blasts and the thud of weapons, followed by a scream of rage and defeat from Jack. Then Starlight’s mind shut down.

Chapter 30: Criminals

There were no dreams, apart from the distant sensation of an internal system’s reboot. Then, all at once, Starlight returned to consciousness. She opened her eyes, and saw a blurry and static-filled image slowly resolve as the lenses in her robotic eyes adjusted themselves.

The first thing she realized was that she was on a cold stone floor, and then that said floor was a part of a cell complete with old-fashioned iron bars. Starlight tried to stand, but then slipped and collapsed. She was unusually weak. As she attempted to rise again, she noticed a collar applied around her neck.

“Not this again,” she said, trying to charge her magic to remove the collar. The best she could summon was a spark.

“Don’t bother,” said Jack from across the cell. She was wearing a similar collar. “It suppresses your biotics. Trust me, I’ve had one of these on most of my life. Once it’s on, you can’t get out of it.”

“I know,” said Starlight. She could barely move. “Oh, my head…”

“That’s what you get for trying to overload an AI.”

Starlight rubbed her head, and then looked out of the cell. There were several in what seemed to be an underground block. Her and Starlight were in one, and Beri and Armchair were across from them. Beri was slumped awkwardly, and though her eyes could move she appeared to be paralyzed. Armchair, meanwhile, was much worse off. His body had been mostly torn apart, and several of his limbs were missing. Worse, his eye was no longer lit.

To the left of their cell was an especially large one on the corner where Darien was cradling Zedok. He was completely uninjured, but she was not conscious- -and it was not the effect of her collar. She was pail and shaking, with streaks of red-purple running from the bite wound in her neck.

The final cell contained Flurry Heart, alone. She was curled in a corner, crying.

“Where’s Lyra?” asked Starlight. “Please tell me she’s not…”

“She isn’t,” said Jack. She shifted, clearly with the same difficulty that Starlight was experiencing. “She was the last of us to go down, from what I can tell, but they sure took her down. She’s in ‘interrogation’ right now.”

“Interrogation?”

“Yeah. And knowing synths, she’s not going to be in one piece when she comes back.”

“At least she fought,” said Beri, able to talk even if she could not move. “Rather than surrender at the first sign of trouble.”

“I had to,” said Darien. “Zedok was bleeding to death. I don’t know how to fight, it was all I could do!”

He sounded panicked, and Starlight tried to comfort him. “You did the right thing, Darien. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t make her wake up. She’s sick. Really bad. I can’t- -I’m not a doctor. I can’t help.”

“It’s going to be okay,” repeated Starlight, more firmly. “We need to get her to a doctor. There has to be one here, somewhere.”

“And just how are we supposed to get out?” demanded Beri. “I can’t move my body. The geth hasn’t moved since we’ve been thrown in here. You and Jacqueline are almost as uslesess as the four-ton baby, and Zedock is down. What can we possibly do?”

“Just stop it!” cried Flurry Heart. “Stop it stop it STOP IT!”

“Flurry Heart,” said Starlight, pushing her hooves against the bars that separated their two cells. “It’s going to be okay.”

“You keep saying that! How can you say that? We’re all trapped, and I can’t use my magic! And they- -and they- -why did they have to be so MEAN?”

Starlight smiled. “We’re going to be alright because synths, apparently, are about as dense as their own skulls. They forgot to put a collar on one of us.”

Flurry Heart’s eyes widened, and she looked around.

“You knew?” said a much deeper female voice from within Flurry Heart’s cell. Flurry Heart squeaked and looked around, not knowing where the sound was coming from.

“Of course I did,” said Starlight. “I’m not an idiot. I can tell the difference between metal and something organic.”

The voice laughed. Then Flurry Heart’s armor split, peeling away from her body. The gold undulated and pulled apart, revealing the fact that it was not actual armor but in fact living flesh. Flurry Heart screamed in a combination of surprise and disgust as the armor reared back from her body and dropped onto the floor. It writhed for a moment, and then with a surge of green light condensed into a linear form that rapidly resolved into a large snake.

The snake reared up and addressed Starlight, its blue-green eyes focusing on hers. “I had to accept a substantial mass-loss for her to be able to lift me. Don’t expect anything big.”

“We don’t need big, Chrysalis. We just need something unexpected.”

“Fuck,” said Jack. “You certainly have that. In fucking spades.”

“That- -that was on me?” squeaked Flurry Heart. “Touching- -touching me? How did- -you- -” She shuddered violently.

“Oh relax,” said Chrysalis, slithering into Starlight’s cell between the bars. “You didn’t even notice. And it would hardly be the first time I’ve done this.”

Chryalis reared again and directed her attention on Starlight’s collar.

“Wait!” warned Jack, “it has an explosive device in it! Even if you get it off, it will explode.”

“What?” said Chrysalis. “What kind of a barbarian would build a system like that?”

“Who do you think?” said Beri from across the room.

Several footsteps across the damp stone floor interrupted their conversation, and Starlight saw Chrysalis grin with a wide, toothy snake-smile. “I think I have an idea.”

“Chrysallis!” hissed Starlight. “Wait!”

There was no way she could stop a snake, though, and Chrysalis slithered through the bars of the cell into the central corridor. She shapeshifted again, this time into the image of a cherubic human child. The transformation was complete just as the tall synth entered the room. It stopped, looking down at Chrysalis in confusion as she pretended to cry.

“Please, mister,” sobbed Chrysalis, rubbing her eyes. “I don’t- -I don’t know where I am! I got lost, and- -”

The synth did not hesitate. It raised its gun and pointed it at Chrysalis’s head, then pulled the trigger. Chrysalis’s entire upper body exploded in a plume of green fluid.

“Chrysalis!” cried Starlight.

“Hmm,” said the synth. “That was unexpected. I suppose she was an alien too.”

“God- -damn- -INORGANICS!” cried Chrysalis, her now headless torso standing up straight and roiling as it regenerated flesh. “You would DARE to attack the True Queen of the Crystal Empire! You filthy affront to biological life!”

The room suddenly ignited with green light, and the synth dropped to one knee from the biotic attack. Chrysalis completed her regeneration, and remained as a little girl- -but not a cherubic blond one. She was not a much younger, much smaller version of Jack wearing a miniature version of the long, dark robes that she wore as adult Jack.

She grinned, and somehow Starlight thought she looked even more like a serpent than she had as a snake. “I can’t feel anything from you,” she said. “You cannot love. You are not worthy of existence. I will crush you into oblivion.”

The pressure on the synth increased, and it was knocked to the ground even farther- -but it did not collapse. Instead, its head slowly raised, and its fiery blue glass eyes focused on Chrysalis. Then, with substantial effort, it stood.

“Chrysalis!” cried Jack. “It’s standing up!”

“I can see that!” snapped Chrysalis. She tried to increase her power output, but seemed to be unable to. Her eyes widened. “I can’t- -I can’t increase the gravitation! My body is too small!”

“Organics,” said the synth, taking an immensely heavy step forward. The stone blocks that made up the floor cracked under his mass. “I’m not as weak as you would believe. And I’m not an ‘it’. My name is William. And your behavior will now result in executions for all involved.”

He slowly started to raise his gun, pointing it at Chrysalis. She struggled to keep up the field, but it was already apparent that it was weakening. Suddenly, though, the synth turned his head, looking around. “Which one of you is singing?!” he cried. “Stop it! Stop it now!”

Starlight looked around. Nobody was singing. Before she could even try to understand what he was talking about, the synth dropped his gun and reached for his head. “NO!” he cried. “What are you doing? Get- -get out of my head! GET OUT OF MY HE- -”

All at once, he gave way to Chrysalis’s biotic pressure and fell to the floor. Chrysalis collapsed, breathing hard, but William did not stand up.

“What…what just happened?” asked Starlight.

William suddenly sat up. Everybody who could jumped back, but the synth did not attack.

“Installation complete,” he said. “Systems function nominal. Status: all your CPUs are belong to us now.”

Starlight blinked. “Armchair?”

The synth turned toward Starlight. “Hello, Starlight,” he said. “Oh my. You look excellent in stereoscopic vision. Yes. We are…no. I am Armchair.”

“What are you doing in there?”

“I uploaded a compressed version of myself to this body during the battle. It took some time to unpack it, I’m afraid.” He looked at his old body. “And I’m afraid my old system has been too badly damaged to use.”

“And Arachne?”

“I am Arachne. I am also Armchair. And, at the moment, I am a very, very angry synth named William. It is…difficult to explain.” He stood up, and extended a hand to Chrysalis. “Hello, Queen Chrysalis. I am glad to see you.”

“Great,” she said, refusing to accept his help. “One monstrosity for another.”

“How do we know it’s you?” asked Darien.

“You don’t, I suppose,” said Armchair. He wrapped his hands around the bars on Beri’s cage and tore the door off its hinges. “Oh my. This body is far stronger than I expected. The humans have excellent craftsmanship, even if their designs are less than poetic. Get out of my body, goddamn it. Oop. He’s rebelling. I’m not sure how much time I have in here. But I would like to have one of these bodies. I feel so sexy and confident.”

He reached onto his belt and removed a remote. Upon activating it, Starlight’s collar fell away.

“Neat,” she said, teleporting past the bars of her cell and then tearing them off the wall to let Jack out.

“We need to hurry,” said Darien, with Armchair using a key to unlock the extra-thick bars of his exceedingly tight cell. He picked up Zedok, who frowned and stirred deliriously. “She’s not doing well.”

“What we need to do is to get Lyra,” said Beri, standing up and flexing her arms as though stretching actually did anything for her. “If they didn’t kill her, she’ll be able to blast us out of here easily.”

“She is not dead,” said Armchair. “I will take you to her. Follow. Also fuck yourselves. That was William. My apologies.”

Armchair led them up the narrow set of stairs to the upper part of the complex. There were a serious of small rooms there, and Armchair opened the door to one of them.

Lyra looked up at them. They had put a collar around her, and had apparently partially disassembled her body. Her face was badly bruised and cut, but she looked up at Armchair defiantly.

“Round five, then?” she said. “I’m still not going to talk.”

“Not exactly,” said Armchair, using his remote to remove her collar. “I am not William. I am Armchair.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And it occurs to me that I may have been mispronouncing the term ‘Armature’ for quite some time. Needless to say, I will retain my original name. Because I like it. You idiot, give back my body.”

“This is too weird,” said Lyra. She reached out across the room with her magic, grabbing the dissembled bits of her body. She pulled them toward herself, peeling them apart and reconfiguring them as she attached them back onto her body. She then stood, flexing one of her hands.

“It’s not perfect,” she said. “But it will work for now.”

“Lyra,” said Darien, pushing past the others but being unable to enter the room. “Zedok is sick. Bad. I don’t know what to do.”

“I can teleport her,” said Starlight. “Back to Parnack- -”

“No. You’d cause an outbreak. We have no idea what’s in her.”

“Everything,” said Armchair. “William is attempting to hide the information from me, but it is my understanding that the bites of those creatures is terribly infections. The others in this base will no doubt have a cure.”

“Others?” said Jack. “What others?”

A round of bullets flying in from the far end of the hallway seemed to answer the question. Starlight and Jack both created biotic fields, and Chrysalis pulled Flurry Heart into the interrogation room for safety. Darien really only turned himself sideways, and the bullets rebounded off his thick skin.

Down the hall, another soldier was approaching quickly. He was enormous, but not tall and thin like the synth. Instead, Starlight was pretty sure he was human even with his helmet completely covering his face.

“I’ll take this one,” said Jack, stepping forward and charging her fists. She yelled at the human. “You want a piece of me, little man? Come take it!”

The human pointed his rifle at her, but then suddenly lowered it. “Santa mierda,” he said. “Jack, is that you?”

Jack stopped advancing, but did not lower her hands. “Do I know you?”

The human reached up and removed his mask. He was definitly male, dark skinned and middle aged with gray beginning to form in his hair. He had numerous scars, and a tattoo was visible on his neck past the collar of his armor. “It’s me, Jack. James Vega.”

Jack immediately lowered her hands. “You’ve got to be shitting me. Vega?”

“Who else could possibly be this sexy?” he said, spreading his arms. He looked at the various individuals behind Jack, and appeared confused. “William,” he said, pointing. “You totally got hacked.”

“He did,” admitted Armchair.

James laughed. “Serves you right. I’m surprised you have all your limbs attached, especially with Jack here. And…several small horses. A child. A turian. And a…” he looked up at Lyra. “I don’t even know. Jack, Shepard really did rub off on you, didn’t he? Oh, damn, that sounded dirty. True, but dirty.”

Darien pushed through the group, and James, panicked, reached for his sidearm.

“Tiny human,” said Darien. “Please, help.” He held out Zedok. “My lover, she needs help.”

“Jesus,” said James, looking at Zedok. “What happened to her?”

“She was bit,” said Starlight, stepping forward. “By one of the humans outside.”

“Humans? There’s no hum- -oh no. You don’t mean the wendigos?” He looked up at Armchair. “Shit, Will, you screwed the pooch on this one.” He turned to Jack. “We need to get her to Maria. Right now.”

“Is it bad?” asked Jack.

James just nodded, and led them upstairs.

The facility, it seemed, was a relatively Spartan military complex. The lower walls were old, but built on top of them were a series of sturdy walls built of concrete blocks. The upper level was at least well lit, although it had an air of being old and in mild disrepair despite its near perfect cleanliness.

James led them quickly through the facility, passing rooms that were mostly occupied either with things being stored or lockers of various types. Eventually, he brought them to a large room where a number of thin, simple combat droids were walking around a large table.

“Maria,” said James. “We have a problem.”

“What did William do now?” said a woman leaning over a large projection table in the center. She turned toward them, and Starlight immediately felt nauseous. She was not ugly, exactly, so much as she was extremely deep in the uncanny valley. Her proportions were that of a human female, but her head was made of a hard white save for her face, which seemed like it had only been marginally been designed to look like a human face and simply been tacked onto her skull. Her dead, empty robot eyes looked at James, and then at the others. “Vega…?”

“It’s a bite,” said James, motioning to Zedok.

Maria’s eyes widened. “A bite? On an asari? Why hasn’t she been treated?”

“You can ask William when we get the geth out of his head.”

“Can you help her?” said Darien.

“I don’t know,” said Maria. “But I will try.” Around her, the combat drones converged, walking toward Darien. One of them reached up, and Darien hesitantly passed Zedok to them. “I am loading asari treatment protocols as we speak,” said Maria. “I will get her into surgery immediately.”

“I have to go with her,” said Darien.

“Then go,” said Maria. “But don’t get in my way.”

Darien nodded and followed Maria’s drones as they rushed Zedok to elsewhere within the complex.

“I’m going with them,” said Lyra, following as well.

Starlight watched them go, and Maria sighed in exasperation.

“A unicorn. An actual unicorn,” said Maria. She looked up at James. “Why are there ponies in my precinct? And please tell me that that right there is not Jaqueline Naught.”

“Maybe just a little.”

“And William, are you just going to stand there?”

“I’m not William,” said Armchair.

“Old Judge Willy tried to take down a geth,” explained James.

“A geth…seriously? Did you even pay attention in training? No, of course not.” She groaned again. “I don’t even have the capacity to feel pain, and I’m still getting a migraine from this. And my day was going so good, too. I guess this explains why the wendigoes in sector five are suddenly so riled up.”

“What are they?” asked Starlight, stepping forward. “Those things out there? Those humans? The ones that attacked us?”

Maria looked down at Starlight. Starlight shivered; Maria was not pleasant to look at. She resembled a walking corpse. “They’re not human. Not anymore, at least.”

“Ever wondered why there’s no vorcha on Earth?” asked James, almost intending humor. “It’s because of them.”

“Cannibals,” said Maria. “Evolved humans. Mad, nearly mindless, but lethally intelligent. They will attack anything that moves, including each other. They usually aren’t a problem because they kill each other on sight. Congratulations, though. You’re special enough that you got them to group. They only do that for very special occasions.”

“Are they…people?”

“No. I just said that. All the intelligence and violence of a human without a concerted mind to maintain it. Plus their unusual biology.”

“Let me guess,” said Jack. “They’re almost impossible to kill? To the point where they can regrow limbs, perhaps?”

“Yeah,” said James. “Little bastards…”

“And the problem is their disease load. They are infected. Badly. Diseases that should kill a normal human infest them harmlessly. Your friend? She was just exposed to nearly every pathogen on Earth without any natural immunity to them.”

“Then you should go help her,” said Starlight.

“I am,” said Maria. “She’s in surgery right now.” She sighed, and then lifted herself up, sitting down on the edge of the projection table. “Geth,” she said.

“Armchair.”

“A terrible name. Please get out of William. I did not approve time off for him.”

“I am afraid I cannot allow myself to do that. I need a processing unit to live in.”

“Use the precinct’s central computer. Upload yourself.”

“Whoa, wait a minute!” said James. “Maria, are you sure? You’d be letting a geth into the system.”

“I am fully aware of what I’m doing, Vega.” She shrugged. “If he burns it out, then maybe PD will buy me one that actually works so I don’t have to use my own brain to do everything.”

“Do you have a port I can use?”

“I do have a port,” said Maria. “But you’re not getting anywhere near it.” She pointed to an access panel on the side of the table. “You want to use the computer’s port. Not mine.”

“Ah. That was a sexual joke. Ha. Ha. Ha.”

“No, it wasn’t. It was a ‘I don’t want a geth in my head when I’m controlling half this place with it’ joke.”

“Oh. That doesn’t sound funny at all.”

Armchair walked over to the computer and interfaced with it. His body shook as he uploaded himself, and then William jumped back, drawing his gun and pointing it at Jack.

“Stand down, soldier,” said Maria.

“But these aliens have been convicted of criminal trespass and attempted sabotage of Alliance-critical resources.”

“And I’m about to convict you of insubordination. Seriously. If they were actually threats, wouldn’t you know, have found them in a factory, maybe? Breaking things? Stealing schematics? And why didn’t you file a report when you found them?”

“I was operating with reasonable autonomy. And I am more than within the realm of the law.”

“This is Earth. There is no law.”

“I am the Law.”

James cringed. “You did not just say that.”

“At least two of them are children,” said Maria, pointing to Flurry Heart and Jack, both of whom were standing a distance behind Starlight.

“And one of them was a yahg. Also an asari, a race known for terrorism.”

“I am in a computer,” said Armchair, his voice disembodied.

“And a geth!’ cried William. “There’s a geth!”

“A geth you were foolish enough to get overwritten with. If he had actually been a threat? Guess what: he could have taken down an entire sector. Or implanted a virus that could take down this hemisphere.”

“These aliens violated the homeworld by their presence.”

“Speak for yourself. I was manufactured on Venus Station Five. And you’re not wrong. I myself am extremely curious as to why these various aliens have put themselves at such substantial risk to come to this hellhole.”

Jack was about to answer, but Starlight stopped her. “No,” she said. “I want information first.”

“Hmm,” said Maria. “A bit of a renegade. Well, information for information, then. A fair trade.”

“Where are we? What is this place?”

“Precinct 67185, district ten. Northwestern hemisphere.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yes it is. You are just ignorant.”

“What she means is, this is a police station. Basically. Kind of,” said James.

“Police?” said Jack. “Seriously? You?”

“I needed something to do,” said James, shrugging. “You try being a war hero. They just want to make you retire or sit behind some desk. Give speeches or something. That’s not what I signed up to the Alliance for. So I reupped my contract with Planetary Defense.”

“And needless to say,” said Maria, “he has performed excellently. Even if he is much more limited than we are.”

“I would hardly call him limited,” said Jack. “I mean, do you have any idea how many pullups this guy can do?”

“I don’t mean it in a capacity sense. I mean that Earth is inhospitable to human life. No. To any life.”

“Yeah,” admitted James. “Just breathing the air here probably cut twenty years off my life. But hey, why not die young and pretty? It’s better than having to deal with my ex-wife. Or my ex-husband. Damn alimony.”

“What happened?” asked Jack. “To the planet, I mean. It wasn’t like this before.”

“What happened?” laughed Maria. “You already know what happened. You were here. The Reaper War happened. Hundreds, even thousands of ships detonated in the atmosphere. Alliance, Reaper, who knows what else. All that death out there? Eezio fallout.”

“Element zero?” said Starlight. “But it’s nontoxic.”

“To you. To her, probably. But Earth is somewhat unique in the galaxy. It has no natural source of element zero. This isn’t Thessia. Eezio is toxic to Earth life. All those ships blowing up? They killed the planet. Almost everything on it died.”

“That explains the wendigoes,” said Starlight.

“Oh no,” said James. “They’re not mutants or anything. They’ve been here for a lot longer. Somewhere. Somehow. Maybe a real long time. The war just sort of, I don’t know, let them out.”

“They are one of the only things that can survive here,” said Maria. “Apart from synths. The human population of Earth is likely less than ten thousand, mostly engineers for the automated factories. The synth population numbers in the tens of millions.”

“This planet used to have twenty billion people,” said Starlight.

“And then the Reapers came. At this point, the only purpose Earth serves is as a place to keep the factories and as a dumping ground for scrap. And it’s Planetary Defense’s job to protect that sort of stuff.”

“From you,” added William.

“Yeah, like we want any of this stuff,” said Jack.

“Several of the factories in this district are of significant tactical importance.”

“And you just told them,” sighed Maria. “Did your parents invest any money in your central processor?”

“Yeah,” said James. “Not about Willy’s processor. About the freaky stuff they’re making. I mean, that big one, up north? The one that makes the fev?”

“Fev?” said Starlight. “What is fev? You mean FEV?”

“Yeah, the fev. That green smelly stuff. Remember Kevin?”

“I remember the paperwork,” said Maria.

“What happened to Kevin?” asked Starlight.

“He fell in. What came out…well, it wasn’t Kevin anymore. Freaky stuff, man.”

“Which is why PD employs almost exclusively synths. And convicts. James is a bit of an anomaly.” Maria jumped down from her perch. Her body did not react to motion like a human’s would; it was quite apparent that she was built differently, with the intention of being far faster and stronger than any human normally would be. “No, tiny horse.”

“Starlight. My name is Starlight.”

“Starlight. This is a good name. I have a cousin named Star. Regardless of that fact…”

“Your question. I know. We’re here because we have information that Earth is about to be attacked.”

William laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. “Attack Earth? Ridiculous!”

“Kind of, yeah,” said James. “I mean, who would want this place?”

Maria did not seem to be laughing. “And you did not contact Alliance headquarters? We have a contact form for that sort of thing.” She sighed. “Nobody ever fills out the contact form…”

“Nothing could attack earth,” said William. “This is the most heavily defended place ever to have existed in the entire galaxy. The system defenses were specifically designed to stop Reapers, should they ever come back. Nothing can get through.”

“You haven’t seen this thing,” said Starlight. “It attacked a fortification that makes the Sol system look like a sandcastle.”

“And we should believe this, why?”

“You don’t have to,” said Starlight. “I’m only telling you why I’m here: to destroy that ship. I did not come to ask for your help, or to warn you. I came here to wait.”

“You came to one of the most toxic and heavily guarded planets in the galaxy to…wait?”

“I just said that. Did I stutter?”

James elbowed Jack. “I can see why you hang out with her. She’s a tough caballito.”

“Indeed,” said Maria. “Fine, then.”

“Commander,” said William, “you can’t be serious- -”

“Does this look like a joking face to you, William?” She pointed at her artificial face.

“No.”

“Then I’m not joking. If the threat is credible- -hell, even if it isn’t- -I have to look into it. As long as they stay in the compound, they’ll be fine. And besides. You have a turian to find.”

They all looked around, and realized that Beri was nowhere in sight.

“Honestly, I kind of forgot about her,” said Jack.

“The rest of you, you’re James’s problem now.”

“Hey, wait a minute- -”

“Or you can go help William find the turian.”

“Eh, no. The first option was better.”

“Good.” Maria looked down at Starlight. Starlight was not sure if her eyes were purely cosmetic or if they actually functioned, but her glare was piercing. “You, though. Don’t go too far out of my sight.”

“Fine,” said Starlight. “Just be ready. Because she will be here. Soon.”

Chapter 31: It Begins

Far on the periphery of Alliance space, the blockade of enemy alien ships started to weaken. One by one they pulled away, their formations continually readjusting to become thinner and thinner until nearly none were left. Rather than squander this boon, the Alliance vessels on the other side began to move forward, penetrating the neutral zone and expanding Alliance territory into the areas where the blockade had become the weakest. None of these were especially strategic locations, but for the Alliance, any territory expansion was tactically positive. In the process, though, their own defensive perimeter began to disperse and become increasingly disorganized.

Their fortune did not last long. Alliance long-range telescopes quickly began to sound warnings throughout the border, indicating that something was approaching- -and approaching fast. The various humans manning the post were initially confused, wondering how something so big could be moving so fast, and where it had come from, aside from the darkspace that sat just beyond the Sol system.

Knowing what was going on at the Citadel, the alarm was sounded throughout the fleet that a Reaper invasion may be imminent. By the time this information got to the various ships, though, it was too late. The Crimson Horizon did not even slow as it crossed their borders, obliterating several battleships unfortunate enough to be caught in its path.

The remaining ships were far too slow to keep up with it until it slowed down at the border of the Sol system. As it did, Sunset Shimmer stood in the emptiness of the bridge, her drones surrounding her as they jockeyed for interface positions on the curved walls and ceiling.

As anticipated, the Alliance ships took offense to her presence. They attacked. Sunset Shimmer watched violently as their projectiles impacted her dimensional shield. She felt every blow, but compared to the Reapers, they were nothing more than dull, distant thuds on the outside of her shell.

“Why?” she asked, knowing that no one apart from herself would hear. “Why would you even bother?”

She raised her hand, and closed her fist. A wave of biotic energy poured out from the Crimson Horizon in every direction. The smallest of the ships attempted to avoid it, but none succeeded. On impact, the Alliance ships were knocked back and their surfaces erupted in powerful but silent explosions as their primitive mass cores detonated.

“So primitive,” said Sunset Shimmer as she pushed the Crimson Horizon forward, crushing the insignificant and disabled starships in her path. “You have not even begun to evolve.”

Her guns erupted, eliminating the stragglers who were still desperately trying to regroup. Slowly, Sunset Shimmer turned around and walked to her chair. She sat down, propping her chin on her hand as she watched the planet called Earth approach.

It was not a pretty world, and Sunset could not fathom why Starswirl had chosen this obscure and pointless rock. Still, she knew it was the correct location. The response of the Key of Korviliath confirmed it as it slowly vibrated, as if trying to draw nearer to the machine that it was a part of.

Sunset lowed, taking up orbit in the upper atmosphere. With a sudden surge of energy, she pulled apart the planet’s debris field, only to retract it around herself, reconstructing and molding it into a spherical outer shell. As she did, an especially large orbiting satellite came into her peripheral perception: a sphereoid the size of a small planet with a long extension pointing downward from its body.

Upon seeing it, Sunset smiled. “Yes,” she said. “That will do nicely.”

She reached out and began to pull the Crucible toward herself, allowing it to pass through her shields. The Crimson Horizon shifted as it approached, folding open and extending its internal components to interface- -and to allow the drones inside to eliminate anything alive onboard that might interfere.

Sunset Shimmer shivered as it connected to her body, and in her central computer opened the schematic she had taken from the Citadel. “Oh yes,” she said. “This WILL do…”

Completing the connection between the Crucible and her body in its entirety would take time, even with the schematics. That was acceptable, and at the same time agonizing. Sunset was so close. She wanted so desperately to complete her mission, but at the same time knew that every step in her plan needed to be perfect in execution.

So, as she began construction, she directed her attention toward the planet below. It only took a moment of scanning before she found the signal. It was weak, and detecting it would have been possible without the resonance of the Key, even for her- -but it was there.

Sunset took a breath, and her gravity centrifuges began to hum to life. She smiled.

“Let’s pop the cork.”

At approximately the time Sunset Shimmer and the Crimson Horizon had entered the periphery of the Sol system, Starlight was walking through the upper floor of the Planetary Defense compound. She was nervous, and even afraid. It was a combination of emotions that she was all-too familiar with, but one that she had not felt in a long time. It had been how she had felt when she was weak and new to the world- -and despite everything she had sacrificed for her strength, she knew that compared to Sunset Shimmer, she was small and weak once again. For now.

As she paced, though, she eventually noticed that Flurry Heart was standing on the far end of the same level, staring out a dirty window. At first, Starlight did not want to approach her. She was too busy mentally preparing herself for what she would need to do- -but after several more passes, she realized that something was wrong.

Even then, Starlight contemplated going back downstairs to talk to Jack or Maria or to make sure that Zedok was recovering as well as the latter claimed, but instead she found herself walking to the filly’s side.

At first, she said nothing. They just looked out at the view together. It was hardly scenic. From the upper level of the compound, it was possible to see the thick outer wall that secured the base. Beyond that, it appeared that there had once bene a city. It had since been flattened almost completely, save for a few corroding fragments of buildings that had somehow managed to remain standing as a ghostly reminder of whatever civilization had once existed there. The road- -which had at one time been paved- -was clear of rubble but marked by two long, thick tiretracks made by the precinct’s beat up mako. Bordering it were several above-ground pipelines that followed the road for its duration to the factories beyond. In the distance, Starlight watched a wendigo pull a piece from a battered and rusted tank. It paused and looked at to them as though it was cognizant of their presence, and then scampered into the shadows on all fours with the component in its mouth.

“It isn’t supposed to be like this,” said Flurry Heart at last.

“What isn’t?” asked Starlight.

“War,” said Flurry Heart. “I don’t understand. Everything…everything is dead.”

“That’s what war does.”

“No,” said Flurry Heart, shaking her head angrily. “You don’t understand. War is supposed to be glorious, epic, the sort of thing we sing songs about. With Heroes like Sunburst slaying the evil enemies and protecting the righteous Empire. You take a planet, and conquer it, and then return home to parades and cheering. But this…”

“This is what it looks like from below, I guess,” said Starlight.

“But how? What happened to do this? Something…something must have gone wrong. They couldn’t have done it right. They must have failed somewhere.”

“That’s not how it works,” said Starlight. “I wasn’t there, but Jack was. From what she says, the Reapers came to kill. That’s it. They wanted everyone dead. Nobody could stop them, not at first. They tried, and barely made it out alive. So many planets ended up like this one.”

“Then the Reapers…were they good?”

“No.”

“They were evil, then?”

“No. They were just Reapers.”

“But that doesn’t make SENSE!” snapped Flurry Heart, stamping her foot into the ground. “It just doesn’t…”

“Do you want to hear a story?” asked Starlight.

“A story?” Flurry Heart seemed confused. “What kind of story?”

“One Jack told me. About when she was a lot younger.” Starlight pointed. “She fought in that War, you know.”

“She did?”

Starlight nodded. “But before that, she was a teacher.”

“Her? She doesn’t seem like that type.”

“Well, there was a time when she was a lot less mean. She was training biotics. What you would call wizards. Teaching them how to use their abilities. They weren’t much older than you, actually.”

“You mean like the way Sunburst taught me?”

Starlight nodded.

“But then…where are they now?”

“Dead,” said Starlight. “They died in the War. There were so few humans left that they sent children to fight on the front lines. The Reapers killed them, and she watched them die. There was nothing she could do to stop it.”

“That…that’s terrible! Why would you tell me a story like that?”

“I can do one better,” said Chrysalis, approaching from Flurry Heart’s other side. She was still maintaining a child version of Jack’s form, and barely stood as tall as Starlight’s head. “Tell me, child, have you ever seen the changeling homeworld?”

“No,” admitted Flurry Heart. “Sunburst never let me go that far into that sector.”

“And he had good reason to.” Chrysalis put her hand on the window. “It looks a lot like this. Or nearly so. Except there is no destruction. A hive built for billions of changelings, and it’s all empty. All silent. No motion, no life. Just an empty planet.”

“What…what happened?”

“War. No…you couldn’t even call it that. More like slaughter. You were not born yet. You would not remember the events, but I do. I can’t ever forget.”

“It was Cadence, wasn’t it?” said Starlight.

Chrysalis nodded, and then shook her head. “No. Cadence was the instrument of our doom, but I cannot lie. The cause was mine and mine alone. I attempted to gain power through subterfuge and deception, and I challenged a god. I failed, and for my crimes, she exterminated my people.”

“No,” said Flurry Heart. “That’s not possible. There’s no record of a war- -”

“Because there wasn’t one. There was no time. No ships, no bombing, no weapons. They just died. All at once. The entire planet. I watched my children fall. They just…dropped. And then, like that, I was alone. Alone on a planet with billions upon billions of my dead children.”

“But- -you were evil. You brought that upon yourself by betraying my Mother.”

“I did,” said Chrysalis. “But did they?”

Flurry Heart’s eyes widened as she realized what Chrysalis meant and the magnitude of the genocide dawned on her. She suddenly seemed on the verge of tears.

“That is what Sunburst meant. Why he didn’t want you to become a soldier,” said Starlight. “He was trying to warn you. Because if you become like him, you will have to make decisions. Hard ones, the kind that end a lot of lives. And he didn’t want to force that life onto you.”

“She is correct,” said Chrysalis. “If you intend to enter a war, you need to be prepared for the consequences, and be prepared to lose so much of what you love.”

Chrysalis seemed to be addressing her warning to Flurry Heart, but instead she was looking directly into Starlight’s eyes.

One level down, Jack and James were sitting at a makeshift bar in a largely empty cafeteria. It was not a large room, but the size of it seemed to indicate that the facility was intended to have a much larger human population. As far as Jack could tell, though, the only human present was James, which resulted in most of the tables being covered in a thin layer of dust.

“Here,” said James, handing Jack a plastic container. “You’ve got to try this.”

Jack picked up the container but then recoiled at the horrible smell emanating from it. “Holy crap! What the hell is that stuff?”

“Rations,” said James, laughing as he took the container and started shoveling whatever it was into his mouth. “Best food in the whole Alliance fleet down here for the PD.”

“It smells like roadkill.”

“Because part of it is.”

Jack hoped he was joking. Seeming to notice her displeasure, James stood up from his stool and walked behind the bar. “Don’t tell Maria I have this,” he said, reaching down into the bar below and pulling out a dusty and scratched bottle of brown fluid. “Scavenging without a permit is super illegal, but sometimes you find really good stuff in the ruins.” His expression fell as he started to pour the liquor. “About as often as you find things you really wish you hadn’t.”

“If you ever find my legs, let me know,” said Jack, taking a shot.

“Starting to miss those tattoos, eh?”

“Starting to miss being able to walk without horrible pain.”

“Oh,” said James, returning to his seat and sipping his own alcohol. They were both silent for a long, awkward moment before James spoke. “You know, I didn’t think I’d ever see you of all people on this godforsaken rock.”

“Neither did I. Second time I’ve ever been to Earth, and I can’t help but feel like it’s going to end like the first did.”

“The first time didn’t end that bad. We won.”

“No. The Alliance won. Or the Citadel. Or if you listen to the cow-eyed historians, the ‘whole galaxy’ won. But we lost.”

“You miss him.”

“Eat shit.”

“Yeah,” said James. “I do to. But not like you do. I didn’t know him for all that long, but damn…he was one impressive son of a bitch.”

“You should have seen him in bed.”

“Frankly, I wish I had. Except that you probably would have blown my head off. And then decapitated me.”

“I almost punched out Tali once for something just like that.”

“Really? Tali?” James laughed, but his laughter quickly trailed off. “Yeah…she was hot. We all knew it. You know what happened to her, though? After what happened on Rannoch, when they lost? Goddamn…the geth didn’t even let her die properly…”

“I’d rather not think about it,” said Jack, taking a swig directly from the bottle and passing it to James. “There’s a hell of a lot of things I’d rather not think about.”

James took the bottle. “Yeah. I can drink to that.”

They continued to sit in silence, although this time far less awkward- -when Jack suddenly shot off her stool.

“What the hell?” said James, confused. “Jack’ what’s wrong?”

“She’s here,” she said. “She’s here!”

As if to punctuate her realization, the ground suddenly started to shake. The tremor was not trivial, but bordered on the apocalyptic. Every object started moving, and Jack heard the whiskey bottle shattered against the concrete floor. James clung to the bar, but Jack was already moving.

She burst through the door to the outside just before the others did. When she looked up in the sky, she felt her breath catch, as though she had lost the ability to breath. It was just like that day a quarter of a century before.

The clouds of the sky had been disrupted, separating into a clear circle that revealed a distant object. It looked like a second moon, but Jack could feel the familiar presence emanating from it, and she watched as several beams from its hull pulled disproportionately massive chunks of soil and rock from the earth below.

“What are you all…” Maria’s sentence was silenced by another seismic wave, and her artificial eyes widened as she looked up. “Oh hell no. You weren’t kidding!”

Starlight teleported to Jack’s side. “So you do believe me.”

“I do now.”

“Commander!” cried William. “We’re detecting seismic disturbances on- -”

“I can feel the seismic disturbances, William!” Maria turned back to the compound, her expression deadly serious. “This is a code Black.”

“A Code Black? But that’s impossible. There’s never been- -”

Sirens suddenly started wailing in the distance, echoing off the now fully collapsed buildings around the base.

“Impossible, he says. You! All of you! The planet is losing geological stability! This is a total evacuation! Everybody off!”

Jack looked down at Starlight, who’s eyes were locked on the ship overhead.

“So, what’s our plan?”

“I need to go,” said Starlight.

“You mean we need to go.”

Starlight shook her head. “No. You need to get to safety. She only wants to see me.”

“Star,” said Jack, “wait, you’re not- -”

“You would just try to stop.”

There was a blue flash, and Jack shielded her eyes. When she lowered her arms, Starlight was gone. She had teleported. Alone.

Chapter 32: The Gate

Sunset Shimmer materialized in a dark stone corridor. It took a moment for her to resynchronized with the Crimson Horizon, and for the scanners on her remote exoskeleton to determine where she was. When it completed the process, she looked around. It was immediately apparent that she was not in a structure that was built by human hands. The architecture was clearly Equestrian, but not a type that had been seen in over five thousand years- -and even then, only by a select few. It was clear that it had been constructed by wizards for their own use. The underground system was built with absolute precision toward a strictly utilitarian purpose, but with a subtle element of the mysterious flare that the ancient mages where known for.

From the look of it, though, it had been empty for some time. The stone was dark and moist, and even with most of a continent floating overhead, it was still buried far deeper than any human would have ever been willing to look.

There was little point in admiring it, though, aside from the knowledge that it had finally reached the end of its millennia-long journey toward its ultimate goal. Sunset Shimmer pressed through the darkness, hearing the click of her boots echo off the lonely walls as she moved toward the center.

The complex was large- -immense, even- -but Sunset knew exactly where to go. Within a few minutes of walking and admiring the worn inscriptions on the damp and moldering walls, she reached the central chamber: an enormous domed room with the bricks of its floor arranged in complex concentric circles, with hollow channels running between them.

Runes ran up the dome and demarcated its purpose. Sunset Shimmer could read most of them, but even she could only understand part of the machine’s operation. She had built the Crimson Horizon twice, once in its simple, young form and again in its current incarnation, but the simultaneous simplicity and complexity of this system impressed even her.

While admiring the size and intricacy of the atrium, Sunset felt her foot touch something on the floor. She looked down to see several brittle bones skitter across the floor. She realized that the absolute center of the room was surrounded by skeletons of ponies, their fragile bones dressed in decayed fabric. These were the wizards who had constructed this machine, and who had died along with it, taking their knowledge of its operation with them.
` Sunset kicked them out of the way. They were of no consequence. Their names had been swallowed by history and forgotten. There was only one of them that truly mattered.

At the far end of the room, a kind of throne was built into one end of the wall where the dome inexplicably flattened. It was tethered to the system above by a number of cobweb-encrusted ancient cables. In it sat a skeleton, his jaw hanging open in a wide grin and the extensive implants in his vertebral column still attached to the machinery behind him.

It was impossible to know what his purpose had been there- -if he had supported the operations of the machine to the last, or if it had been what had kept him alive for his impossibly long life. That distinction did not concern Sunset Shimmer, though. Either way, he had failed before his master work had been completed.

The implants he wore extended around his torso, linking to a kind of primitive containment suit. It must have been bulky and agonizing to wear, and from the tatters of his robes, it seemed that he had hidden its presence. With it revealed, though, Sunset could see the indentation in the front.

She lifted the Key of Korviliath, and felt it vibrating with anticipation. Stepping forward, she inserted it into the slot in the long-dead pony’s chest.

The room immediately reacted, causing Sunset Shimmer to take a step back in surprise. The dark chamber was suddenly illuminated with a powerful blue light, and inert-looking system linked to the skeleton charged with energy from the crystal.

As Sunset watched, the skeleton leaned forward. Its bones clicked and linked their joints back together, motivated by the same blue light that seemed to fill the room. The blue light then condensed into the ancient bones, resolving around them and condensing into something that almost appeared to be matter. It assumed color, although not full opacity. Within seconds, a gray-eyed, bearded pony was staring back at Sunset Shimmer, his bones still visible through the projection that made up his skin.

He leaned forward, and then pushed himself off the throne. The cables attached to the rusted metal in his back tugged at him, and he seemed confused as to why they were linked to him. He gave them a shake, and they fell away. Then he looked up at Sunset Shimmer.

“Starswirl the Bearded?” she asked, in awe of being in the presence of the first Core ever to have existed.

Starswirl frowned, his face taking on an appearance of intense age and sadness. “No,” he said. “I’m afraid I’m not. Not anymore. I died centuries ago now…or maybe longer. What you perceive before you is nothing more than a shadow, a fragment of what I once was. A piece of me left behind to serve as the access point to the Gate.” He looked down at his chest, and, upon seeing the Key of Korviliath, looked profoundly disappointed. “So, Sambra has failed. The Key has been returned. I had prayed to my beloved Celestia that this day would never come.”

“But it has,” said Sunset. “Don’t be so sad, old stallion. You should be happy. I’ve come to complete what you started.”

Starswirl’s eyes narrowed. “No. You could not possibly know what I in my arrogance had started.”

“But I do.” Sunset laughed. “Because I am the conclusion of it. Everything you created, it has become ME.”

“If that were true, you would not be here,” said Starswirl, coldly.

Sunset’s blind eyes narrowed. “You are perceptive for being dead so long. Yes. I’m almost done. I have almost completed our goal. But I need the Gate. It’s the final piece.”

“The Gate ought not to be opened. You cannot possibly understand the cost.”

Part of Sunset’s face twitched. “You have no idea what I had to go through to get that crystal.”

“Don’t I? Sambra was my closest friend as a colt, and I know him better than any pony could. We had our differences, but he would not give you this Key willingly. It was never meant to return to this place.”

“But why?” demanded Sunset as Starswirl started to walk the perimeter of the room, looking longingly down at his long-deceased comrades. “You finished it! The device, it’s complete. Fully operational with that Key. Why did you never use it?”

“Because,” said Starswirl, sharply, “I built it. And I understand the toll it will take on this planet better than any pony could.”

“This planet? This planet is meaningless. A backwater world of primitive, unevolved apes. They can hardly even use magic.”

“And yet you choose to take their form.”

“If only you knew…”

“Don’t I?” He sighed. “Or does it even matter? You would never see what I did. Yes, I originally came to this planet with the thought that it might be irreparably damaged upon the full activation of the Gate. A planet with an atmosphere, with arable land, but without magic. But time changes all things.”

“Time made you weak.”

“No, it killed me. But before that, I grew fond of this world, and the people it houses. I cannot help but wonder if I would have been so limited in my views and scope if I had been born as a man instead of a stallion, what I might have accomplished without the arrogance of a unicorn.”

“Heresy.”

“By what god? Or do you mean yourself?”

“I am the only god of consequence. Or will be.” Sunset stepped forward. “Assuming you will open the gate.”

“As I said,” said Starswirl. “I am nothing more than an interface. I don’t have free will. Just the distant memory of the dying thoughts of an elderly stallion as he lay dying all alone. I was created to open the Gate, and I will do so. But first…”

“What?”

“Tell me, child. How is it that you knew of this place? The knowledge of its location died with us, and I took great pains to hide it. Even Sambra did not know. And yet, somehow, you stand here before me. How?”

Sunset opened her mouth to answer, but then stopped. For a brief moment, she was confused, and for some reason frightened. She knew the location, but she did not know why, or where that information had come from. She could not recall ever having been told it, or discovering it. She simply knew.

“I see,” said Starswirl. “And I’m so, so sorry.”

“For what?”

Starswirl did not answer. He just took one last look at her, and then stepped toward the center of the room. When he reached the golden platform in the center, his body dissipated. The ancient magic that created his body dissipated, taking his bones with it. The platform raised as the floor telescoped upward, and a new set of cables descended from the apex of the dome. In the floor, the channels cut through the stone illuminated with blue light, and rows on the dome began to glow with deep-red runes.

The process had begun, and Sunset watched. She was happier than she had ever been in her entire life, but somehow this all felt wrong. There was something she was missing, although she did not know what.

As the room began to collapse as the dome began to implode, Sunset turned away. She engaged Xyuka’s transwarp system and felt her body fade as she materialized elsewhere. Her only consolation as she left was the fact that a new guest had just arrived to the Crimson Horizon.

Chapter 33: Confrontation of Cores

The air rushed away from Starlight’s presence with a loud pop, and she materialized in the halls of the Crimson Horizon. What first struck her was the air. It was warm and humid, with a strange sour smell that made it only marginally breathable. The second thing she realized was how dark it was. The convoluted, organic-looking walls had no lights, but instead glowed with the dim light from their magic distribution channels.

Starlight looked over her shoulder through a window forged from pure diamond. Outside, she could see the edges of the shell that surrounded the Crimson Horizon and, through a gap in them, the Earth below. Much of the largest northern continent had been pulled from the planet, upended by Sunset Shimmer’s biotic power. In the depths, Starlight watched in a mixture of awe and horror as something ignited with blue light the size of a country.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” said a voice. Starlight turned suddenly to see a tall woman with sickly yellow skin and orange and red hair standing not far from her. She looked just like she had in Starlight’s dream, except that in the place of her robes she wore a complex metal suit that was integrated with her Core implants.

“The planet can’t sustain something like that. It will tear itself apart.”

“And nothing of value will be lost.”

Starlight looked down again, and saw a number of lights pierce through the clouds. Thousands of rockets were pouring into the atmosphere from every landmass. Some appeared to reach the upper atmosphere, but those approaching near the Crimson Horizon were not so lucky. They were either shattered in the chaotic debris field between the ship and the planet or sucked back into the exponentially propagating singularity below.

“A lot of people are going to die because of you,” said Starlight.

“No. By my definitions, there is no sentient life on that planet.”

“Then you are either wrong or insane.”

“Am I really?”

“What even are you?” asked Starlight, slowly taking account of the room around her. It was a relatively large room, with her and Sunset apparently standing on platform. The size was certainly tolerable, but the absolute lack of cover was not. “You’re not a pony.”

“I am a Core. Just as you are.”

“Equestria doesn’t make Cores out of humans.”

“Because Equestria didn’t make me.”

“Then who did?”

“I DID. From the ashes of my pony self. From the fragments of my dying ship. From my weakness, I created strength. And from the look of the sheer amount of alien technology in your body, it looks like you have been trying to do the same.”

“That does bring up the question, doesn’t it?” said Starlight, bracing herself. “You’re this ship’s Core. Without all that steel and all those heavy guns, which one of us do you think is stronger?”

Sunset Shimmer smiled. “You’re actually intending to fight me, aren’t you?”

“You just blew a hole in my best friend’s homeworld and attacked the Crystal Empire, which I’m actually kind of fond of. So, yeah. I’m going to end this here. You’re going to die.”

Before Sunset Shimmer could react, Starlight jumped to the side, firing a beam from her horn. Sunset reacted by nonchalantly raising one of her hands, producing a solid shield of orange biotic energy that easily deflected the beam- -only for her to turn much more quickly as she was forced to block twelve simultaneous biotic bolts flying in from all angles.

Starlight watched her react, and saw the events unfolding in slow-motion as the implants in her brain compensated for the speed of the battle and redirected her core biotic energy into the numerous amplifiers implanted within her bones and brain. Her tech implants ran several calculations, and she watches as Sunset Shimmer slowly moved into her predicted least balanced position. That was when Starlight unleashed a shockwave that would have made Jack proud.

Sunset, however, was not as weak as her frail and sickly body made her seem. She effortlessly moved from blocking the bolt impact to projecting her own field, a v-shaped surge that slammed directly into Starlight’s shockwave, deflecting it and forcing Starlight to dodge.

“Are you really fighting for that planet, Starlight Glimmer?” said Sunset, calmly returning to a standing position and deflecting another beam from Starlight’s horn. “Are you actually fighting to protect anypony? Anyone at all? Or are you fighting to become me?”

Sunset raised her hand and space distorted as she fired her own attack. Starlight generated a simultaneous defense matrix and biotic shield, but both were shattered by only a glancing blow from the attack. For the first time, Starlight actually felt afraid. Sunset had barely been trying, but a direct impact from a blast like that would be lethal.

By showing her power, though, Sunset had also shown her weakness. Starlight was maintaining an active close-range scan, and a quick analysis of the data that she was recording indicated that Sunset’s armor charged with a massive subspace field just before firing.

Starlight smiled. “Yeah,” she said. “You’ve got me.”

“Then why are we fighting? I called you here for a reason, Starlight. I don’t want to fight you.”

“Too bad,” said Starlight, emerging from a sudden teleport in the air directly behind Sunset and kicking her squarely in the back of the head. Sunset turned, confused by Starlight’s sudden tactic, only to be attacked from behind again by a small horde of combat drones.

She screamed in rage and fired a burst of energy into the drones, destroying several while the others dodged. “What magic is this?” she cried.

“Not magic,” said Starlight. “Technology.” She jumped backward, lifting her front hooves and projecting symmetric omnitools. With one, she fired a cryo blast, freezing one of Sunset’s arms solid. With the other, she engaged the calculations for a tactical cloak.

Sunset Shimmer clawed at her frozen arm, now highly annoyed. “Do you really think I can’t see you, Starlight?” She raised her arm and fired a concentrated beam. It tore through the air, shattering the tactical field- -of a tech decoy Starlight.

“Nope,” said Starlight, appearing in her real location, once again behind Sunset. She pointed a hoof at the junction between Sunset’s containment suit and her Core implants and engaged a tech overload algorithm. The orange beam struck directly on target, and Sunset screamed as her suit sparked and began to lose power.

“No!” she cried. “Why would you- -”

Starlight barely gave her a chance to turn around, let alone to continue her useless conversation. With the suit damaged, Sunset Shimmer’s overall power output was dropping precipitously. With this in mind, Starlight summoned as much power as she could, her body momentarily bursting forth with tech and biotic components that were normally part of her ship. Then she fired.

Sunset tried to raise a shield, but in her weakened state the barrier she produced barely lasted a fraction of a second. Starlight’s beam hit her with enough force to take down a starship, and the resulting interaction between their two energies produced a flare that momentarily saturated the photoreceptors in Starlight’s artificial eyes, blinding her.

When her vision returned, she saw that she had won. Sunset had been completely overtaken by the blast, and the effect was actually quite gruesome. Her upper body had been completely incinerated, leaving a pair of smoking legs attached to the bottom of a ragged torso that had promptly fallen over. Her suit continued to spark, but it was immediately apparent that she was thoroughly dead.

Slowly, Starlight caught her breath, and then steadied herself. The battle was over, though, and she had won. She considered this for a moment, savoring the feeling of victory while simultaneously hating herself for being forced to do what she had just done. Then she slowly approached Sunset Shimmer’s remains.

Suddenly, the walls shifted. Starlight jumped back as several flexible, snake-like conduits of various sizes shot forth from the wall. They did not reach for her, though, but converged with their ends held in the air near each other a few yards from Sunset’s corpse.

Several of the conduits burst open, their endings filled with writhing robotic tendrils and vomiting organic fluid. The organic fluid poured down from them, forming a viscous pile as the ends of other cables split and propagated into machine components. An orange light surrounded the mass as it took on a red color and began to resolve. To Starlight’s horror, she watched as bones and muscle began to form around a rapidly self-assembling set of Core implants.

Within seconds, the organic mass has assembled itself into a humanoid shape, and the form dropped onto the floor. She flexed her fingers as the raw, skinless surface of her body bubbled and burst forth with patches of sickly yellow skin that quickly covered her entire body. Starlight watched eyes form, and hair, and even a set of ornate robes weave themselves from the tissues of her skin.

Then, finally, Sunset Shimmer looked down at Starlight with her wide blue eyes. Several of the cables clicked into the Core implants in her back, interfacing her to the ship as the others retracted.

“Well done,” she said. “You killed me. Or would have, if I still had the capacity to die.”

“What- -what the hell are you?”

“I already told you. I am a Core.” Sunset took a breath with her newly built lungs and smiled. “Now, Starlight, are you willing to listen to reason?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Of course. You can leave whenever you want. I won’t stop you.” She started walking. “Or you can come with me. You wanted my power, didn’t you? That was your reason for coming here? It may seem strange to you, but I’m actually willing to share.”

Sunset began walking, the cables in her back disconnecting from the walls and reconnecting as she moved, always retaining a connection and performing the function that her now destroyed remote suit had been before. Starlight looked behind her at the dying world below and charged her horn- -but found herself failing to complete the teleportation sequence. Instead, she began to follow Sunset Shimmer into the long and dark halls of the Crimson Horizon.

They did not speak. Sunset seemed to have no desire to, or even really to notice Starlight. She just kept walking deeper into the ship, and Starlight followed at a distance. Though Sunset seemed able to move without any source of light- -as if by memory alone- -Starlight needed to light her horn for her synthetic eyes to be able to see anything except gray static.

She quickly became aware of the fact that they were not alone. The ship was populated by strange, mutated constructs that wandered along the floor and ceilings. They would sometimes stop to watch Starlight, their eyes reflecting longingly in her magic. Despite their appearance, Starlight did not see them as any more threatening than a kind of insect. More disturbing to her were the surgical scars covering their bodies that indicated what they had once been.

The ship itself almost resembled the hollows of some enormous cave, or the center of some kind of convoluted plant. It was not like any ship Starlight had seen, with the sweeping walls as likely to end in a pool of water or other fluid as they were to terminate in ornate, fungoid interfaces of the kind that continually maintained their connection to Sunset Shimmer herself.

This design, however, did not stay constant. The organic, hive-like halls eventually became increasingly technological in nature and the architecture more orderly as many hundreds of paths of varying sizes converged. Starlight was not sure where they converged until she saw a light ahead. It was not a normal light, though. Not white, really, but not red either. It was somewhere between, like the bright orange glow of a setting sun.

She emerged into a brightly lit room. It was not quite dome-shaped, but it was open high, with a ceiling that must have been at least a hundred feet high, but from its curves it looked like it may have gone even beyond that. Its only primary feature was an enormous metal sphere linked to the walls and to the slope of the ceiling by thousands of cables and conduits.

The bottom of the room, likewise, was not unoccupied. The room seemed to be swarming with the constructs, which sat against the walls and sometimes meandered across the floor, accessing panels that were imbedded in it to perform their nameless and unspoken tasks. The constructs were not alone, though. Joining them were several more Sunset Shimmers, each identical to the first and each linked to a system of ports by the implants in their spines. They were far less common, but Starlight counted at least five, all overseeing the work of the others.

“You have impressed me,” said Sunset at last. “And not only by destroying one of my avatars. You were there. In the Crystal Empire.”

“I was,” admitted Starlight, eying the various aspects of the room and formulating several contingency plans for when this conversation inevitably went wrong.

“And you were beautiful. Such grace, such power. Enough mental fortitude to construct an entire starship around yourself. I could not help but want to take you for myself.” She smiled, looking up at the sphere. “There are very, very few like us, Starlight Glimmer,” she said. “Almost any unicorn can become a Core, but only a few were born for it.”

Starlight’s eyes narrowed. “No pony is born for this.”

“Aren’t we?” said Sunset, turning sharply. She was still smiling, and her dead eyes looked almost alive. “Surely you’ve felt it. The power. Or maybe you haven’t noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

“That most unicorns can barely hold a pen to write their own name with their magic. Have you ever realized just how powerful you are? Part of that power is from the unicorn you were, of course- -but most of it is from the Core you became.” Sunset Shimmer walked forward, the floor of the room clearing as she walked beneath the sphere in its center. “They are so weak compared to us. So small. Insignificant and limited by their primitive biology. They see us as their creations. And they’re wrong.”

“Then what are we.”

Sunset turned around sharply, facing Starlight. “We are the future!”

She raised her hands above her head, and the metal sphere occupying the center of the room split down its center. The shell shifted, pulling away from the connections that penetrated it, and the machinery that held it in place hummed to life to pull the casing away, revealing what was beneath.

The orange light that filled the room immediately became far more intense as it poured from the opening, and Starlight covered her eyes. Through the shadow of her hoof, she watched as the shell retracted, revealing that which it covered. Starlight watched, and when she finally comprehended what she was seeing, she felt the urge to scream- -but only a weak croak came from her mouth. Her horror was visceral and intense, but the implication that her logical mind still managed to comprehend was far worse.

The spherical shell had concealed a writhing mass of golden flesh. As Starlight watched, the torturous surface of the internal sphere shifted, its uneven surface opening in places with uneven and misplaced eyes, all blue, and all focused on Starlight. When it saw her, it shifted against the cables and pylons that bound, opening up numerous deformed mouths as if to speak. Only echoing, unintelligible language came out as its tongues dripped saliva and fluids. It seemed to reach out with a combination of tentacles and incompletely formed limbs, both hands and hooves, and far too many of them. Its entire surface- -whether it be raw, scaled, or covered in thick chitinous plate- -seemed to undulate and shake from the force of its motion within.

“We are the logical conclusion of Equestrian evolution!” proclaimed Sunset as her avatar connected to the cybernetic ports in her true body overhead.

“What- -what have you done?” cried Starlight, staring up at what Sunset truly was as she stared back down at the miniscule Core below her. “Oh god, what did you do to yourself?!”

Sunset frowned. “Ah. Well, I suppose the face of God is rarely beautiful. Beauty, after all, has no effect on power. But wouldn’t your own heart be hideous if viewed through your own open chest? Please, Starlight. I know you can understand. I am but the Core, the heart, the mind of the Crimson Horizon. I am it, and it is me. We are the same organism.”

Starlight was not sure what to say, but she could not look away. There was just a morbid fascination to watching the writhing and grotesque thing overhead. It was the Core of the Crimson Horizon, the source of its unimaginable power- -and it was Sunset Shimmer. Starlight found that she did, in fact, understand what Sunset meant. She understood all too well.

“I have seen your desires, Starlight,” said Sunset, now somewhat calmer. She stepped forward, backlit with her own glow. She really did look like an angel- -or a goddess. “Even now, I can see it. How hideous I must look to you, and yet you do not run. Or attack.”

“Where could I run? What damage could I do to you? You’re too powerful for me to fight.” Starlight felt herself saying it before her mind had fully acknowledged that fact, but she knew that it was true. She could feel the corona of energy pouring off of Core Sunset. It was more than a sensation of death. It was an apocalyptic glow- -and yet, somehow, Starlight still held out hope. Because something in that glow was wrong. Part of its horror, Starlight realized, was because something critical was missing. She was just not sure what.

“But we don’t have to be enemies. Our goals are the same. They always have been. That mark carved into your flank? You crave equality for our people. And I am their salvation. You would never have been powerful enough to free them, but I am.”

Starlight was still unsure, but Sunset seemed sincere. It occurred to her that if Sunset was telling the truth, then she was right. Starlight had been so fixated on taking on her enemies all alone that she had not even considered the possibility that the Crimson Horizon could be an ally more powerful than any Reaper implant could make her.

Sunset continued. “And I can repeat the process. If you wish it so, I can make you as powerful as I am. I can build you Equality.”

“But I would have to become like you,” said Starlight, addressing the spheroid mass of flesh. Its eyes were still on her, watching.

“Tell me, Starlight. If that gave you the power to defeat Equestria, would you?”

“Yes,” said Starlight without hesitation. “Yes I would.”

“Then you understand why I became what I became. I traded my pony form for power, and built myself a new body. And I have no regrets.”

“But it doesn’t justify what you did to Earth. Or the Crystal Empire.”

“Collateral damage,” said Sunset dismissively.

“No. Don’t give me that. They had no part in this war. The humans, the synths, the ponies, they didn’t need to get hurt.”

“Yes, they did,” sighed Sunset. “Do you think Cadence would simply allow me to take the Key? Or that the humans would simply let me use the Gate at my leisure? What would be the point in having all this power if I wasn’t able to simply take what I wanted?”

“The Gate?” said Starlight. “So it was a transportation device. The machine that Starswirl created.”

Sunset smiled. “You are even more promising than I expected. Such intelligence. Yes, it is a transportation system.”

“You intend to open a portal to Equestria. You’ll be able to bypass Celestia’s teleportation suppression field and attack directly.”

“You are correct,” said Sunset. “But not completely so. That is the beauty of this portal, and of the Crimson Horizon. There will be no battle, or war, or invasion. I will win our war in a single blow.”

“Forgive me if I remain incredulous.”

“Why? It is more than feasible.” Sunset turned around, twirling as she gestured to the room. “This ship has an internal energy dissemination matrix unlike any created before in all of history. With the portal open, I will take a single shot. The star that sustains Celestia will die, and with the Two Sisters being a symmetric pair, Luna will perish as well.”

Starlight’s eyes widened. “But that’s the star that Equestria Prime orbits- -if you destroy it, the entire system will be lost, and every pony on it!”

“Not every pony. At present, most Cores are contained in starships or in specialized casings. Assuming the planet is not in the direct path of my beam, the Cores will survive.”

“And the rest of the ponies?”

“If the planet does not shatter, they will freeze to death in a matter of hours.” Sunset laughed. “Which actually makes it easier on me. It’s far less work if they die on their own.”

“But there are tens of millions of ponies on- -”

“But that’s the point,” said Sunset, frowning. “I will kill the non-Cores on Equestria Prime. Then, with the galactic government crippled, I will remove the remainder and liberate our people.”

“What you’re talking about- -it’s genocide!”

“Exactly,” said Sunset. “Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing? We are the strong. The superior. Only we deserve to survive. It’s the only way to ensure the future of ponykind. Isn’t that what you wanted, Starlight? A world where all Cores could be equal?”

“NO!” shouted Starlight. “That’s not it- - not at all! I wanted to free them, but then to have them be EQUALS! To everypony else! To be treated like real ponies, not machines!”

The eyes on Sunset Shimmer’s true body narrowed. “Do you really think that is possible?” she hissed. “To live with inherently weak ponies? They would be afraid of you. Of your power. Yes, you could walk among them. You could pretend you were equal, but every time their eyes would go straight to the implants on your back. You can never be equal to them, Starlight. Because you are by definition their superior.”

“But I don’t want to be!” screamed Starlight. “You asked me if I would become like you to save our people? I would! But I would also give it all up! All I ever wanted was to be a pony, a REAL pony!”

“Why? Why would you want that?”

“Don’t you? Don’t you ever think about what your life would be like, if they hadn’t forced you to become a Core?”

“They didn’t force me. I was converted as an adult. It was the only way to evolve, the only path toward my destiny. I CHOSE to become a Core.”

Starlight’s jaw fell open. “You…you what?” she whispered. “You…you had everything. And you gave it up? For THIS?”

“I had nothing. Nothing of value. That life was worthless.”

“That life was everything I ever wanted! You- -you had a shot at everything I’ve ever dreamed of, and you THREW IT AWAY!”

Sunset did not respond, and Starlight just stood, panting in anger. Then Sunset sighed. “I suppose we are at an impasse, then,” she said. “Which is a pity. I had such HOPE for you, that you would see the truth. But even though I am a goddess, we are still Cores, and still equals. At least I succeeded with your counterpart.”

Starlight froze. “My counterpart?”

“There were three Cores in that battle, Starlight. One was badly damaged, an abortion infected by Cadence’s disease. Another was you. And a third was on the verge of death. It is her who will take the place you could have held. And she will be the one to kill you.”

Sunset took a step back, and Starlight suddenly felt something watching her from behind. She turned slowly to see a pony standing in the shadows of one of the room’s only entry corridor.

“Hello, Starlight,” said Trixie as she stepped into Sunset’s deep orange glow.

“Trixie?” said Starlight, confused at her presence- -and at her appearance. She had met Trixie before, but only once. Even after their brief time together, though, Starlight had come to think of Trixie as a friend. She had even offered her a chance to join her, but instead Trixie had chosen to return to Equestria, knowing fully well what that would mean for her as a Core.

She still had the same violet eyes and the same pale blue coat, but now those eyes had a glow of cruelty instead optimism and kindness. Her body was partially covered in external material. Part of it formed pieces of heavy armor, but a substantial portion of it was a brownish, contorted organic-looking mass that closely resembled what the Crimson Horizon appeared to be made out of. That machinery seemed to grow over her body, interfacing with the extensive implants in her spine. One tendril had even grown through the skin at her temple, where one of her neural access ports was installed. Starlight could see the tentacle-like protrusion beneath her skin, slowly twitching, and she realized that it was not alone. Various parts of her body were swollen where the machinery was burrowing beneath her skin.

“Lady Sunset,” she said, looking past Starlight. “She has refused your generosity?”

“We could not reach an arrangement. Do what you will to her.”

“I would be glad to,” said Trixie, grinning and slowly walking toward Starlight.

“Trixie, wait,” said Starlight, stepping back and to her side as the pair began to circle. “You’re my friend. I don’t want to fight you.”

“FRIEND? HA!” spat Trixie. “Do you really think you can call me that? After what you did?”

“I didn’t do anything! Don’t you remember? When I pulled you out of that ship? When we talked about what our lives were going to be like when we were free- -the horses, Trixie! Don’t you remember? We were going to see the non-talking Earth horses!”

Trixie’s horn ignited. There was not even a delay before Starlight felt the blow. Her armor largely withstood the blow, but it was a far greater impact than Starlight had been expecting. Trixie had always been much, much weaker than her- -but whatever Sunset Shimmer had done to her, her power output was now exponentially greater.

“What, were you expecting some weak, little attack?” mocked Trixie. “I’m not weak anymore, Starlight. You can’t look down on me now!”

Trixie struck again, but this time Starlight was ready. She teleported several feet to the left- -only to be struck by a biotic surge as she emerged from her spell. This blow hit with substantially more force, but unlike before, she had managed to summon a suit of tech-armor in time to dampen the blast.

“Trixie, why?” asked Starlight.

“Why? WHY? Because you left me with them! You left me to DIE!”

“No, I didn’t!” protested Starlight, “I offered to let you come with me!”

“I was scared! Terrified! I didn’t know how to live an independent life- -and you just let them take me!”

Trixie slammed another surge into Stralight’s position. It was less a beam and more of a fan, and Starlight managed to dodge it and avoid the remainder using a shield spell. She then parried by casting a much more powerful version of the same spell around Trixie, trapping her in an energy field that had the viscosity of solid crystal.

“What would you have me to? Kidnap you?”

Trixie’s eyes narrowed, and her horn glowed with blue energy as her body was surrounded by a blue corona that started to cut through Starlight’s spell effortlessly. “It doesn’t matter now. Because now you PAY.”

She fired a beam directly at Starlight, and Starlight blocked it with a tech barrier- -only to be sideswiped by a telekinetic surge that lifted her off her hooves and slammed her into a wall so hard that it knocked the wind out of her.

Trixie charged, screaming, her horn shining with intense white-light. She attempted to impale Starlight with it, but Starlight blocked it with her telekinetic field, holding Trixie back momentarily. She could feel the heat from Trixie’s horn washing over her, and she realized that Trixie really was trying to kill her.

“I’m sorry, Trixie,” said Starlight, summoning one of her omnitools and preparing an overload at the junction between Trixie’s Core implants and Sunset Shimmer’s technology.

“I would be careful if you choose to do that,” said Sunset over Trixie’s mad snarling and struggling. “If you separate the containment architecture from her implants, the feedback surge will kill her.”

For a fraction of a second, Starlight found herself still considering taking the shot. Horrified at herself, she instead teleported, replacing herself with a set of combat drones.

“Insects!” cried Trixie, striking at the drones as they fired their ineffective bolts of tech energy at her. “A worthless parlor trick at best!”

Starlight ignored her, instead charging toward Sunset- -only to be slammed from the side by a singularity. The impact hit with enough force that Starlight thought she felt something inside her crack, and she felt her automatic medigel channels activate.

“Don’t you touch her!” howled Trixie. “She’s the only one that ever helped me! I won’t let you hurt her!”

Starlight dodged another blast, but only barely. She was now beginning to understand the depth of her predicament. Even with her powers amplified, Trixie would still be little match for her, but only if she went all-out and unleashed her full power. If she did, though, there was no guarantee that Trixie would survive. In fact, the feedback of Starlight overcoming Trixie’s biotic defenses would likely be worse for her than a direct tech overload.

Looking at the bigger picture, though, Starlight quickly realized that her situation was much more dire- -and the fight far more pointless. Even if she had been heartless enough to murder Trixie, Sunset was still there, watching the fight as though it amused her. She was more than powerful enough to end Starlight with a mere thought. The fight was just a distraction. Sunset was only toying with her.

With this in mind, Starlight weighed her options and realized that there were none. She had already lost, since the moment she had set hoof on the Crimson Horizon. There had never really been any chance of intervening in the events that were unfolding, not without a more substantial plan. Starlight recognized her own arrogance, and cursed her failure for the number of lives it had likely cost.

She opened her omnitool and pointed it at Trixie. Trixie’s eyes widened, as if for a moment she thought that Starlight would actually kill her. Instead, Starlight fired of a cloud of ultra-bright but harmless flares. Trixie cried out and covered her eyes, and as she did, Starlight made her retreat, abandoning her efforts and teleporting off the Crimson Horizon.

Chapter 34: The Setting of the Sun

The ship shook violently, and there was a sound of objects rebounding off its metal surface. Jack looked at one of the already rusting walls and saw several dents appear- -and then a small hole as the tiniest of rocks cut through the metal.

“Oh damn!” cried James from the open cockpit of the craft. “Hole! HOLE!”

“Repairing,” said William, standing up even as the ship suddenly seemed to drop several meters below him. He stumbled but recovered, breaking a container on the wall containing emergency foam and pouring the sealant into the hole.

“James, what the HELL are you trying to do!” cried Jack.

“It’s not my fault! We’re going through one hell of a shit hailstorm here, and- -oh CRAP!”

The ship turned again, throwing Jack to her side. Her harness held her in place, but behind her, she watched as Darien- -who was too big for the seats- -was forced to brace himself. He was shaking and whimpering, but did not let go of Zedok even once.

“Huh?” said Zedok, partially awakened by the sudden jostling. “Where…oh damnit. Of all the times to wake up…”

“What the hell even is this thing?” demanded Beri, who, on account of being handcuffed to William, was now nearly standing even as they hit yet another barrage of horrific turbulence. “If this is what Alliance ships look like- -”

“It’s not,” said Maria, who had a deathgrip on the edges of her own seat. “This is genuine surplus. Usually used for- -” She closed her eyes as another set of rocks pounded against the ship, with one of them cracking the front cockpit glass. “- -interplanetary travel.”

“So you’re entire planetary evacuation system relies on THESE?”

“No, of course not. The real rockets are for tactical assets only. We don’t generally evacuate people.”

The ship turned sharply, and even Jack nearly vomited.

“JAMES!” she cried. “Do you even know how to fly this thing?!”

He swiveled in his seat, revealing the fact that he was not actually controlling the ship but instead reading a battered and moldering paper copy of its manual. “Hell no!” he called back.

Flurry Heart stuck her head from around the pilot’s seat. “And the control’s aren’t exactly intuitive!”

Jack actually shivered. “You’re actually letting the- -child- -in the- -” She paused. “You know what? I lived a reasonable life. I guess it’s time to go.”

“Might I offer a suggestion?” said Armchair. He was currently existing as a small central processor being held by an extremely nauseous looking Chrysallis buckled into the seats on the other side of the isle from Jack. “If you could interface me with the central computer system- -”

“It doesn’t have a central computer,” said Maria. “Do you think I’d be letting a girl with no fingers fly it if I could interface? It’s a hardware-only system. Old-style legacy transistors. No software allowed.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” screamed Beri. “W- -WHY?!”

“To prevent geth infiltration,” sighed Maria, once again closing her eyes against yet another surge of turbulence.

“The geth do not infiltrate,” said Armchair.

“Like hell you don’t,” said Lyra, stepping forward. “We’re going through a debris field, right?”

“Debris field? We’re going through half the planet!” said James, pointing.

“Fine,” said Lyra, extending her arms and charging them. “Jack, you take the rear. I’ll take the front. I won’t be able to stop the large ones, but, well…” her arms ignited, and through the windows Jack could see a biotic field surrounding the front half of the ship. Undrestanding what Lyra was trying to do, she pulled off her belt and started to push past Darien to the unoccupied rear of the ship.

“You heard her,” said Maria, standing up as well. She reached down to Beri’s handcuffs and snapped the titanium chain. “Turian, you’re a Spectre, right?”

“Of course I am,” siaid Beri. “How does that have anything to do with- -”

“Well, you’re on cannon duty,” said Maria. “I’ll take starboard, you take port. I hope your aim’s good. Or else you had better learn to love dying.”

“Cannon? What are you- -”

“The cannon’s a mass driver.” Maria pushed past Darien, joining Jack and kneeling down to open a hatch to a lower level of the nearly derelict starship. “Point. Shoot. Make big ones into little ones. Don’t miss.”

“Right,” said Beri. “Which side is port, though?”

“I’m gonna die,” muttered Maria. “I should have taken that job with Cerberus. I should have just said ‘yes, sign me up, no I don’t ask questions, no I don’t need vacation time’. But no. Now I’m going to die here…”

Jack ignored Maria’s ramblings and slid to the empty rear section of the ship. As she did, she crossed a window. Through the rocks and long-dead trees and fragments of debris that were rapidly bolting past the ship, she saw the Earth- -or what was left of it. Most of it was now a swirling blue vortex, and as Jack watched it shifted, and something began to emerge from the Void: an enormous megastructure, a ring the size of the planet. The shell-encased ship above fired several beams toward the emerging ring, linking to it and helping to pull it through.

As she watched, the air in front of her suddenly distorted with a flash of blue light. With a small explosion amplified by the extremely thin metal walls of the ship, Starlight appeared.

“Star?” said Jack, her eyes wide.

“Yeah,” said Starlight, looking defeated and staring down at the floor. “It’s- -”

Jack punched her in the face as hard as she could. Starlight’s eyes widened in shock, and she was knocked off balance and sent sprawling across the floor. She winced and put her hoof to the injury. “What the hell was that for?!” she cried, angrily.

“Don’t you EVER do that to me AGAIN!” screamed Jack.

“You? You’re the one who hit- -”

“You tried to fight her, didn’t you?! All alone?! Do you have any idea how worried I was, how goddamn IMPOTENT I felt?! I’ve always been there for you, Star! When have I ever let you down? What the HELL did I do to deserve getting abandoned while you try to play hero and go it alone?!” Her voice lowered. “I thought I was going to lose you, and I couldn’t even…I couldn’t even TRY to help you.”

Starlight looked into Jack’s eyes, and saw that she was on the verge of tears. Starlight felt so ashamed that she was forced to look away.

“Jack!” shouted Lyra from the front as the ship rumbled and slowed. “The REAR!”

“Yeah, I’m on it!” said Jack, extending her arms.

Starlight charged her horn, and the entire ship shifted. The turbulence of debris dodging and impacts disappeared as the ship took a new location high in orbit, floating over the Crimson Horizon. Starlight looked out through the window at her now perfect view of the Gate, and of the encased ship below. She saw the dying Earth, and the Alliance fleet regrouping to retrieve the rockets sent up from Earth and to launch yet another futile attack on the Crimson Horizon.

“Star?” said Jack, immediately realizing something was wrong. “I didn’t mean to hit you. I’m sorry. I just- -”

“I failed, Jack,” said Starlight. She felt her voice cracking, but forced herself to keep looking at the Earth. “I failed…”

Across the star system, the now lonely and unguarded Charon relay suddenly activated. It’s gyroscope whirred to life, a ship suddenly burst through. It did not even pause to reset coordinates; it was already streaking across the sky toward Earth.

“Whoa,” said Pinkie, looking down at herself and then up at Scootaloo. “I feel funny.”

“Your molecular structure was briefly scanned,” said Xyuka, as if that were an ordinary occurrence. “Every aspect of your structure was disassembled for an infinitesimal amount of time. There actually was some difficulty alighting the necessary code, but my IFF was successful.”

“And if it hadn’t?” said Blossomforth.

“The batter gets the splatter,” said Pinkie, stating explicitly what everypony else already seemed to know. “SPLOIT!”

“Functionally, yes,” said Xyuka. “The ship would have been atomized.”

“And you risked that rather than just take a teleport?” said Scootaloo, calmly.

“Teleporting me would make the calculations…difficult. Due to the phenomenon of dimensional dord. Also, I would rather NOT have Twilight know that I’m here.”

“Yeah, I can see how that would get hairy,” said Scootaloo. She opened a now lavender-colored interface panel, surprised at how easily it opened and how quickly it worked with Dr. Heart’s body functioning as the Failure’s new Core. She immediately to take control of the helm, only to find that it was currently in use.

“Sassa?” said Scootaloo. “You’re actually awake?”

Sassaflash was siting bolt-upright, her eyes wide and staring. She turned her head slowly. “If you had seen what I’ve seen…you’d be awake too…Heart and the clingon…in the Core room…”

Scootaloo looked to Pinkie, and Pinkie shrugged. “Hey, I’m a mare of my word.”

“Captain,” said Wintrygust, crossing the now expanded bridge as several interface panels hovered near her. “I’m detecting ships approaching. We might want to take evasive action.”

“Don’t bother,” said Xyuka. “With the modifications I’ve made to your hull and shields, they could hardly scratch this ship let alone damage it. We need to go to Earth. Directly.”

“You heard…well…me,” said Scootaloo. “Sassa, take us in. Maximum speed.”

“Maximum?” Sassa gave a wry smile. “Okay, Captain.”

Before Scootaloo could stop her, Sassa slammed down the throttle. Several planets flashed by, and in nearly an instant the Failure was in orbit around Earth.

The entire crew fell silent as they looked out at the carnage before them. The planet had mostly been destroyed, with only its fringes still barely managing to hold together while an enormous ring-like structure was being pulled through its ruptured crust.

“Sweet Celestia’s rump,” swore Scootaloo. She swiveled in her chair sharply toward Xyuka. “Now do you see? Look what she’s doing!”

“I didn’t- -I didn’t mean for this to happen,” said Xyuka.

“And do you know what happens if she finishes that?” said Scootaloo. “I don’t know what it is, but if it goes off- -Equestria dies. Millions upon millions of ponies. She’ll kill them all.”

Xyuka looked through the window, her eyes wide. Then she shook her head. “No. No! This…” She grabbed Scootaloo by the shoulder. “I have to end this. I need to get on board that ship. NOW.”

“Scans are in,” said Wintrygust. “We’re getting four Core signals in the system. One is ours. There are two aboard the Crimson Horizon, and one in orbit several hundred kilometers over it.

“Four?” said Scootaloo. “Who in Luna’s name is the fourth?”

“The signature is classified…hold on…” Wintrygust paused, looking at her screen, confused. “It lists only s EQX.”

“Starlight,” said Scootaloo. “Of all the ponies to be here…”

“Is that bad?” asked Blossomforth.

“No,” said Scootaloo. “If anything, that’s excellent.” She pushed off her chair and started toward the door.

“Captain?” said Wintrygust. “Where are you going?”

“Onto the Crimson Horizon, apparently,” said Scootaloo.

“The Crim- -Captain, wait!” said Wintrygust, following Scootaloo and Xyuka out of the bridge. “You can’t!”

“No. I have to,” said Scootaloo. “Trixie is on that ship. They have her, Wintry. I have to get her back.”

“Scootaloo…”

Scootaloo reared up and kissed Wintrygust deeply. Xyuka watched awkwardly until they disengaged.

“You love her,” said Wintrygust.

“Yeah,” said Scootaloo. “I do.”

Wintrygust turned to Xyuka. “Elder Scootaloo,” she said. “I need you to promise me that you will get my Scootaloo back to me.”

“I promise nothing,” said Xyuka. “I will tolerate her joining me if she accepts the fact that she may not return, or will witness things that force her to experience things that she might rather not experience. But, I can say that I will do my very best to protect myself. Both of me.”

“Just take care of her.” Wintrygust shifted a panel in front of her. “I don’t know how long we can stay docked to it- -”

“Don’t bother,” said Xyuka. She turned her head to one side, and a channel of blue light ran through one side of her armor. Behind her, a portal snapped open, and a gust of acrid burning air poured in. “I can move us.”

Xyuka turned around and stepped into the portal. “If you still with to follow, Scootaloo, do hold your breath.”

Scootaloo followed, but looked over her shoulder. “I’ll be back, Wintrygust. I promise.”

“I know,” said Wintrygust, waving as Scootaloo stepped through the portal and it shut behind her.

Immediately, Scootaloo found herself in an alien landscape. The sky, as it was before, was a sickly brown-yellow, and it seemed on to stretch forever in all directions, only stopping on one side at a mountain range that sat what seemed like an impossible distance away. The air smelled just as it had the last time- -bitter, sour, and rotting, and hot like the inside of an oven. Instead of falling, though, Scootaloo found herself standing in an enormous field of brown, knotted grass that waved in a nonexistent wind. Separated in it with unusually even spacing were tree-like organisms that undulated slowly, turning their bodies toward Scootaloo and Xyuka as if watching.

“Where the buck are we?” asked Scootaloo.

“I told you not to breath,” said Xyuka. “The atmosphere here is mostly radon. You’ll get cancer.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“That is because the question does not really need to be answered.”

A second portal appeared, and Xyuka stepped through. Scootaloo hesitated, observing the world that Xyuka so nonchalantly passed through, but then chased after the more jaded version of herself before the second portal could seal. As she emerged into space, Scootaloo felt air that was relatively more cool.

Looking around, she quickly realized where she was. They had arrived on the Crimson Horizon. Ahead of them, an orange glow was emanating from the opening of a corridor ahead. Scootaloo took a step toward it, but saw that Xyuka was not advancing. As her eyes adjusted to the near complete darkness of the ship, she saw why. Standing before them and blocking their path was Trixie, waiting.

“I would advise against approaching her,” said Xyuka. “Her Core implants have been modified to greatly increase her biotic output and rate of use.”

“Modified? By…” Scootaloo looked at the growth covering Trixie’s back, and she found she already knew. “Is she indoctrinated, Xyuka?”

“Scans are inconclusive.”

Trixie watched the exchange, and then her eyes fell on Scootaloo.

“Captain,” she said, darkly. “I’m assuming you’ve come to take me back.”

“I have,” said Scootaloo.

Trixie was silent for a long moment. “It figures,” she said. “You didn’t even ask if I wanted to stay. You were just going to move me, like I’m just a piece of property.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Oh, come on, Scootaloo. I know you. I know that’s how you see me. I’m just a thing to you. A toy. At best, a pet.”

“Trixie, you’re sick. We can help you.”

“Help me? How? The same way you did last time? By having them shove me back in a tube and drain me until I can’t even sit up on my own? Or are you just going to ‘help’ by euthanizing the sick pony? Getting rid of the defective equipment?” Trixie glared. “I don’t need your help, Scootaloo.”

“I’m sorry,” blurted Scootaloo. “Trixie, I’m sorry.”

Trixie’s eyes widened, not in shock but in anger. “You’re SORRY?” She burst out in sardonic laughter. “She claims she’s ‘sorry’. ‘SORRY’. ‘Sorry’ she let them keep violating me to power their ship, perhaps? Or maybe she’s ‘sorry’ that she never once tried to do anything to free me, to help me get away.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or she’s just ‘sorry’ she would let me taste the life I could never, ever live before she sent me back to my slow and agonizing execution.”

“What choice did I have?” cried Scootaloo, stepping forward. Trixie took a step back. “Could I could have helped you? Maybe. Maybe I cold have- -but I was afraid. Afraid that they would hunt you down, or take you away from me- -”

“So you were afraid they would steal what was YOURS?”

“I was afraid they would take my friend! And hurt her! And I- -I didn’t know what else to do!”

“Friend?!” screamed Trixie. “Was I you’re ‘friend’ when you tried to rape me? Or when your subordinates drained me of every last drop of magic until I was dying in a puddle of my own blood and urine? NO. The only friend who came- -the only one who HELPED ME- -was Lady Sunset.”

“I’ve made mistakes, I know, but I’m trying! I care about you, Trixie! Why do you think I always tried to be there, why I gave my career to keep you near me! And don’t say it’s pity, because I’m not even nearly as strong as you. I’ve always admired you, and it makes me so sad- -”

“Sad? It makes you sad what you helped them do to me?”

Scootaloo sighed, and then took another step forward. This time Trixie did not retreat.

“I am tasked with defending my only true friend,” said Trixie. “If you take another step forward, I will kill you, Scootaloo.”

“Fine,” said Scootaloo. “Because I’m not leaving here without you. If you want to pass judgement on me? Go ahead. Just kill me. We both know I deserve it.”

“I mean it, Scootaloo! Just- -just leave! Go back to your life, and let me live mine!”

“I can’t do that,” said Scootaloo. “I don’t want to leave you. I WON’T leave you. Not like this. Not without you understanding how I feel about you.

Trixie took a sudden step forward and charged her horn. “I warned you,” she said.

Scootaloo sat down and spread her arms. “I wanted to be there when you died. I guess I can accept you being with me when I finally go.”

Trixie’s horn brightened, but her eyes started to flit around the room. She gritted her teeth, preparing to strike- -but then cried out in frustration as she allowed the energy in her horn to dissipate.

“I just…I can’t,” she said.

Scootaloo smiled- -but saw an armored streak flash by her. Xyuka charged at Trixie with impossible speed, and Trixie’s eyes narrowed. There was a flash of blue light, and Trixie ducked to her right. Xyuka stopped several paces from her, and Scootaloo stared wide eyed as Trixie produced the saddest smile that Scootaloo had ever seen.

Xyuka suddenly collapsed to her left knees. Blood gushed from her chest, pouring out onto the floor in a torrent. Trixie slowly turned to Scootaloo.

“So you were just trying to distract me,” she said, on the verge of tears. “Huh. And I actually believed you for a minute.”

“Trixie…”

Trixie started walking toward Xyuka. “And you. Thinking you could attack me like that. You’re not a Core like me. You don’t even have magic.”

Xyuka clutched her chest, and Trixie raised her head, preparing to bring down the final crushing blow. Instead of magic, though, only a small blue spark came out.

“Wh…what?”

A low sound began to emanate from Xyuka. At first Scootaloo thought it was some kind of horrible rattling caused by her mortal injury, but then as it rose, Scootaloo realized to her horror that it was a perverse version of her own laughter.

The pool of blood beneath Xyuka began to boil. It hissed and some as it concentrated into a viscous, mercury-like silver fluid that retracted toward Xyuka, pulling itself up her body and back into her veins.

“Magic, you say,” said Scootaloo. She raised her blood-stained cybernetic claw, revealing the object she now held. “Magic indeed.”

Trixie’s eyes widened when she saw the narrow blue spiral of bone, and suddenly became conscious of the trickle of blood running down her face from where her horn had formerly been attached. Then she screamed, both in the abject horror of seeing an essential part of her own body in a stranger’s hand and from the pain as the magic began to pour out of her body uncontrolled, hemorrhaging from the round wound on her forehead.

“NO!” she wailed. “My horn- -I can’t- -I’m not- -” Her voice choked off, and her eyes suddenly became bleary and unexpressive. “Lady…Sunset…”

Trixie collapsed onto the floor, and Scootaloo stared agape, horrified.

“T- -Trixie!” she squealed, rushing to her friend’s side and shaking her, desperately trying to wake her up.”

“She’s unconscious,” said Xyuka, crushing Trixie’s horn to dust in her claw. “She will recover. But I cauterized the growth plate. Her horn will never grow back. She will never use magic again.”

“You- -you- -HOW COULD YOU?!”

Xyuka just stared at Scootaloo, her face expressionless. “How could I? I just found the solution that didn’t have the courage to enact. I took her magic. She is no longer a Core. She is free.”

As if that were a tolerable explanation, Xyuka walked the remaining two meters into the orange glow beyond the darkened hallway. Scootaloo watched her go, and then checked Trixie’s neck with her hoof. Xyuka was right- -Trixie was still alive, but very weak. Gingerly, Scootaloo lifted the weak pony onto her back and followed Scootaloo.

“Soy-chet,” called Xyuka, her voice loudly echoing off the walls of the empty room. “I have returned.”

Scootaloo entered the room behind her, struggling to pull Trixie with her- -only to stare up in horror at the spherical abomination of eyes and teeth and malformed limbs that was floating in the center of the room.

“What in TARTARUS IS THAT?” she cried.

Xyuka ignored her. A jaundiced human woman with cloudy blue eyes stepped forward.

“Xyuka,” she said. “I see you- -” she paused, becoming conscious of the scene before her. She looked at Xyuka, and then at Scootaloo, clearly realizing the similarity. “So,” she said. “This is why you betrayed me…”

A substantial distance away from the Crimson Horizon, a male android sat in an immaculately clean control room surrounded by well-maintained but otherwise completely mismatched equipment. Since the 192 did not have a traditional viewscreen, he instead rapidly interpreted several monitors of code, interpreting the results and watching the events unfold outside.

Beside him, sharing one half of the same seat, an extremely weak and pale alicorn held him tightly and nuzzled his side, her own eyes scanning the code just as fast as his.

“It’s a mess out there, isn’t it?” said Four, treating it more as an observation than as a judgment on whether the events were positive or negative.

“Yeah,” said Marc Antony, gently rubbing the spot between the stumps where her wings had once been years before. “It is, isn’t it.”

The door to the room opened, and Bob stepped in. She immediately looked over the code herself, and began to open her mouth to address Marc Antony, but stopped when she saw Four.

“Four,” she said. “You should be in bed. Resting.”

“I tried that already,” said Four. “But I didn’t like being alone. I hate being alone. And I want to help.”

“She’s fine,” said Marc Antony. “I’m keeping an eye on her vitals, and I can administer any medication she needs. Like I have been since…since she needed my help.”

Bob smiled, and then leaned in close to Marc Antony’s face.

“Marc,” she said, sweetly. “I know you care so much for Four, and I really tolerate your relationship with her. And seeing as you secretly lust after my heavily syphilis infested loins constantly, I’m going to tell you this as nicely as possible. I don’t mind what you and Four do in private, but if you INSIST ON TOUCHING MY DAUGHTER’S WINGS IN FRONT OF ME I WILL SODOMIZE YOU TO DEATH WITH YOUR OWN SEVERED LEGS. Even though I love you. Got that?”

Marc Antony sighed, and removed his hand from Four’s back.

“Aww,” said Four, disappointed. “I like it when you touch me there.”

“I know, but I don’t want your mother to burst a blood vessel. Her blood reeks worse than the rest of her.”

“I smell excellent,” said Bob.

“Glad we have that settled,” said Bob, smiling. She turned her attention to Four. “I have something that will cheer you up, though.” Bob reached behind her and produced a human skull. Its white bone was marred with tooth marks, and part of the rear had been shattered for access to the delicious brain within. Despite being picked clean, though, the skull was still marked with blood and bits of Oriana’s tissue.

“Alas, poor Oriana, I knew her, Four!” said Bob. Then, laughing at her own joke, she held the skull out in front of her. “Hey, look at me,” she said in a bad impression of Oriana, moving the skull’s jaw. “I’m genetically perfect! But I have low self-esteem and get butthurt when Bob makes fun of me for being a slut even though I died a virgin! I sure was delicious, though!”

Four burst out laughing, but her laughter promptly collapsed into a coughing fit. Marc Antony glared at Bob, and lay Four on his lap, administering medication from an inhaler and a dose of medication injected into her neck. “Be careful, Bob!” he chastised. “She’s very fragile right now.”

“Yeah,” said Four. “I’d hate to laugh myself to death. That’s hilarious, though.”

“Well,” said Bob, putting the skull down and picking up a small metal box, “it might be too soon. At least you’re not like Seven. She was so angry about missing dinner that she tried to bite me. By I saved you your favorite bits.”

Four’s eyes widened. “You did?”

“Yup. Liver with those little salty crackers, and the fingies. I know how much you love the fingies.”

Four sat up, and then looked at Marc Antony. “I can’t right now,” she said. “The control room has to stay clean for the ship to run properly.”

“Oh, please,” said Marc Antony. “Go ahead. I trust you with eating in here. You have a respect for the equiptment.”

“Really?”

Marc Antony nodded. “You’ve been through a lot, and you need to eat to regain your strength. Besides, you saved my life, and I owe you a lot.”

Four looked up at him, wide-eyed and nearly crying with happiness at his recognition. She took the box from her mother and opened it. She removed a pale, blood-stained finger. She stuck it in her mouth and began gnawing the flesh off of it.

“I don’t know how Cerberus is going to react to this, though,” sighed Marc Antony. “Oriana was…expensive.”

“React? It was part of my mission parameters,” said Bob, shrugging. Lifting her shoulders revealed the fact that while she was wearing a Cerberus T-shirt, she was not wearing anything else. Marc Antony looked as though he was about to vomit. “If Lawson went rogue, I was supposed to end her. I think I actually get a bonus for doing it. They’ll probably just make a clone anyway.” Bob looked at the code on the monitors. “Hopefully this time they’ll build one right.”

“She’s really tasty, though,” said Four, crunching through a finger bone.

“Eh, she was hit or miss,” said Bob. “The legs were excellent, but she just wasn’t marbled evenly.”

“Just as long as you saved all her biotic implants,” said Marc Antony.

“Don’t worry, I’m not an idiot. Although Nine did swallow her amplifier, so we’re going to have to watch for that one for a few days.” Bob shrugged again, and this time Marc Antony avoided looking at her crotch.

“So,” said Bob after a moment. “You got the codes?”

“I did,” said Marc Antony. “And we were damn lucky our meat-puppet was a krogan. Anything else would have died before completing the transmission.”

“It’s not luck. It’s skill. No, I’m kidding. Totally luck. And the fact turians tend to go super homicidal when you fuck with their brains.”

“We weren’t the only ones accessing the database, though.”

Bob’s blue irises narrowed into vertical slits. “It wasn’t Janus, was it?”

“No. And those low-grades she keeps with her have probably wiped all our tracks by now. And, of course, Vakarian and Falare have been confirmed to survive- -but poor Councilor Kalejen succumbed to a tragic ‘accident’…”

“Good,” said Bob. “Because Janus would NOT be happy with what we’re about to do. Kalejen, probably, but she’s dead, so I don’t care.”

Marc Antony raised a blonde eyebrow. “You’re actually going to go through with this? You do realize that Cerberus will not be happy with it. At all. Not even remotely.”

“Unhappy? They’d probably execute me if they knew Or try to, I mean most Cerberus agents are nubs anyawy. But just think about how much fun it will be!”

“Fun indeed,” said Marc Antony. He stretched. “Alright, then. Four? If you’re up to it, you can do the honors.”

“I was born ready for this,” said Four. “Besides, I can do it faster than you with point seven percent less errors.”

“You wish! But- -try not to push yourself too hard, okay? I mean, I know I’m a synth, but I’d still feel absolutely terrible if I lost you.”

“Aww,” said Four. “I’d feel terrible if I lost you too, Marc.”

“If I had a gag reflex…” muttered Bob.

As Marc Antony shuddered at the thought of why Bob might not have a gag reflex- -which, most likely, was an adaptation for guzzling meat- -Four switched to her own chair. She paused to feel the sensation on her flank, and to run her hooves over the armrests. They had been cleaned very thoroughly to remove her blood, and they felt like new. She had never thought she would get to take that seat again.

Taking a breath, she focused her mind and generated a projection interface. It was somewhat draining in her state, but it was the only type of biotic discharge that she could actually do well and safely, and her skill and practice allowed her to compensate for her temporarily lessened health.

Across several million kilometers of space, the darkened hallways of the Crucible suddenly hummed to life. The computers activated, their dim glow illuminating the grotesque carnage that was all that remained of the humans and synths who had formerly crewed the facility. A few of the drones aboard looked toward the computers, curious as to why they had suddenly activated.

Then the code sequence ended. The computers powered down, and the drones looked at each other. There was the briefest of moments before the entire power supply of the crucible suddenly activated, burning through the incomplete connections that linked it to the Crimson Horizons as it fired.

Sunset Shimmer’s eyes widened. “NO!” she cried, grabbing for her head. “NO! What- -not now! NOT NOW! It’s too early, I’m not ready!” She closed her eyes and concentrated. The connections were not yet established, but she had to make it work. Summoning all her strength, she channeled the catalytic reaction of the Crucible into herself. It had to work- -and it had to work now.

Starlight watched as the portal suddenly ignited with energy from the Crimson Horizon. It expanded, fully materializing into the universe. The resulting shockwave vaporized what was left of the Earth, shattering it into fragments expelled at nearly light-speed. The Alliance fleet did not stand a chance; any ships that were sitting in the same plane as the disk-like portal were consumed by the debris cloud and torn to shreds.

The frothing vortex within the portal began to shift as well. Just as the shockwave was pushing through the remnants of the Earth, the inner material of the portal imploded- -and the Gate opened. Starlight stared in awe through it, seeing a different Sun through the planet-sized portal, and a distant green world slowly crossing into view. It was the first time in nearly thirty years that she had seen her homeworld, Equestria Prime- -and she knew that it would be its last.

“Holy. Fucking. Crap,” exclaimed Jack in awe, watching beside Starlight. Then she leaned forward. “What the hell is that?”

The mechanical lenses in Starlight’s eyes twisted, and she watched as an entire fleet of ships began to pour through the portal. Thousands of fighters poured into Alliance space, followed by a flotilla of heavy battlecruisers, all in formation. In the center of the formation, all alone and the only one of its kind, stood a large ship with a unique swept design and a familiar energy signature.

“The Harmony!” cried Starlight, smiling and pointing. “It’s the Harmony!”

Her joy was short lived, though. From across space, she could feel something else- -a sudden dark surge of magic and energy pouring out of the Crimson Horizon. Something was happening, and from the feel of it, Starlight realized that her hope had been far too premature.

Rainbow Dash stared through the front window of the Harmony’s bridge, her eyes closely watching as the magical overlay counted down the distance to their target and the coordinates of her ship.

“Celestia damn it,” she said to herself, looking up at the Crimson Horizon. “That is one UGLY fatherbucker.” She took a long swig from a bottle of gin and then smashed it on the floor, shattering it into millions of tiny pieces of glass. “LET’S DO THIS!”

She stepped forward on the bridge, watching her ships move into their positions. “Frigate unite six, twelve, eight, seven, forward into her shields. Break her open. Fighter groups associated with destroyers G and Q, draw her fire and get the destroyers into position for when we open her up. Slam her with everything we’ve got! If we lose here, she takes Equestria!”

The Fleet responded effortlessly to Rainbow Dash’s command, charging the ship. As they did, Rainbow Dash checked a readout of information, taking inventory of the ships at her command- -and fouond one extra.

“Scootaloo,” she said, smiling. She had no way to know, of course. There had been no reports or information relayed to her- -but she still knew. She knew her sister was in the battle with her.

Twilight suddenly appeared beside Rainbow Dash, representing herself as an abstract hologram as always.

“Sorry about the glass,” said Rainbow Dash. “I got excited- -”

“Rainbow Dash,” said Twilight, her voice dead-serious. “We have a problem.”

“What is it?”

“That ship. The energy signature coming off of it- -there is a one hundred percent probability that it contains a dimensional sheer cannon, and it is currently approaching full charge.”

“Well then,” said Rainbow Dash. “We’re going to have to bum-rush it before it goes off. Hot damn, I love a challenge.”

“No,” said Twilight. “Calculations indicate that the discharge will occur in less than thirty two seconds. We do not have adequate time to disable the device or to deactivate the transmission portal. The cannon’s predicted output is several million times greater than my own, with upper limit inestimable. If it fires at its current trajectory, the Equestria Prime System will be lost.”

“Then you want us to what, give up? I’m not having that,” said Rainbow Dash. She turned to the screen and glared at the hideous, debris-encapsulated enemy ship. “We will win. We have to.”

“No,” said Twilight. “I have created a solution.” She paused, and then looked Rainbow Dash in the eye- -and Rainbow Dash instantly understood what she was thinking.

“Wait, Twilight, no- -”

“I’m sorry, Rainbow Dash.”

There was a flash of violet light, and Rainbow Dash disappeared, teleported to safety. Twilight was left alone. She mimicked taking a deep breath, and then ordered the fleet out of the path of the beam. She spent her remaining twelve seconds reinforcing her shields to maximum and walking to the edge of the bridge, looking out the window. She had never realized until that point just how beautiful space was. Her only regret was never having been able to see it with her own eyes.

A small explosion caused Starlight to jump in surprise. She momentarily thought that another hole had formed in the ship, or that one of the coolant lines had burst. Instead of what little air they had left escaping or the room filling with toxic gas, though, a pile of pink-colored ponies suddenly dropped out of the air, thudding against the ground and looking confused.

“Um…what?” said Starlight, looking up at Jack.

“Get off me!” bellowed a muffled voice from beneath the pile. There was some pushing and shoving, and one of the pink ponies rolled off the pile to reveal a rainbow-maned mare.

“You!” cried Starlight. “What are you- -”

“Damn it, Twilight!” Rainbow Dash looked around, confused as to where she was- -and her eyes felon Starlight. “You have to stop her!”

“Stop what, I don’t- -”

“Twilight! That ship’s about to fire, and she’s going to try to block the beam with the Harmony!”

Starlight’s eyes widened, and she looked out again, taking several readings on the now geometrically growing energy output of the Crimson Horizon. She did the math- -and the math did not bode well.

“Oh no,” she said. “If she does that, she can’t possibly- -”

A feeling like a railroad spike had been shoved through her head suddenly overtook her, and both Starlight and Jack cried out in pain. Through the window, Starlight saw a beam of impossibly bright light slice through space, emerging through the Crimson Horizon’s protective shell and slamming into the Harmony. The beam momentarily stopped, dampened by the Harmony’s shields, but they promptly began to slowly shatter, exposing the ship beneath to the energy discharge.

There was nothing Starlight could do except watch- -save for one thing. The right thing.

“Jack,” she said. “I’m sorry. But you can’t come with me on this one.”

Starlight took a deep breath, and then teleported.

Normally, teleportation was instantaneous. There was no layover in an interdimensional plane; a mass simply ceased to exist in one location at the same time as it began existing in another. Starlight had formulated various mathematical theories as to how that was possibly, largely involving the subject of overcoming energy barriers of quantized motion. What she felt as she teleported into the Harmony, though, defied all of that math.

It felt as though it took time. Minutes, hours; it was not really possible to tell. During that time, Starlight was nowhere- -a mind trapped in the space between her mass materializing in one place and vanishing from another. The space that she normally crossed effortlessly had become tumultuous and fragmented; it was as though she were trying to tear her way through a storm of magic.

On an instinctual level, Starlight understood how dangerous this was- -and yet she dove in anyway. Space seemed to crumble and explode around her, and it took every ounce of her mental capacity to perform the complex calculations to keep her body from being torn apart as she moved. As she got deeper and deeper, the interference only got worse- -and the channel back only became more and more degraded.

Still, Starlight pushed herself to the limit, diving into the depths of reality and defying the material destruction around her. For a moment, she through it was too late. She had waited too long, and the damage was already too extensive. Flailing around in the storm, she began to panic, wondering if she was in the wrong place. There was no way to guide herself, and she was already so deep that she might not get back- -and she did not want to die for nothing.

Then, suddenly, her hooves closed around something warm and soft. She latched on, pulling the body of the other pony close to her, and merged her into the signal parameters, taking into account her mass and location. She began to pull them both back.

It was already too late, though. The channel had been destroyed by the sheer force of magic cutting through space. There was no direct path back. This did not deter Starlight, though. Knowing the full consequences of what she was doing, she funneled every ounce of energy she had into pushing her way back out- -and then pushed harder.

Hours seemed to pass, or perhaps just seconds. Starlight could feel her destination growing close, but it was still too far. The entropy had just become too much. The world was too slippery; there was no way for herself to pull herself out. With her strength failing, Starlight felt herself being pulled back into the turbulence of the Crimson Horizon’s weapons discharge.

Then she felt a pair of hands on her shoulder, and a familiar biotic presence.

“Starlight!” called Jack, apparently across an infinite divide, her half-teleported self inadvertently acting as a tether back to reality. “Don’t you dare leave me! Not like this!”

She tugged, and Starlight felt space start to resolve. She gave her last to help Jack, and with a herculean effort, emerged back into real space.

Starlight dropped onto the ground. Next to her, a narrow-framed violet alicorn stood on wobbly hooves. She blinked as the crystal implants in her spine shattered, unable to maintain their forms outside of the casing that normally contained her.

“Holy fatherbucking bucking buck,” said Rainbow Dash. “Tw…Twilight?”

Starlight smiled, impressed by her ability. What drifted to her mind instead of pride, though, was an odd thought.

“Hey,” she said, confusedly sniffing the air. “Who’s cooking hamburger?” She looked at the others, and saw their wide eyes, and then realized what it was. “Oh,” she said. “That’s me…” She looked up at Jack and became aware that her heart had not yet taken a beat since she had gotten back. “I think…I think I’ve died…”

Then she collapsed into a pool of her own blood.

Chapter 35: Defeat

Now on her knees, Sunset Shimmer gritted her teeth against the pain. The plasma interference from her discharge cleared, and much to her dismay, Celestia still stood. The Harmony had sacrificed itself to block the beam.

“To early,” she muttered. “To early, not powerful enough.” Then she laughed and stood, willing the pain away. She looked down at Xyuka, who for the first time since Sunset had known her appeared at least vaguely concerned. “No matter. I’ll just fire it again. And this time- -”

She suddenly stopped and doubled over, grabbing her torso. Something was horribly, horribly wrong. Her avatar was in profound pain, and she tried to find a reason- -until she realized that it was not the avatar that was in agony.

Sunset screamed as the inner walls of the Crimson Horizon burst open, tearing themselves apart from within. The organic, brown, bark-like surface was torn away, revealing the linear white-silver metal beneath, the geometric channels of its circuitry pulling massive energy back into Sunset Shimmer’s central Core. She tried to run diagnostics to understand, but none of it made sense. It was as if hundreds of millions of systems that she had no conception or recollection of had just simultaneously activated.

The energy backfed into her Core, and the central room suddenly filled with orange-violet energy. Her drones were vaporized by the explosion of force, and her avatars liquefied, their connections failing. Only the avatar connected to the Core directly survived, as did Xyuka and her associates.

That was when Sunset Shimmer saw the look on Xyuka’s face. The armored Pegasus was not concerned, or indifferent- -she was smiling. Not a fake smile; the most horrifyingly genuine one that Sunset had ever seen.

Sunset fell to her knees, doubling over in pain.

“Excellent,” said Xyuka. “I was momentarily concerned that the premature firing would not provide enough energy to initiate the reaction. It appears, however, that it was more than adequate.”

“Xyuka!” wheezed Sunset through her pain. “Please- -help me!”

“Help you? Do what, exactly? You are serving the very purpose you were constructed for.”

“What- -what are you talking about?” asked Scootaloo. “Xyuka, what did you do?”

Xyuka turned toward the younger version of herself. “I will have to admit, I have not been entirely honest with you, Scootaloo.”

“Xyuka!” cried Sunset Shimmer, raging against her pain. “You betrayed me! You- -after everything I did for you! After I found you in the Void, after I saved you, you repay me like this- -”

“No,” said Xyuka, her quiet retort silencing Sunset instantly. “I’m afraid that is the primary element of the lie. I was never trapped in the Void, Soy-Chet. I was not lost. I was waiting. I had indeed reached an entropy barrier- -but I still had access to several universes. I was simply collecting parts to get to the next grouping…and imagine my luck when a damaged Equestrian starship and most of a planet ended up in my possession.”

“You’re lying- -you have to be- -”

“I’m not. Sunset Shimmer, you were already dead. You did not heal me. I rebuilt YOU. I optimized your genetics, cybernetics, the ship, the drones- -I built it all. Then I implanted an ideology into your mind. One you would never question. One that would force you to end up here, and now.”

“No! I- -I remember! I chose to become a Core! I- -I made this! I- -”

“You don’t have any memories,” said Xyuka, as if talking to a child. “Not real ones, anyway. Yes, you did choose to become a Core. But have you ever actually tried to think? To remember what you were? Do you remember your childhood? Beyond the landscape, the town. Your best friends? Your first kiss? What your parents looked like? If you even had siblings?”

Sunset started to answer that of course she did- -but then her eyes widened as she realized to her horror that she could not recall any of the things Xyuka was mentioning. She remembered being a filly, but it was like a fact in her head, like how she had known that Starswirl’s machine was located on Earth. It was just a piece of cold, empty information.

“Now you understand,” said Xyuka. “Your mind? I built it. From creative whim, or even partly from my own memories. You are nothing but a construct, a machine. You always have been. And I have always been the one in control.”

“But- -but why? Xyuka, why? I don’t understand! I- -I can still feel it! To destroy Equestria- -”

“Equestria is meaningless,” said Xyuka, coldly. “Your only purpose was to assemble the Crimson Horizon, the Crucible, and the Gate in one place. To fire the weapon. If Twilight had not intervened, yes. You would have destroyed Equestria. But killed yourself in the process. Dying as you are now.”

“You sick bastard,” said Scootaloo. “You- -you destroyed an entire planet! Millions of lives- -and you would have taken out all of Equestria too? Just- -just like that?”

“Scootaloo, you couldn’t possibly understand. All the people I kill? In another reality, they’re all alive. All fine. Death has no meaning on a multiverse scale. Do you know how many times I’ve done this? How many times I’ve been forced to strangle a Sweetie Belle, to feel her body go limp under my grasp? Or to hear Applebloom’s screams of terror and betrayal as I’ve incinerated her land and family? Or watch the life drain out of a Rainbow Dash’s eyes by my own hoof? And yet there are infinitely more Sweetie Belles, Appleblooms, infinitely more Rainbow Dashs. So many more.”

“But- -but WHY?!”

“To get back. I have to get back. To my own friends. To my own world. I didn’t lie about that part, Scootaloo.” She turned to Sunset Shimmer, who was now lying on her side in a fetal position, her cables beginning to overheat and melt as her true body began to liquefy from the excessive energy it had absorbed. “Which was the point of this. To overcome my entropy limit. To propel me into a higher universe. To let me take one more step in my journey home.”

Sunset Shimmer looked up at Xyuka. She was weeping. “None- -none of it was real,” she said. “Please…there has to be another way. If I…if I could just do it again. I never even had a chance to have a friend!”

Xyuka stared down at the dying Core. “Life does not give second chances. There is no forgiveness. You chose this path yourself.”

“But…did I really have a choice?”

“No. Of course not. Because I designed you not to.”

Sunset Shimmer looked up, her eyes so wide and pitiful that Scootaloo was forced to look away. She opened her mouth, and all that came out was a squeak as she expired, her body liquefying on the floor. Above, her true self groaned in agony as it slowly imploded, creating an extradimensional vortex in its wake, a brilliant orb of white light hovering in the center of Xyuka’s machine.

Xyuka raied her hoof and projected another pair of Voqutan portals. “Go,” she instructed Scootaloo. “Take Trixie. Keep her safe. The translocation process is…abrasive. I don’t think you’d be a fan.”

Scootaloo paused, not even moving toward the portal. “What happened to you?” she said. She did not sound angry, just profoundly disappointed.

“What happened? I lived too long,” said Xyuka. “Far too long. Like I said: every new experience, it takes something away from you. I’m not a pony. Not anymore.”

“Bullshit,” said Scootaloo. “It’s just bullshit. You were me once. Do you even remember that?”

“I was never you…but yes. Sometimes…” Xyuka closed her eyes. “Sometimes I remember what might have been…”

“I’m going to make you a promise,” said Scootaloo, hefting Trixie’s still unconscious body and stepping toward the portal. “Even though you don’t deserve it. I’m never going to become like you, like the…the thing that you became.”

Xyuka turned, and looked her alternate self in the eye. “I will pray to every god I have not yet slain that you do not, Scootaloo.”

Scootaloo stared at her for a moment, and then stepped through the portal. It closed, and once again Xyuka was alone. She stared at the spot Scootaloo had been for a long moment, and found herself wishing it could have been different.

Then she turned back to the vortex. She raised a hoof to her face, and part of her armor liquefied, expanding and rebuilding itself, covering her face with a new mask. It sealed around her head just as the vortex began to peel her body apart.

“Don’t worry,” she said, addressing the portal and ignoring the pain. She smiled. “Don’t worry…I’m coming home. I’ll get back. We’ll be together again…someday.”

Then the assembly closed. Starswirl’s Gate, the Crucible, and the Crimson Horizon were pulled together. Xyuka- -Scootaloo- -stood in the center as her machine executed its function flawlessly. It imploded, vanishing from the universe and dragging her with it to the next one, leaving not a trace behind as she departed.

And then, like that, it was over.

Chapter 36: Victory

The world slowly began to come into focus. Groggy and disoriented, Starlight opened her eyes. She could not tell where she was, but the thought that her addled mind fixated on was not where, but why. Unable to answer the question, though, she fell back asleep.

It was not clear how long she was unconscious before she awoke to see a yellow-coated unicorn head staring at her, its mouth covered by some kind of respirator mask. Starlight was only confused as to why the appendages that surrounded her were so long and so dark, and to where this pony’s hooves were.

Then the world started to come back into focus as Starlight’s mind rebooted. She instinctively reached out to the tech implants in her brain to assist in the restart process, and to run a diagnostic of mental function- -only to get no response.

Realizing that something was horribly wrong, Starlight sat up sharply, suddenly finding herself quite awake. She was greeted by the sight of many individuals standing around her. Many of them were her friends, looking tired and haggard with worry, but a few were ponies that she did not recognize. Front and center, though, was a thin violet alicorn.

“She survived,” said a distorted voice from beside Starlight. The pony who she had seen before stepped out- -and it was immediately apparent to Starlight that she was not a pony at all. Rather, her body consisted of the head of a pony connected and bolted into the torso of a heavily modified Crimson Horizon drone.

“I can see that,” said Twilight.

“Where- -where am I?” said Starlight, looking around.

“Calm down,” said Zedok, putting her hand on Starlight’s shoulder and gently laying her back down on the steep incline of the table that Starlight found herself lying on. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Z…Zedok?” said Starlight, confused. “You’re not sick.”

Zedok smiled. “You mean compared to you? Yeah, I haven’t been sick in almost three weeks.”

“Three- -” Starlight sat up again. “How long was I out? How long?”

“Several weeks,” said Twilight.

“W- -weeks? What- -what happened to me?”

Twilight’s expression grew serious. “You died.”

“Several times, actually,” said Zedok. “Of course, since I’m such a great doctor, I managed to pull you back each time.”

“Correction, I managed to pull her back,” said the head-transplanted cyborg. “Oop. Pun.”

“You saved my life,” said Twilight. “And for this, I am eternally in your debt, Starlight Glimmer. But your heroism…came at a cost.”

“What kind of a cost?” said Starlight. She looked around the room at the silent faces. The memories of the event were coming back to her, and she reached up to her head, touching one of the ports in her forehead. Instead of feeling the familiar touch of metal, she felt extreme pain- -and a surgical scar.

“W- -what did you do to me?” she said, weakly. She reached over her head and toughed where metal should have been emerging from her cervical vertebrae- -only to find nothing but surgical bandages. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?”

“Your injuries were substantial,” said Twilight. “You exerted far more magic than any pony has ever exerted in those circumstances. You did something amazing…but you burned out your Core implants in the process. The only way to save your life was to…remove them.”

“You…you removed my implants?” said Starlight.

“It was not at all easy,” said the cyborg. “I’ve implanted thousands of sets, but never taken one out of a living host. Any other pony- -any pony without your natural talent- -and you would be dead. You are, frankly, a living miracle.”

“We did manage to save you one omnitool,” said Zedok. “And I think I leveled up about six times assisting Dr. Heart on your surgeries. Look, I have gray head-tentacles- -”

Zedok fell silent when she realized that Starlight was in no mood for jokes. Starlight leaned forward, looking straight at Twilight. “You took everything from me,” she said. “It’s…it’s over. You should have just let me die.”

“I couldn’t do that,” said Twilight, shaking her head. “I need you, Starlight.”

“For what? I’m not good for anything anymore! You ruined me! How am I supposed to fight Equestria now? How am I supposed to do anything- -how am I supposed to help the Cores? Without me, there’s…there’s no one. No equality.” She turned her head to the side, looking away. “I just…there’s no point anymore.”

“I understand it can be an adjustment,” said Twilight, gesturing to the fading scars on her back. “My implants dissipated when you freed me. But you will get used to it. Hope is not lost.”

“Not for me. But what about for them?”

“That’s why I need you, Starlight,” said Twilight. “I haven’t forgotten. What you said to me five years ago. I don’t think I could. And I told you we weren’t ready to give up Cores yet. Well…I think we are now.”

Starlight looked at Twilight with a great deal of suspicion. The alicorn looked sincere, but Starlight could not bring herself to believe her. “What are you talking about?”

“For too long we’ve been imprisoning our own people. You. Me. Sunset Shimmer. Trixie. Countless others.” She smiled. “But the negotiations, they worked. Councilors Falare and Vakarian have established an allied relationship between the Council and Equestria.”

“So?”

“So we can use mass cores,” laughed Twilight. “And element zero instead of ponies.”

Starlight’s eyes widened. “You’re…you’re kidding.”

“No! Within five years, Cores will be obsolete.”

Starlight looked at Zedok, and then across the room at Lyra.

“She’s not lying,” said Lyra. “I checked.”

“That…that…” Starlight put her hoof to her nose, trying to dissipate the pain of being unable to cry. “That’s amazing…”

“Which is why I need your help,” said Twilight. “There’s going to be a lot of Cores with a lot of unique problems. A lot of them are going to have trouble reintegrating into society, and a lot of Equestria is going to have a hard time accepting them.”

“So what do you want me for?”

“I want you to help them. To stand at my side in the Cult of Harmony and help them become equal.”

Starlight looked at Twilight, and then at her friends. Then, slowly, she neared forward, taking a step off othe table she was lying on.

“Careful!” said Zedok.

“I’m fine,” said Starlight. “A bit wobbly…a lot wobbly. But I’m fine. It’s just so…”

“Sudden?”

“Yeah.”

“You saved Equestria,” said Twilight. “And me. News is already spreading throughout the Kingdom. That a hero Core protected them when the Gate opened.”

“But I’m not finished yet,” said Starlight. “I barely did anything there…but I want to help.”

“You do?” Twilight seemed a bit surprised by Starlight’s sudden response.

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted. But you had better not be lying, Twilight. Because I will hold you to your promise.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Starlight Glimmer,” said Twilight, smiling widely without showing her teeth. “If we fight each other, nothing good will ever come. Just pain and strife. But working together in friendship, we can make Equestria a better place.”

Starlight smiled. “I just…I never thought it would end like this.”

“Oh, it has hardly ended,” said Twilight. She started walking toward the door, and Starlight followed. “It’s only just beginning.”

When Starlight passed through the threshold of the door into what she only imagined was an Equestrian ship, a voice called out to her. “Hey,” said Jack, pushing herself off the wall she was leaning on.

“Jack!” said Starlight, hugging her friend’s legs.

“Star, no need to get all mushy!”

“I’ll be up ahead,” said Twilight.

“Goddamn,” said Jack. “You actually pulled through that. Hell, cheating death like that you could give Shepard a run for his money.”

“I’m sorry I had to do that.”

“I know,” said Jack.

“But you were there,” said Starlight. “Just when I didn’t think I could get myself out, you were there. And you saved me.”

“I did what I could,” said Jack. Her silver eyes turned to Starlight’s bandaged back. “I just wish I could have done more…”

“I’m alive. And that’s what counts.” A thought occurred to Starlight. “Jack, when you saved me…did you…teleport?”

“I think so. Partially, kind of. Yeah.”

“Epic.”

Jack laughed. “Yeah. It pretty much is.” She looked at the room behind her, where several people were taking and milling about. “Star, I heard what you said in there.”

“Don’t worry, Jack,” said Starlight. “I’m not saying goodbye. I’m not leaving. Just…doing something different.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Jack looked around, and then took one knee so that they were at eye-level. She put her hand on Starlight’s shoulder. “Starlight, listen to me. You have a chance here. One I never had, one I never will have. One you almost didn’t get. You have a shot at living a normal life.”

“Jack…you can do that too.”

Jack shook her head. “It’s too late for me. I’m too old, and I’ve lost too much. But you haven’t. Star, if you do one thing for me, please- -PLEASE don’t waste this chance. Go out there. Make your life. Fall in love. Go to the Crystal Empire and grab that goddamn Sunburst stallion by his horn.”

“I will,” said Starlight. “Not the horn-grabbing, but I’ll live. As long as you promise that I’ll always be able to find you, that you won’t leave me.”

Jack smiled. “I’m not going anywhere until I die,” she said. “Beyond that, all bets are off.”

Starlight hugged her, and Jack hugged back.

“I’ll find the most potent alcohol Equestria has to offer, and I’ll have Twilight send you a whole crate of it,” said Starlight.

“You had better, for all the times I’ve pulled your pony ass out of the fire.”

Starlight laughed, and she released Jack. She waved as she went to join Twilight, who was waiting down the hall. Twilight looked over her shoulder back at Starlight, and then at a different pair approaching from the other side of the hall. Starlight immediately recognized one of them by her blue coat and the obvious implants on her back and head, and she realized that Trixie’s horn was missing. It did not seem to be slowing her down, though, because she was smiling down at a much younger orange Pegasus pony.

“This is Priestess Scootaloo,” said Twilight. “And you already know Trixie.”

“Hi,” said Starlight, awkwardly. “Trixie, I’m- -”

“I’m sorry,” blurted Trixie. “I said a lot of things to you. Really, really mean things. I don’t know what was going on in my brain, it just…I don’t even know.”

“I was just going to say that I’m so glad they got you out of there.” Starlight hugged her friend, and though surprised, Trixie eventually hugged back.

“Trixie is no longer able to use magic,” said Starlight. “But I want her on board with this too. To help us.”

Trixie and Scootaloo smiled at each other.

“And Scootaloo will be helping us as well. Of course, a lot of ponies will be helping us.”

“Wintry is chomping at the bit to give you a tour,” said Scootaloo. “She even set you up a room and everything until the Harmony II can be built.”

“Harmony II?” Starlight looked at Twilight with some concern.

“To inaugurate a new era. The first Equestrian ship with a mass-core drive system. It’s already nearing completion, actually. A lot of ponies are very enthusiastic about what I want to accomplish.”

Starlight smiled, and the group started walking. As Scootaloo and Trixie talked, though, Twilight suddenly looked somewhat concerned.

“Is something wrong?” asked Starlight.

“Oh no,” said Twilight. “I just remembered that I need to make a report to Princess Celestia about my progress. It’s kind of a thing I do as a junior Princess, and I’m kind of obsessive about being punctual.”

“Go ahead,” said Scootaloo. “I can take it from here.”

“Thanks,” said Twilight, stepping away from the group. She watched them walk off. When they were out of sight, Twilight crossed the now empty hallway to an unused communications room on the sides. She opened the door, entered, and closed it behind her- -being sure to engage the locks completely.

Once inside the darkened room, she opened an interface with her magic and began mentally imputing a complex set of encryption algorithms. A hologram pad on one end of the room charged to life, and violet particles swam through the yellowish light, projected by Twilight’s own magic.

Then a figure stepped into the projection. She towered over Twilight, even though by human standards she was actually somewhat short. Even through the relatively low resolution of the Equestrian hologram, it was possible to see the her long, wavy hair, her robotic arm- -and the vertical pupils of her eyes.

“What do you want, you filthy bitch?” said Twilight, darkly.

Bob smiled. “Come on, One,” she said. “Is that really any way to talk to your own mother?”

At the sound of her name, One smiled- -revealing several rows of pointed teeth. She allowed her forced Equestrian accent to slip back into her normal French one.

“And just how else would you propose I speak to you, Robette? Would you have me feign decorum?”

“I hate feigned decorum. No. I just expect more creative insults from you.”

“I see,” said One. “I believe my mimicry may be effecting my edge.”

Bob’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t let it.”

“Trust me, it will not. Not when it comes to the main mission.”

“And the status of the main mission?”

“Integration is excellent. They hardly even suspect that the real ‘Twilight Sparkle’ was atomized in the blast.”

“And you don’t feel bad about that? Not even a little? You are cloned form her, you know.”

“Of course I know. And I am a substantial improvement over the original.”

“I can’t argue that,” sighed Bob.

“But…”

“But what?”

“That teleportation sequence. It was actually very well executed. Had I not intercepted it, I am reasonably sure that Starlight Glimmer would have saved the life of Twilight Sparkle.”

“And what would be the fun in that?”

“No fun at all. Which is why I made sure that Twilight Sparkle was terminated.”

Bob sighed, and leaned back. “You know what? You are my most successful daughter. The most like me out of all of them. The spitting image mentally. But even the Blue-Lit Machines weren’t perfect. If they find you out?”

“Then I kill them.”

“All of them?”

“All of them.”

“Do you really think you can pull that off?”

One grinned menacingly. “I’ve already killed two alicorns. And I would have killed a third if your synth whipping boy had not intervened before my coup de grâce. How is my little sister doing these days, by the way?”

Bob’s eyes narrowed. “She’s alive. That’s all you need to know. And what you did? Because of that, if I ever see you again, I WILL kill you. You understand that, right?”

“I would like to see you try, mother. That day will come eventually. But not today.”

“No. Bigger and better things?”

One smiled. “I’m the Princess of one of the most powerful galactic empires in history. Just think of the things I can do to leverage this…”

Bob smiled. As much as she hated One, she appeared proud. “Hail Cerberus eternally,” she said.

One- -as perhaps the only other being in the universe who could understand the pure irony of that statement- -chuckled, and replied knowingly.

“Hail Cerberus...eternally.”

Chapter 1: From the Void

Outside the window, the dark sky was alight with stars. Many of them were distant, and a great many of those impossibly so. Even the nearest sun was small, pale-green spot in the distance, a single pinprick only slightly larger and slightly brighter than the countless millions that surrounded it.

This seemingly endless span of material was almost as hostile as it was beautiful. Out there, there was no air, an at this distance from the system’s sun not even heat- -and only a thick window separated the heated interior of Listening Station 113 from the endless outside.

Close to this window, sitting in a folding, portable chair, a turian contemplated the world outside. There was not much else to do but to look out at space and the arrays of connected modules and parabolic receivers that made up the station. This was not, by far, a glamorous job, but it was a peaceful one.

“Lieutenant,” said a voice from behind him. The turian turned to see his subordinate approaching with a pair of cups in her hands.

“There we go,” said the lieutenant, sitting up from his chair. The other turian held out one of the cups, and the lieutenant took it. He inhaled the smell of it deeply, causing his subordinate to wince.

“I don’t know how you drink that stuff,” she said, pulling up a chair next to him.

“The tea of the greater lowland fern is admittedly an acquired taste,” said the lieutenant, sitting back down. “But it’s good for the skin. It keeps me looking so silvery and pretty.” He contemplated the pale but pungent liquid for a moment. “You didn’t forget the turian milk, did you?”

“You know how they make that stuff, right?”

“Of course. From turians.”

The subordinate snorted, nearly choking on her own beverage which was no doubt some synthetic sugary human-made dextro beverage. “No, of course not.”

“I know where milk comes from. I’m not an idiot, Aela.” He took a sip of the liquid, and decided that she had in fact added the correct amount of turian milk.

“So,” she said, leaning back, looking at the small landscape of artificially lit steel and titanium and the great infinite space beyond it. “Anything going on yet?”

“Does it ever? Of course not.” He took another sip. “Which is exactly what I like. Just listening to the hum of the recirculation system and sending premade reports every two days. This is the life.”

“It does not surprise me that you never got past lieutenant, then.”

“Why would I need to go higher? You, though. If you keep up with the tea, I see a future in the intelligence corps for you.”

“That’s why I came out- -”

An alarm suddenly went off. The lieutenant reacted with incredible speed, leaping out of his chair and racing to one of the panels on the edge of the room.

“What is it?” said Aela. For the first time in a long time, she suddenly felt nervous. She had never seen the lieutenant move quickly, and never seen such a serious look on his face.

“The mass relay has been activated.”

Aela’s eyes widened. “We’re not scheduled for a resupply until next months.”

“They’re not turian.”

Aela felt cold. “But this system is so far out it doesn’t even have a name! Who would be coming out this far?”

The lieutenant activated a holographic screen, displaying precise renderings of the long-range observation of System 113B7’s mass relay. As the two watched, several ships emerged from the hyperspace corridor, exiting the relay into the system.

In the academy, Aela had specialized in practical intelligence. She had trained with the intention of crewing more significant bases- -like those surrounding hostile Alliance space- -and as such, she had drilled herself endlessly on the different types of spacecraft that she might encounter. It was even a hobby for her.

These, though, were unlike anything she had ever seen. It was difficult to tell if they were even spacecraft at all. According to the tiny numbers that surrounded their images, they were approximately ten meters across at their widest point. They had no architecture that resembled anything close to a standard spacecraft, though; instead, they resembled masses of radial, crystalline spines protruding from uneven and asymmetrical cores.

At first, Aela wanted to dismiss them as some kind of bizarre rock formation- -until she saw them move. Several of them moved far faster than normal spacecraft, maneuvering at angles and speeds that should have been impossible. And they quickly established an unorthodox formation.

Aela took the auxiliary controls beside the lieutenant.

“I’m getting energy readings,” she said. “But there’s no sign of a mass-effect field.”

“Nothing moves that fast without a mass-effect field,” said the lieutenant, his voice deadly serious. “They must be masking it somehow.”

“I recommend immediate defensive protocols,” suggested Aela. “We have to take them down.”

“No,” said the lieutenant flatly. “Our orders were to watch for Reapers coming out of darkspace. Do those look like Reapers to you?”

“No. But they- -”

“Then we have no need to attack. They don’t seem to be threatening, so for now, we just watch them.”

Which is exactly what they did. Holding their breath as the crew of the listening post scrambled about on high alert, Aela and the lieutenant watched as more crystalline vessels appeared. They moved quickly, assembling various formations and moving throughout the star system, occasionally stopping near various planets. A few times, they even approached the listening post, and Aela felt her fingers approaching the controls of the defensive system. The unidentified objects did not seem to see it, though, or perhaps did not care. At only one point did their energy shift, as though they were scanning the post for a brief moment before moving on.

Then, as quickly as they came, their course set back toward the relay. As Aela watched them go, a kaxon suddenly went off. Aela turned around, not understanding what was happening, or why so many of the station’s proximity alarms were going off all at once.

“What now?” cried the lieutenant over the noise.

“We’re detecting a spatial disturbance five hundred kilometers off the starboard bow,” said Aela, quickly analyzing the anomaly. She grimaced, gritting her mandibles as she tried to reduce the bizarre readings she was receiving into something that made logical sense. It was almost impossible, though. She was trained to recognize the sometimes obscure and distorted readings from ships at ranges of several hundred lightyears- -she was not a physicist specializing in anomalies. “It’s interfering with all our equipment- -I can’t- -I can’t get a reading!”

“By the titans…” whispered the lieutenant. Aela looked up at him, and was about to yell at him despite his higher rank for just standing and staring out the window in a time of crisis. Then she turned toward the window- -and realized that there was no point in continuing.

The anomaly was visible. Not only visible, but enormous, a swirling vortex of ionization and condensing dark matter, like a hurricane tearing and penetrating space itself. Then, slowly, it resolved itself- -and something began to emerge.

Aela watched as the object pulled its way into space, and could barely manage to take her eyes away to look at her readings. “Reading…reading a ship,” she said in disbelief. “Diameter is…two hundred kilometers…”

“I’m sorry,” said the lieutenant. “I’m so sorry.”

Aela did not understand until she looked out the window one last time- -and saw that the hulking mass of material was headed straight toward them on a collision course. It did not slow, and it did not stop.

The last thing she knew was a sudden shift in the floor as the ship struck the listening post, and then a burst of noise and motion as it collapsed around her and her ears burst as the atmosphere depressurized. Within less than a second, the listening post was destroyed along with thirty six turian crewmembers.

In the darkness, a pony walked through the halls, her armored hooves clicking against the uneven and heterogeneous material of the floor. There was almost no light, save for the bioluminescence of the organic subsystems and the glow of several intense crystalline lights. The dimness did not matter to this pony, though; she had lived in darkness for so long that it had become meaningless in connotation. Even in a practical sense, it impacted her little; the mask she wore amplified what light there was more than enough.

Beside her, yet another of the endless horde of drones hulked by, a dead-eyed mass of clockwork and surgically reconnected flesh. It paused to look down at her, barely acknowledging her presence, and then clicked back on its way to deeper within is hive, its scythe-like legs clicking and scraping.

It was a disgusting abomination, but the pony ignored it and proceeded deeper into the ship until she reached a large room. Here, many drones were at work, their minds integrated by long cables into the subsystems of the curving walls and ceiling while others worked on repairing any damage that occurred from the rematerilization.

The front of the room consisted of an enormous window, and the pony paused to look out at the endless night’s sky of space. It was the first time she had seen stars for so long. Although she had dreamed of this moment for what felt like an eternity, it felt oddly hollow.

A large chair was connected to the deck near the window, and no drones approached it. The pony did, however, and addressed the woman who sat upon it.

“We have successfully reconstituted into realspace,” said the pony, her voice by default harsh and made even more so by the air filtration system in her mask. “We have currently stabilized. We’re back.”

The woman in the chair did not initially respond. She leaned back, her pale blue eyes staring out at the space through the crystal of the bridge window. For a moment, the pony thought that she might be asleep, or even dead- -except that Sunset Shimmer never slept, and at this point had come too far to ever be able to die.

“Xyuka,” she said to the pony beside her, not looking down. “I felt something impact against my hull.”

“We impacted some debris upon exit.”

“There were beings there.”

“There were. Not anymore, though.”

“But those crystals remain.”

Xyuka looked up, and the microoptics in her helmet narrowed. In the distance, she saw several crystal scoutcraft fleeing the sudden emergence after having briefly stopped to scan it.

“The fleet should be materializing momentarily,” explained Xyuka. “Once they arrive- -”

“Don’t bother.” Sunset’s eyes flashed toward the crystals. A barrage of yellow-colored magical beams shot out from one of the numerous frontal batteries. They transversed the light-second distance almost instantly, striking the crystals directly. On impact with the beams, the ships were completely vaporized- -save for one that managed to swerve suddenly at the last moment and only lose several of its stabilization spines.

“Interesting,” said Xyuka. “It appears more maneuverable than the others.”

“Interesting indeed,” said Sunset, more to herself than to her pony associate.

“It appears to be heading for that station,” said Xyuka. Her internal sensory subsystems opened as she examined the object, pulling apart the data of the scan down to a fundamental schematic. “It appears to be a small mass effect relay.”

Sunset slowly stood, and the drones all suddenly turned their dead eyes toward her. Xyuka did not share their fear, but stepped out of the way. With characteristic poise and patience, Sunset walked across the platform of the bridge, her expensive robes trailing behind her along with the heavy flexible tubes and conduits that were permanently linked to the extensive implants in her spine and skull.

When she reached the window, the last crystal ship had reached the relay and was in the process of aligning itself between the firing poles. Sunsent slowly raised her hand and placed it on the glass. At her will, the relay detonated in a plume of crimson-tinted orange magic. She watched for a moment as the relay’s rotor broke free and tore itself apart, and then lowered her hand, leaving a bloody handprint behind.

“It may have fired successfully,” suggested Xyuka. “I can backcalculate its location, if you want.”

“Don’t bother. One crystal vessel is inconsequential.” She turned toward Xyuka. “I’ve found our target, and I am setting course.”

“You should probably wait for the fleet.”

“I don’t need the fleet,” she said, slowly drifting back to her chair and returning to a seated position. She once again began to stare out the window. “You can work on bringing back your fleet, but I will not stop. Nor will I hesitate. Not after so long. I need that key, Xyuka.”

Xyuka just nodded, and then slowly began walking back to the shadows to continue her work. Sunset Shimmer looked out the window, staring into space. She knew that to Xyuka, she must have looked old and appeared dissociated from reality- -but that was only because even Xyuka did not fully understand the nature of a Core, or that Sunset's eyes had been blind for decades. Through her sensors, however, she saw everything- -and was focused on one very specific star in the farthest distance of space.

Then she closed her eyes, and the ship shuddered. Slowly, the Crimson Horizon turned toward its new target.

Chapter 2: The Ambassador

Garrus adjusted the mirror. For a moment, he paused, staring at his reflection. He did not remember when he had gotten so old. It seemed like just yesterday he had been a young C-Sec agent patrolling the streets and corridors of the Citadel. In truth, that had been almost a quarter of a century ago. Even the substantial scars on the right side of his face were starting to fade.

Had he been asked where he thought he would be at this point in his life back when he was young, he would hardly even have been able to answer. At some points he could even remember thinking that it did not matter, that with the looming threat of the Reapers, he would never even get this old. Now he looked down at what he had become and adjusted his Councilor’s robes, wondering if he had made the right choices.

After considering his reflection for the better part of a minute, Garrus picked up a small and excessively florid container of white paint.

“Damn it,” he said, opening it. “I hate the face paint.”

“Well, you have to wear it. This is important.” From behind him, Falere appeared beside Garrus’s reflection. Her face paint had already been applied with complete disregard for the narrow lines of Reaper implants that ran across parts of her face- -and because of that, seemed to inadvertently accentuate them.

“I don’t think it’s really necessary,” said Garrus, turning around and facing the asari Councilor. “I mean, would I really want to cover up this amazing face?”

Falere lifted one of her hands to her mouth to disguise the fact that she was giggling like a much younger girl. “Here,” she said, pulling off one of her gloves. Garrus looked down at her hand as she picked up the canister of paint, and saw that her fingers were coated with the framework of even more implants. They ran throughout her body, hidden beneith her bulky robes. She dipped her fingers into the material and reached up to put it onto Garrus’s face.

“Honestly,” she said. “Your lack of decorum is astounding. I have no idea how you won two terms.”

“I didn’t even run the second time.”

“Stop bragging. With my reelection fund, I could have retired quite lavishly.”

“I’m not bragging. I was hoping to retire. Not all of us can look as good as you do in our old age.”

“Oh, please. I’m barely three hundred. I’m by no means ‘old’.”

“Well, if you end up looking as good as your mother does…”

“You will have passed ten generations by the time I am even close to Samara’s age.”

“Ten? You don’t know the Vakarians. We’ll manage at least fifteen.”

Garrus reached up and gently closed his fingers around Falere’s wrist. Falere looked at him with understanding- -and sadness.

“Garrus,” she said, pulling her hand away. “Don’t. You know we can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one, it would possibly be the greatest scandal in Council history. Second, you would die.”

“I’m tougher than I look.”

“Doubtful. What with the scars and all.”

“We can at least try.”

Falere shook her head and stepped back. “No. You just want what you can’t have. Believe me, I am no stranger to frustration.” She smiled mischievously. “Of course, as a substitute, perhaps you could attempt to seduce Council Kalejen?”

Garrus blinked, and then uncontrollably imagined the salarian Councilor naked. He nearly smudged his facepaint as he reached for his mouth as he attempted desperately to prevent himself from vomiting.

“Don’t even joke about that!” he cried as Falere giggled.

There was a sudden tone as the door to the room slid open. A narrow-bodied female turian stepped in, her eyes focused on a datapad.

“Valena!” cried Garrus. “Don’t you ever knock!”

“Why would I need to knock?” asked Garrus’s secretary, barely looking up at him over whatever it was she was reading. “What could you two possibly be doing in here that would warrant knocking?”

“Well, you know- -”

“Yes, I do know. And I would strongly advise against that. Because I’m really not in the mood to be cleaning up bodies right now.”

“Is the disposal of corpses part of your normal duties?” asked Falere, hastily reaching for her headdress.

“You have no idea, Councilor.”

“She’s joking,” explained Garrus.

“I should hope so.”

“Councilors,” said Valena, looking up from her notes. “Might I remind you that the ambassador from Equestria is due to arrive in less than thirty minutes? I’m sure I don’t need to remind you how critical this meeting is. We don’t want a repeat of what happened five years ago.”

“Right,” said Garrus, shifting his attitude to one of greater gravitas. “I know, Valena. I know.”

The events of what had come to be called the Agrostation Six Incursion were still hazy, even after five years. What was known- -at least generally- -was that a fleet of alien spacecraft from the Equestrian Empire had positioned themselves within sighting distance of the Citadel in orbit around an abandoned agricultural research planet in the Serpent Nebula. The Council Fleet had been taken by surprise, but engaged them. After a tense standoff, the Equestrian fleet eventually retreated, teleporting back to their home galaxy. War had been averted- -but only barely.

More recently, though, new information had come to light. Scans of the Equestrian craft had been analyzed in secret, and the salarian scientists had all come to the same conclusion. Although Equestrian technology was impenetrably different from anything known in Council space, the researchers had been able to determine that the Equestrian flagship had been in possession of a devastating weapon of untold destructive capacity. There was some debate among the scientists, but many agreed: if that weapon had been turned onto the Citadel, it would have been destroyed in a single blow.

This new information, of course, was kept secret from the general population. Keeping the existence of the Equestrian Empire a secret, though, was impossible. They were an entirely new kind of threat. The Reapers had been mysterious and lethal, but the ponies were something different. They were an empire of galactic proportion with technology anticipated to be far beyond any that had been previously encountered- -but unlike the Reapers, they could be reasoned with.

It had been difficult at first, but though years of quiet negotiations, Garrus and Falere had been able to open diplomatic channels that in time widened and grown until the Equestrian Empire had finally decided to open talks concerning the possibility of codifying the Empire’s relationship with the Council. As such, they were sending an ambassador.

Now Garrus found himself strangely nervous as he descended the Citadel in yet another elevator. He had been through much worse than this, and he knew that. He had faced mercenaries, criminals, faceless Cerberus soldiers, and even Reapers- -but those were easy. He just had to shoot straight and follow Commander Shepard’s lead. This was different, and somehow more terrifying.

“Don’t be nervous,” said Falere, looking out from beneath her hood.

“Nervous? I’m not nervous. Not at all. Why would anyone be nervous that even a tiny perceived insult could lead to a breakdown in negotiations and hostility toward a technologically overpowered, warlike civilization? Nervous! HA!”

Falere put a gloved hand on Garrus’s shoulder. “Just don’t think about it. You’re Garrus Vakarian. Besides, when you fail, I’ll be right here to help you.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“You're welcome.” Falere released Garrus and looked out one of the windows of the elevator as they crossed upward toward one of the higher docking bays. “So,” she said. “The ambassador. What do we know about him?”

“Her. Equestria has a matriarchal society. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“They have comparatively few males, so their hierarchy runs like the salarians in reverse. I mean, from what I gather.”

“Ah. So you are just inferring, then. They didn’t tell you anything.”

“Of course not. I have no idea what to expect.” Garrus sighed. “I was not made for this. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“So, no different from usual, then.”

The elevator came to a stop, and the door opened. Falere stepped out, and Garrus followed. The corridor they entered was far cleaner than much of the Citadel, and a pair of fully armored turian guards were standing on either side of the elevator. They fell into step behind Garrus and Falere. Their purpose was largely ceremonial, but Garrus could not help but find himself hoping that they did not become a necessity.

As they rounded a corner to approach the landing bay, Garrus felt his mandibles tighten. There was a commotion occurring outside. The problems had already begun.

A small group had gathered outside, and even from a distance, Garrus could tell that one of them was wearing Councilor’s robes. The salarian Councilor appeared to be berating what Garrus first took to be a hanar cosplaying as Blasto- -until he realized that the armor and weapons that the hanar was wearing were a little too realistic to be a costume.

“What is this?” asked Garrus, feeling the strain in his voice for having to deal with something like this so early in the process.

“Councilor Vakarian,” said Kalejen, her salarian voice accelerated by her frustration to a cadence that made her words almost completely indecipherable. “This day just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?”

“Respected Councilor Vakarian,” said the hanar, tilting in the air toward Garrus. His tentacles were fully armored, but Garrus noticed that he was missing at least one of them. “This one greets you with deepest respect. Respect is also given to the asari Councilor Falere.”

“Don’t try to pretend that you’re some polite citizen, mercenary,” snapped Kalejen. Her salarian guards gripped their weapons more tightly, and Garrus saw the hands of his own guards moving toward their pistols. “This THING is attempting to enter the secured area, and it won’t LEAVE.”

“This one politely recommends that the salarian Councilor take her perturbation and shove it smartly into her cloaca. She should not have great difficulty with such a task as the orifice in question has been stretched by excessive use.”

It took every ounce of Garrus’s willpower not to burst out laughing. Falere pretended to cough. Kalejen just looked flabbergasted and sputtered for several seconds.

“How- -how DARE YOU! I am a COUNCILOR! I will have you- -”

“This one assumed that free speech was a fundamental right asserted by the Council. Or is the ‘honorable’ Councilor Kalejen attempting to pass yet another censorship bill?”

“Stop,” said Garrus. He turned toward the hanar. “What’s your name?”

“This one is called Si’y.”

“That isn’t even a proper Hanar name!” shrieked Kalejen, still reeling from the cloaca joke.

“Second question,” said Garrus. He pointed at the largest of the numerous weapons attatched to the hanar’s armor. “Is that an M-920 Cain?”

“Yes. Yes it is.”

“And why do you have that?”

“In case this one needs it.”

Kalejen looked to Garrus, expecting him to chastise the bizarrely outfitted hanar for having a weapon that could fire a ballistic projectile with the force of a small nuclear warhead. Instead, Garrus just shrugged. “Fair enough. A particle beam would be better indoors, though.”

“Agreed, save for the poor efficiency of ammunition processing.”

“Councilor- -”

Garrus ignored Kalejen. “So, why are you here, Si’y?”

“I have been hired to serve as personal guard to the Equestrian ambassador.”

The three Councilors blinked. “Um…what?”

The hanar repeated himself patiently- -or perhaps just sounding patient because of the limitations of his optical-to-speech conversion system. “This one’s organization was contacted by the ambassador in advance, and this one was selected to serve as a bodyguard. This one has receipts.” He lifted a tentacle and opened an omnitool. Garrus’s own omnitool vibrated to indicate that it had received a message.

“That’s absurd!” cried Kalejen. “You can’t expect us to believe that an ambassador actually contacted some filthy mercenary, or that she was foolish enough to select a HANAR for the purpose!” She looked up at Garrus. “This is clearly part of some coordinated attack! He plans to attack the ambassador!”

“By walking in the front door?” asked Falere. “And no simply by killing the three Councilors right now?”

Garrus opened his omnitool and briefly reviewed the information the hanar had given him. It was not terribly clear or obvious, which meant that it came down to a judgement call. He paused for a moment, and then looked up at the guards beside the door. “Let him in.”

“Councilor! You- -you can’t be serious!”

“I’m not going to risk not delivering the ambassador one of her employees.”

“And if he attempts to kill her?”

“Then I will end him,” said Falere, simply.

“You? Just because you have asari biotic powers- -”

“Kalejen,” said Garrus. “Do you even know what an Ardat Yakshi is?”

“Of course I am aware of the Councilor’s unfortunate medical situation.”

“Then you know that she could compress this hanar and every weapon on his body into a singularity with a single thought. I’ve seen her do it.” That last part was a lie; Falere was a remarkably calm person. The effect on Kalejen, however, was exactly what he expected.

“I can’t allow you to do this!”

“Should we put it to a vote?” Garrus raised his hand. Falere smiled at him, and then raised hers. “Ooh. Outvoted. Sorry. Shortest Council session ever.”

Kalejen continued to sputter and fume as Garrus pushed past her. The guards opened the door, and he personally let the hanar float in. Falere followed, keeping her eyes mostly on the hanar.

The building itself was far at the end of the Citadel, close to its primary opening and directly opposing the Presidum Ring. As such, it had an excellent view both of the other nearby Citadel buildings- -mostly docks and transport stations, but with a few offices and several high-rent residential structures in the distance- -but also of the space beyond the end of the Citadel. Being built inside a nebula, the white mists and forming stars of the space beyond were unique and beautiful. Garrus had specifically chosen this area for the view- -on both sides. That, and because instead of flying through the Citadel to reach one of the inner docks, the ambassador could be taken on a tour immediatly as they returned to the higher regions where she would be staying.

It was only a few minutes before Garrus’s omnitool alerted him to an incoming communication. He opened it, and saw that the ambassador had just transmitted word that she was preparing to arrive. Outside, Garrus directed his attention to an area of space that had been cordoned off from freighters and smaller personal craft. This had been set up in advance due to the fact that Equestrian craft did not use mass relays. They used a different and unfamiliar method of producing long-distance travel.

Then, outside, there was a sudden burst of yellow-white light. Space distorted slightly, and a craft suddenly appeared.

“So they actually do that,” said Kalejen, immediately forgetting the incident before. “They really do teleport.”

Garrus ignored her, and looked to the guards. They nodded, and he signaled through his omnitool that they were prepared for arrival. The message was no doubt relayed to the pony spacecraft, because it immediately began moving toward their position.

As it grew closer, its shape became more obvious. Its appearance was actually somewhat striking. It was almost entirely flat, with a thin and rounded fuselage connected to a pair of swept-back wings. It looked almost like an atmospheric aircraft rather than a space vessel. Most unusual about it, though, was its complete lack of surface features. The entire ship was constructed seamlessly from rounded, white material with two chrome streaks on the top and bottom.

The craft gracefully navigated around the freighters, twisting through space as it drew closer and closer to its destination. Then, once it was in position, it turned itself sideways into a vertical position, which for all Garrus knew was the way it was intended to travel. It slowly moved itself into position next to the docking tower and slowed. As it did, Garrus noticed that Falere reached up for her forehead, shaking her head.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. Their ship…it just feels…I don’t even know how to describe it.”

“Don’t freeze up now, asari,” hissed Kalejen, as if the pony ambassador could hear her complaining.

Garrus watched as a docking tube extended, connecting to a port near the rear of the Equestrian ship. For a moment he wondered if the universal seal would even work on such an alien ship, but it seemed to connect, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Should we quarantine them or something?” asked Kalejen, leaning toward Garrus. “What if they have diseases?”

“We used to let humans on the Citadel,” said Falere. “I don’t think they could possibly carry more infection than them.”

As she said it, Garrus heard the outer door to the security airlock close. There was a hiss as the air shifted, and then a second click as the inner door opened.

“Here we go,” he said to himself, adjusting his annoyingly high-threadcount robes compulsively.

The door opened with a hiss, and three ponies stepped down the ramp into the room. The one in the center, Garrus reasoned, was the ambassador: an all-white unicorn pony with long, styled blue hair and an almost excessively ornate dress glittering with expensive fabric and gemstones. At her left was a lankier white unicorn mare wearing a similarly beautiful but otherwise completely different dress. On her right was a tall winged pony- -something Garrus had not actually seen before- -who was also completely white but with glaring red eyes. She was dressed in something that appeared to have been made to match the dresses of the other two, but that was far more practical to wear.

The winged mare stepped forward and appeared to inspect the delegation. “Announcing Ambassador Rarity, and her sister Sweetie Belle,” she said.

Rarity smiled, apparently enjoying the attention, and stepped off the ramp. She herself looked around the room, and Garrus saw that her expression changed just slightly as she inspected the room full of aliens.

“Ambassador,” said Kalejen, stepping ahead of the others. “Let me be the first to welcome you to Council Space, and to our Citadel.”

Rarity looked up at the salarian- -even with Kalejen being comparatively short, ponies were still barely half a meter tall at the shoulder- -and she seemed somewhat surprised at the quick-speaking creature approaching her.

“Oh my,” she said in a slightly accented voice. “You wouldn’t happen to be Councilor Garrus, would you?”

“No,” said Garrus, stepping forward. “That would be me.”

Rarity’s eyes widened. “Oh…oh my.”

“You’re so shiny,” said the lankier teenage unicorn at Rarity’s side.

“Sweetie Belle!” hissed Rarity. She addressed the Councilors. “If you could, please forgive my younger sister. I brought her along to attempt to expose her to greater galactic culture, but she seems not to grasp the full intricacy of diplomatic discourse.”

“I was just pointing out a fact,” said Sweetie Belle, sounding annoyed.

“She was,” said Garrus. “I am shiny. I guess. It’s not something people normally point out, but I guess I’ll take it as a compliment.” Garrus gestured toward Kalejen. “This is Councilor Kalejen, of the salarians. I am Garrus Vakarian, turian.” He pointed behind him to where Falere was waiting patiently. She smiled kindly. “And this is Councilor Falare, asari.”

“It is an honor to finally meet an emissary of the elusive Equestrian Empire,” said Falare. “And if I may say so, the gemstones in your headdress are quite stunning.”

Rarity’s eyes seemed to sparkly. “Why, thank you! I actually have a similar set that I brought as gifts. I can work some of them into a similar piece, if you like…although perhaps something in ruby?”

“Ambassador,” said Garrus. “We certainly didn’t want to imply that you needed to bring gifts.”

“Oh, please call me Rarity, Councilor. And don’t be ridiculous! First impressions are of the absolute utmost importance, and I certainly want this historical event to get off to a good start!”

“Yeah,” said Sweetie Belle. “ And if the negotiations break down and we’re forced to carpet-bomb your homeworlds, at least you’ll have presents!”

Rarity looked at her sister aghast, and the white Pegasus cleared her throat.

“Madame Ambassador,” she said. “Forgive my intrusion, but we still need to give attention to your security detail.”

“Oh yes!” Rarity looked out at the crowd. “I called in advance. It is my personal belief that it is absolutely essential to shop local, and to have somepony- -excuse me, I mean ‘somebody’- -who understands the local culture.”

“So she hired a mercenary,” said Sweetie Belle.

The hanar Si’y pushed past a slightly ashamed looking Kalejen. Rarity looked at him, momentarily not sure what she was actually looking at.

“Honorable Ambassador Rarity of Equestria,” he said, bowing awkwardly. “This one is the mercenary that has been requested. The face-name of this one is Si’y.” He reached out with one armored tentacle and gently lifted Rarity’s front hoof. He knelt down- -or as close as a hovering creature could come to kneeling- -and gestured as though he were kissing it, a horribly corny gesture that looked like something out of an old human film. “And might this one add that it was not expecting a creature of such beauty and poise to be its employer, if only on a temporary basis. It will take great pleasure in serving such a pony in anything that she requires.”

Rarity blushed, and Sweetie Belle suppressed some mild laughter. “You certainly understand proper politeness,” she said. “I can only assume that you are at least equally effective in combat?”

“The kill count of this one is most impressive indeed.”

“Good.” Rarity pointed at the winged pony. “You will report to O17F. She will coordinate you with my other guards.”

“You have more?” asked Kalejen.

“Oh, of course. But I didn’t want to come out of the ship with them, that would be simply discourteous.” She looked up at the salarian and turian guards and caught herself. “Of course, it’s okay that you’re doing it.”

“We simply wanted to make sure that you were kept safe,” said Falere, deflecting the criticism. “Your wellbeing is important to us. And, of course, I am sorry to admit that we are not terribly familiar with pony biology, so if any of our conditions are not to your liking…”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage,” said Rarity, trotting more comfortably out amongst the Councilors. “The height of everything might take some getting used to, though. I had no idea that aliens would be so…tall.”

Garrus gestured toward the door. “You know, we had a tour planned, if you’re interested.”

“Unless the Ambassador is tired from her journey and would like to retire early,” snapped Kalejen. She had never been a fan of the idea of a tour, or of the ambassador seeing or being seen by the citizens of the Citadel. She claimed it introduced too many undefined variables.

“A tour?” said Sweetie Belle. She suddenly seemed interested in what was going on around her. “With free samples, maybe? Of, like, food?”

“We have a reception planned,” said Kalejen. “You can eat there.”

“And if you don’t like that,” said Garrus, “I can have my secretary take you out later. She knows where all the best restaurants are. And believe me, Valena definitely needs to get out more.”

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t want you to carpet bomb Palaven, would I?”

Sweetie Belle winced, realizing that she had badly misspoke in mentioning that. Her response was good, though, because it meant she knew. Garrus could not help but relate to that; he had felt exactly the same way early on in his political career.

Still, the threat was still nagging. Garrus could not stop thinking about the semi-mythical planet-destroying cannon that the Equestrians were supposed to have, waiting and prepared to be teleported into position at any moment. The ponies had a unique tactical advantage, and this was not a fight that he could win by brute force and raw firepower. It had to be won with words and negotiations, and Garrus felt himself wishing Shepard were beside him. That had always been his real strength, but at the same time had always been something Garrus had lacked.

“Well?” said Rarity. “Shall we go, then?”

“Yes,” said Garrus. He was once again glad of the fact that turians could not sweat, because at least he could pretend not to be terrified. “Of course.”

As Rarity began her tour of the various features of the Citadel carefully selected to show off the most ideal and prosaic view of life in Council Space, the Serpent Nebula mass relay suddenly activated. In its corresponding observations stations, the workers took note of the activation. Unscheduled use of the mass relay was not abnormal; vessels came and went almost constantly, whether they were private craft, transports, traders or military vehicles. One of the workers, however, noticed an inconsistency: whatever craft was coming through bore no standard IFF.

Before she could alert her superiors, she looked out the observation window at the relay and saw the flash of light as a ship emerged from it- -and immediately she knew that something was wrong.

The ship- -if it could even be called that, as it more closely resembled a spiny collection of crystal- -was badly damaged, trailing flecks of crystal and a coronal trail of discharging energy as it flew inconsistently and shakily at immensely high speed.

Almost as soon as it exited, the craft slammed into the side of a superfreighter. The asari worker winced, expecting to now have to deal with administering an emergency rescue and recovery. As she watched, though, the crystalline ship simply cut through the freighter as though it were barely even there, creating a long gouge down its side.

She immediately opened a communications channel on all frequencies.

“Unidentified ship, you are travelling too fast for your present trajectory! Identify yourself immed- -”

The ship responded, but what came back was not words so much as a distorted assortment of overamplified tones and screeching that nearly deafened the asari. She immediately changed the channel. “Commander, we have a problem.”

The mass of crystal plunged through space, trailing debris and smoke behind it as it exceeded the top speed of most smaller vessels. On the surface of the Citadel, the defensive turrets activated and their operators suddenly went into high alert.

“Attention unidentified craft,” said the main Citadel landing coordinator, transmitting again on all frequencies and finding himself hardly able to believe the information he was receiving from the relay observation tower. “Turn back and prepare to accept escort. Any further approach will result in your immediate destruction REPEAT your IMMEDIATE DESTRUCTION.”

The ship ignored him, not even slowing. He had no choice but to authorize the use of lethal force.

The turrets fired, sending their computer-targeted projectiles through the crowd of gathering ships waiting to land and into the hull of the crystal object. The object responded by generating a solid blue field of energy around itself. The first barrage was absorbed harmlessly, but halfway through the second the shield cracked and shattered. The ship attempted evasive maneuvers, but several of the mass projectiles struck its remaining stabilization pylons and it veered off course, falling into a spiral as it continued to approach the Citadel.

Onboard, an alert went out for an imminent impact. Garrus had already received word of the situation and of a possible incursion through his omnitool and was about to rush the ambassador to safety when the klaxon sounded. The region they had been passing through was a historical residential district, and although the individual blast shields on the residences slammed closed, the large bay windows along the hallway were old and had not yet been retrofitted to the new standards. Garrus was able to watch as a glittering blue-pink object dropped from above, slamming into several buildings with incredible force and bouncing as it was deflected downward.

When it finally reached the floor of the Citadel, it hit the ground with enough force to knock the nearby pedestrians off balance from the vibration. The object bounced several times, rolling as its spines dug into and penetrated the material below. Garrus held onto the window, watching in horror as atmosphere began to vent through the holes it produced. Crashes were not unheard of, but the speed that this object had hit was far greater than anything Garrus had ever witnessed.

Then, finally, it came to rest. The alarm continued to sound, and lights were flashing. The others around Garrus seemed stunned, but even after almost twenty five years Garrus felt his instincts kick in.

“You,” he said, pointing at one of the turian guards. “Secure the ambassador! Get her and the others out of here!”

The guard looked stunned for a moment, as did the others. They had frozen. Of all the well-trained turian and salarian guards present, the only one who actually reacted was the mercenary hanar.

“Madame Ambassador,” he said. “And her sister Sweetie Belle, you need to come with this one. It is no longer safe here.”

Rarity did not seem to listen. Instead, she walked toward the window. When she saw the damage, her eyes widened.

“No,” she whispered, stepping back and shaking her head. “No no no….not here, not now!”

“Ambassador, this one recommends that you do not view the carnage- -”

“You!” said Rarity, shouting up at Garrus with a level of authority that actually left him slightly taken aback. “Don’t let anypony approach that vessel! Don’t let them even get NEAR it!”

“Ambassador,” said Kalejen, overcoming her shock at having actually witnessed real carnage for once in her life. “We have procedures in place for this- -”

“You do not understand! That is a Crystal Empire long-range fighter, and as long as it’s in one piece, it’s still active and more dangerous than anything you primitives have ever even THOUGHT OF!”

“Ambassador,” snapped Garrus, “what about its crew? You can’t expect us to just leave them!” He made the point largely out of annoyance at being called a ‘primitive’. After an impact like that, nothing could have survived.

“Crystal vessels are unmared- -they don’t have pilots!” Rarity looked Garrus in the eye. “Garrus, please, I know this isn’t something you would understand, but you have to trust me on this. The Crystals- -”

“Garrus,” said Falare, putting her hand to her earpiece. “A commando unit in the area has already responded. You are not going to believe this- -but they’ve recovered something that they believe to be a survivor.”

Chapter 3: Crystal Pony

“Report,” ordered Garrus as he burst into the high-security wing of the Mordin Solus Memorial hospital. The drell doctor who was standing nearest looked up, and her eyes widened- -if the already massive dark eyes of a drell could even be considered to grow wider.

“Councilor,” she said, surprised by his sudden presence. “I was not aware that I could be expecting you. This really is something that C-Sec- -”

“An alien ship just crashed into my Citadel,” snapped Garrus. “We have casualties on three decks. I am damn-well making this my concern.”

The drell seemed taken aback, but nodded. She led Garrus deeper into the secure wing.

“We did recover a survivor,” said the doctor. “We think.”

“You think?”

The drell looked at Garrus. “My experience in xenobiology is extensive, but I’ve never seen anything like this.”

They reached the inner door of the facility, and the drell put her hand against a biometric scanner. Her omnitool activated, linking her to the locking mechanism. There was a click from within, and the door separated.

The sound of running hooves approached Garrus from behind. He turned to see Rarity and her hanar guard approaching quickly. The mercenary was simply floating lazily, as hanar was apt to do, but Rarity had been running and was winded.

“Councilor Garrus!” she gasped, trying to catch her breath. “I simply must- -demand that you- -oh my, oh no- -I’M SWEATING!”

“Madame Ambassador,” said the hanar, offering her a tentacle. “Are you in need of assistance?”

Rarity swatted the tentacle away. “I’m fine. It’s just…you all have such long legs…” She shook her head. “But I simply must insist that you stop this at once! You have no idea what you are dealing with!”

“Frankly, ambassador, this is out of your jurisdiction.”

“What? How dare you- -”

“I’m sorry. I really am- -but the way I see it, this can go two ways. And one of them is that we were just attacked.”

“That is what I am saying! You can’t just- -”

“This is a negative pressure lab,” said the drell. “You’re letting the air in.”

“I’m going in,” said Garrus, stepping past the door. “You can stay out here if you- -”

“I will certainly not!” said Rarity, holding her head high as she walked past the threshold with her hanar in tow. “If you are going to be an absolute moron, I am certainly going to be there when you make a fool of yourself!”

She continued to walk haughtily beside Garrus, but he largely ignored her. He instead directed his attention to the drell, who led him to a bed where a number of doctors and machines were linked to its occupant.

“What the hell?” whispered Garrus when he saw what was lying there, and he immediately understood why they had quickly moved it into a restricted part of the hospital.

It was essentially a pony, except that instead of being made of flesh covered in thin, soft-looking fur, it was made of solid crystal. It did not seem to be a coating either- -the crystal was translucent, and there appeared to be almost no clear organs within it.

“We’ve attempted surgery,” said the drell. “But we had nothing that could cut through the exoskeleton. As far as we can tell, at least part of it is some kind of artificial coating- -but we can’t tell where the suit ends and the occupant begins.”

“You mean there’s something alive under there?”

“That’s the thing. By all accounts, no. There is no pulse, no respiration, nothing of the sort. At the same time…”

“What?”

“We are detecting brain waves, and a powerful signature characteristic of biotic energy, despite the fact that it does not even contain trace amounts of element zero.”

“Is that even possible?”

“Yes. Apparently.”

Garrsus looked down at the crystalline pony. It looked inert, but the doctors and researchers surrounding it did were not treating it that way. They approached it nervously, attaching and electrodes and medical systems that were not designed for a creature with such a biology in a desperate attempt to determine what exactly it was that they were looking at.

“A body made out of crystal…that explains how it survived the impact.”

Rarity appeared beside Garrus’s knee. “Sweet Celestia,” she said, looking at the creature. “I never thought I would see one with my own eyes.”

“One what?” Garrus looked down at her. “You know what this is?”

Rarity nodded solemnly. “This is a crystal pony.”

“I already know that.”

“No. You don’t understand. It’s not actually a pony. Not really. At least…we don’t think they are.”

“Where is it from?”

“They are from the Crystal Galaxy, the domain of the Dark Goddess Cadence. We have been at war with them for millennia…or had been. We’re currently in an armistice. But the fact that one is here does not bode well. They are not like us. They are brutal, destructive killers.” Rarity looked up at Garrus, her eyes steely and serious. “You NEED to eliminate it immediately. Before it wakes up.”

“You can’t be serious- -”

“Oh, I am.”

“It just survived an impact with the Citadel at several thousand kilometers per hour,” noted the drell doctor. “I don’t think we have a means to kill it.”

“You were actually considering it?” snapped Garrus. “What about the Hippocratic Oath, doctor?”

The drell blinked. “I’m not a human, Councilor.”

“I was being sarcastic. I know what a human looks like. But that doesn’t matter. We’re not going to kill the pony.”

“It’s not a pony,” said Rarity. “It’s living crystal.”

“I don’t care if it’s made of Ryncol and brandy! Half of my friends are ‘brutal, destructive killers’. Besides.” Garrus entered the white, cordoned-off area around the bed. “I have to know what happened.

“You can’t go in there,” said the drell doctor. “And besides, everything we’ve tried has failed to bring it out of unconsciousness- -the state may be permanent.”

Garrus ignored her. He walked up to the crystal pony, and paused for just a moment. Then he slapped it’s crystal face as hard as he could. “Wake the hell up, dammit!”

The crystal pony suddenly lurched, rising suddenly. Its relatively featureless face blinked to life as an internal light scanned the room.

“Holy crap!” cried Garrus, accidentally using a human interjection and backing away quickly. “I didn’t actually think that would work!”

The doctors immediately descended upon the pony, attempting to hold it back as it tried to stand and escape. It threw them off easily, sending one unfortunately small salarian flying.

“Viel- -vok tanar!” it cried, its voice almost mechanical and musical at the same time.

“Calm down!” boomed Garrus. “Just calm down!”

The pony suddenly paused, the roving light on its faceplate focusing on Garrus. “Equestrian- -you speak Equestrian,” it said with a heavy accent.

“You can talk,” said Garrus, both relieved and oddly disturbed.

“Of course I can talk, even if it is in this hideous language of heathen,” snapped the crystal pony. “Are you Equestrian? Where am I?”

“I’m not Equestrian,” explained Garrus, slowly. “You’re on the Citadel- - this is Council space.”

“This name is not recognized. I do not understand. Unless…unless it worked.”

“Unless what worked, exactly?”

Before the crystal pony could answer, Rarity stepped into the light beside Garrus, transfixed by the appearance of the crystal pony. The crystal pony, however, did not share her enthusiasm.

“Equestrian traitor!” it cried, raising one of its hooves. The crystal morphed, shifting where there were no apparent moving parts into some kind of device. Garrus did not know exactly what the crystal pony was doing, but his instincts took over.

He jumped sideways, shielding Rarity with his body as the particle beam went off. His shield ignited and shattered, drained on the first hit. Despite this, he did not hesitate. He took Rarity in his arms and used her as leverage to turn around, drawing a concealed pistol from beneath his Councilor’s robes. He fired three proton rounds in rapid succession into the crystal pony’s hoof, and it screamed as its right foreleg shattered into tiny crystal shards.

Rarity’s hanar mercenary was almost as quick. With the crystal pony disabled, he crossed the room with unexpected speed and wrapped his tentacles around the crystal pony.

“Aren’tok! RELEASE ME!” cried the crystal pony, struggling futilely against the hanar’s surprisingly strong grip.”

“This one recommends that the bizarre and horribly rude quadruped CALM DOWN,” said the hanar. With his one free tentacle, he reached for one of his guns- -and Garrus felt his breath catch when the hanar picked the M-920 and press it against the crystal pony’s chest. “This one has fired zero rounds, and had one round in the chamber- -as the M-920 Cain only holds one- -but asks the bizarre pony: are you feeling fortunate? Huh, nerdowell?”

“STOP!” yelled Garrus. “Don’t even THINK about using that indoors! Everybody just calm down!”

The hanar did not respond, but he likewise did not fire. Of course, with his position behind the crystal pony, the weapon was also pointed at his own body. Garrus doubted that he would fire- -but he knew better than to assume anything when it came to hanar or really anyone who quoted Blasto movies while holding one of the most ridiculously devastating and pointless heavy weapons available on the civilian market.

The crystal pony also seemed to calm down, if only because of the pain of having lost a leg and because he was trapped by the hanar’s surprisingly strong grip. The room fell silent.

Garrus looked down at Rarity, who was cradled in one arm against his chest. She was staring up at him with her enormous blue eyes. “Are you unhurt, ambassador?”

“Oh my,” she whispered, and Garrus felt her forelegs lightly close around him. “I should say not…”

Garrus put her down and approached the restrained crystal pony. “Are you calm enough to talk?”

“I have no words for the allies of Equestrian scum! Not after what they have done!”

“I’m not sure if it’s clear or not, but look around you.” Garrus gestured to the room. “Do we look like ponies?”

“No, but SHE IS. And I intend to kill her.” He looked at Rarity. “And every one of the traitors I can get my hooves around.”

“Well, then,” said Garrus. “We have nothing to talk about. Si’y, was it? Go ahead.”

“Really?” said the hanar. Garrus had never heard one sound so incredulous- -or frighteningly gleeful. The doctors and nurses had only watched, even when Garrus made his threat- -but upon hearing the hanar’s reaction, they sprinted away as quickly as their respective legs could carry them.

“Your insignificant weapon will have no effect against my armor- -”

“I’ve seen what one of those can do. Trust me, it makes effect. A whole LOT of effect.”

“It fires with the force of a small atomic warhead,” noted Si’y- -making Garrus even more doubtful of his sanity by the fact that he actually seemed to be fully aware of what he was doing. “If several proton rounds can have such a substantial impact on your leg, this will, well…”

“Destroy the entire hospital and most of the city block?” said the drell doctor, who was now crouched and peeking from behind a nearby utensil cart.

“You wouldn’t.”

“No. This one SHOULDN’T. But will. It would not be the first time that this one has fired this weapon at a pony.”

Then, to Garrus’s horror, the hanar actually started to squeeze the trigger. The crystal pony seemed to notice this, though, and cried out. “WAIT! STOP!” The crystal around his body morphed again, this time dividing and retracting, pushing away the hanar’s tentacles from the center of his body. The external armor cracked open, pulling apart, and a small pony tumbled out onto the floor.

Garrus blinked. Although the creature that had emerged was still obviously made of solid crystal, he was far smaller than his exoskeleton had made him look. At the same time, he also looked much more pony-like, complete with a tiny- -and adorably angry- -face and large eyes.

“You’re just a little colt!” cried Rarity.

“Don’t laugh!” snapped the colt, stamping his feet. “I am a Class IV Tactical Commander in the Crystal Empire Defensive Fleet! At least I’m not an old HAG!”

Rarity gasped deeply. “How dare you!” She rushed toward the crystal pony, but Garrus held her back.

“I do not know how you can stomach to touch that filth, alien,” said the colt. “I would sooner delve into box of waste cuttings than even LOOK at such an abomination.”

“I will end you!” cried Rarity, struggling uselessly against Garrus’s grip. Garrus expected ponies to be somewhat stronger than they were; Rarity’s body was surprisingly soft and non-muscular. Most concerningly, though, her horn was glowing, indicating that she was preparing a biotic attack.

“Ambassador!” cried Garrus. “This is certainly improper behavior, don’t you think!”

Rarity squeaked and stopped struggling immediately. “You’re- -you’re RIGHT!” She walked over to the corner of the room dejectedly. “I’m…I’m UNCOUTH!”

“Being couth is overrated,” said the Hanar, lowering his weapon and releasing his grip on the crystal armor- -but still keeping his other tentacles close to his shotgun and assault rifle, in case the crystal pony attempted to return to it.

“Now,” said Garrus. “Can you tell us what is going on here? Do you have any idea how much damage you caused?”

“It is not my fault,” said the crystal pony. “My ship was already badly damaged, and you opened fire on me and destroyed my braking system. I had lost most of my stabilizers and was forced to bail. It is part of my standard training.”

“Damaged? What were you damaged by?”

The colt glared at Rarity. “Why don’t you ask HER?”

Garrus turned to Rarity. She looked dumbfounded. “I- -I have no idea what he is talking about!”

“Don’t lie, unicorn filth! Equestria has violated the ceasefire agreement! Your side has ended the armistice!”

That seemed to draw Rarity out of her partial uncouthness stupor. “We most certainly did not! I will not tolerate these wild accusations!”

“Stop!” said Garrus. “Crystal pony- -”

“Wing. My name is Jade Wing.”

Garrus blinked. “Are you female?”

“What did you just say?”

“N…never mind. Your ship took some punishment, whatever attacked you must have had some serious firepower.” That, of course, did not removed the Equestrian navy from suspicion- -if anything, they were cast in greater doubt; their firepower was, in fact, more likely to have damaged Wing’s ship than anything else. “You said you were attacked.”

Wing nodded. “I was on a deep-space recon mission. I was field-testing a new system to utilize the recently discovered relay network architecture. The mission was supposed to be simple: I would take the relay to an alien system, perform some basic maneuvers, and survey some planets. But then I was attacked by an Equestrian vessel.”

“Lies!” cried Rarity.

“I was there!” snapped Wing. “It came out of nowhere! My remote units were destroyed, and I barely managed to get away. It read positive for a Core signature- -and the only known civilization that uses Core ponies is Equestria!”

“Cores are not ponies!” snapped Rarity. “And this is absurd! Councilor, you cannot seriously believe this little- -”

“I’m not making any judgements yet,” said Garrus, putting his hand to his forehead. He was beginning to develop a headache.

“It is worse than that,” said Wing. “We placed survey units in the upper atmospheres of the planets in the region. Indications are that shortly after the Equestrian vessel destroyed the relay node, it immediately set course toward the Crystal Galaxy. They are attacking us.”

“Wait- -a mass relay was destroyed?” Garrus groaned. “What is it with you ponies and destroying our mass relays?! You do realize we don’t have the technology to rebuild them, right?”

“Blame her,” said Wing, pointing. He looked up at Garrus. “I am afraid that an alien instillation was lost in the attack as well.”

“Wait. What installation?”

“I do not know its name. But scans showed beings on it that looked like you.”

“Damn it.” Garrus turned to Rarity, but did not say anything. If the Equestrians were responsible, things had just gotten a whole lot worse- -and within the first hour of negotiations. He decided not to confront her, though. Not yet. “And you came here?”

“I approached the largest node of the architecture. I prayed to the Goddess that I might find aid there. And I have. I know I have been somewhat insulting, but please, if I might speak to your leader…”

“Even this one knows that is cliché,” suggested the hanar.

“I’m already here,” said Garrus.

The crystal pony blinked. “What?”

“I’m the turian Councilor. You can’t get much higher than me.” That, of course, was a lie- -but it was true enough for this situation.

“Oh. Well, that makes this easier. I have come to request your aid. Or, rather, the aid of your people. Please. We share a mutual enemy in this threat, and after witnessing its might, I fear we may not be prepared to defeat it alone. We request your aid in the oncoming battle.”

The room once again fell silent. Garrus could not think of anything to say. Of all the ways this could have gone, it went like this. The one outcome Garrus could never have expected, and what turned out to be the worst possible.

“Crap…” he said. “Just…crap…”

By the time Garrus had finished his report, Councilor Kalejen had blanched at least five shades to pale, dull brown.

“You…you realize the implications of this, don’t you?” she said, her voice barely steady.

“It means nothing,” said Falere. “We are not obligated to do anything that this crystal-pony asks us for.”

“It’s not that simple,” sighed Garrus. “According to him, he has royal authority to request assistance on behalf of his government. An request from him has the full weight of a request from their queen.”

“Princess,” corrected Rarity, who was standing beside the Council podiums. “A ruling monarch is called a Princess.”

“It doesn’t matter what we call her,” said Kalejen. She turned to Garrus. “Why did you have to engage with it?!”

“Me? Don’t try to pin this on- -”

“If you hadn’t talked to it, we wouldn’t have this problem!”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“You should have killed it when you had the chance,” said Rarity, darkly.

“What- -you’ve got to be kidding. It’s a child!”

“It is a walking weapon. It may look like a real colt, but it isn’t. It’s the enemy. And now look what it’s done…”

“I will suggest that we grant its request,” said Falere. She was the only one that appeared to be remaining calm.

“I admire your compassion in this regard,” said Rarity, dismissively, “but you simply can’t be serious.”

“I most certainly am, Ms. Rarity.”

Kalejen put her elbows on her podium and put her head into her hands, taking a long sigh. “Don’t be an idiot. Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“We can’t turn him away.”

“You have to,” said Rarity. “Equestria may currently be at peace with the Crystal Empire, but they ARE our enemy. From a diplomatic standpoint, providing material support to our rival would be…well, improper. Besides, you can’t seriously believe that his request is real.”

“Why would he be lying?” asked Garrus.

“Isn’t it obvious? This is no doubt a plan to disrupt the diplomatic deliberations- -it is simply too great of a coincidence that he ‘crashed’ into your Citadel moments after I arrived. Imagine this, if you will.” Rarity stepped forward, toward the Councilors. “Say you believe him. Being generous and kind and foolish, you send a fleet to the Crystal Galaxy- -and your primitive spacecraft are blown out of the sky. The Crystal Empire claims that I was sent here to convince you into a third-party attack, and the war starts again with them taking the moral high ground.”

“I don’t think morality has anything to do with it,” said Falere. “In war, nobody can take the moral high ground.”

“The various factions in Equestria will not see it that way. Civil strife may result. And the war…” Rarity trailed off. “We have barely had peace for ten years. I am old enough to remember the war. I lost a lot of friends to it. We all did. Things were said, and done…terrible things.” She looked up at them. “And I won’t let you start it again.”

“Is that a threat?” asked Garrus.

“I wish it did not have to be. I truly hoped- -and still hope- -that we can be friends. But if you aid the Crystal Empire…I’m afraid that will be taken off the table.”

“But then there’s the catch,” said Kalejen, her voice accelerating as she hyperventilated. “If we deny this Crystal Empire aid, we make THEM our enemy.”

“Technically,” noted Falere, “we were already doing that by allying ourselves with Equestria.”

“We can offer you protection,” said Rarity.

“No,” said Falere. “You can offer an occupation.”

“Your technology is simply not advanced enough to defend yourselves,” said Rarity, defensively. “Your society has only the most minimal concept of magic. I am offering help.”

“We don’t want it.”

“That may be true, but you need it.”

“Maybe not,” said Garrus.

“Garrus?” said Falere.

“I think we should send them help.”

“You clearly are either a fool or a poor listener,” said Kalejen. “Oh wait, you’re a turian. Nevermind. We JUST WENT OVER THIS. We can’t do that!”

“That wasn’t very professional,” said Rarity. “You should apologize for that.”

“I’m used to it,” said Garrus. “And I was listening. It’s not like we can afford to send a fleet anyway- -but what if we just sent one ship?”

“You mean a fact-finding mission,” said Falere. “To determine if the crystal-pony’s story is true?”

“Exactly. To see if there really is a threat- -and what exactly they expect us to do about it.” He looked down at Rarity. “And you’re already here. We can pull you into the negotiations to maintain our neutrality.”

“I don’t know how possible that will be,” said Rarity. “Even one ship- -”

“What can one ship hurt? It doesn’t even have to be Council. We can hire a contractor.”

“And deny responsibility if it is…eliminated,” suggested Kalejen, suddenly becoming excited. “That…that might actually work.”

“It’s still not a good idea,” said Rarity. “The crystal ponies are xenophobic and aggressive. They will not take kindly to an alien approaching them, even in just one ship.”

“What if it wasn’t an alien?” said Garrus.

Rarity looked confused. “What are you implying?”

“I’m implying that I think I know somebody that could help.”

Chapter 4: Light

Captain Kurel leaned down from his chair, absentmindedly chewing at his fingernails. In a circle around him, his fellow baterians were hard at work on the ship’s computer, and the transparent screens that circled the room were covered in rapidly scanning representations of the deconvolution algorithms that the pirate crew was attempting to engage.

“Have you found anything yet?” he snapped.

“No,” said one of the crew. “Captain, there’s nothing here. Are you sure these are even the right coordinates?”

“Of course they are,” said the first-mate. “It’s just like it was the last time. These are the exact coordinates he gave us.”

“Find him!” yelled Kurel. “I don’t want to go into this at a disadvantage! If we can’t see him, we LOSE.”

The crew knew that, and silently went back to their computers. Kurel continued to watch through the windows, as if he could somehow see the mysterious vessel with his own eyes. He knew that it was out there- -it had to be- -and HE was on it, waiting.

One of the crew turned to his comrade and whispered. “Has anyone ever actually seen this guy before?”

“No,” said the other pirate. “We don’t know anything about him. He just shows up, takes the package and pays.”

“How does he take the package if we can’t see him?”

“I don’t know! He just does!”

“You know,” said a third participant in the conversation. “You remember that quarian cell we crossed last week? I asked them about it. They won’t even talk. The only one who did said that he’s some kind of ghost, a thing born in space.”

“He isn’t a ghost,” said Kurel. “He’s just a man. What would a ghost need with these parts, do you think? And he is out there somewhere. Probably watching us, laughing.”

“There!” cried one of the crewmembers, standing up so fast that he hit his head on the low ceiling.

“On screen!” demanded Kurel.

The pirate, rubbing his head, sat back down and entered the parameters into the computer. One of the auxiliary screens focused, drawing and amplifying an image around a component of the system’s star. The image was grainy and shaky, but Kurel smiled when he saw the characteristic silhouette of a spacecraft.

“There,” he said, on the verge of laughter. “That fool thinks he so smart- -he’s using the star’s corona to mask his signal!”

“We’re getting a lot of interference...” The pirate at the computer paused. “I…I can’t get a reading on a mass core.”

“That’s just the disruption of the star. Unless he was foolish enough to deactivate his core to hide.” Kurel turned to the first-mate. “Prulag, have us moved into position and target him- -but don’t let him know that we know where he is. Not yet.”

“Right away, Cap- -”

The first mate froze as a signal suddenly hissed and buzzed on the ship’s open channel. A tone came through, and then another. The entire deck went silent as several more clicked into place, forming a slow and strange song. Kurel was not terribly knowledgeable about music, but he knew that the song was not baterian; perhaps human, maybe asari. Whatever it was, it was somehow terrifying- -but he covered his nervousness with false bravado as one of the empty screens filled with a strange, abstract shape.

“You are not Rokon,” said a deep male voice. Kurel nearly fell out of his chair. There should have been no way he could have known that fact.

“I’m afraid not,” he said, smiling and adjusting his hat. “Our former captain met a rather unfortunate end. A terrible accident in the airlock. Grotesque indeed.”

“Do not expect to leverage that to renegotiate the price we agreed upon. Do you have the chip?”

Kurel held up a case, as if it was somehow visible to the person on the other side of the screen. “An experimental quarian tech neurointerface chip. Worth a fortune alone, plus the labor…you have no idea how hard it was to get it out of its last owner.”

“The agreed upon number of credits will be transferred to your account upon my receive of the package.”

“Well…no. No it won’t.”

The speaker on the other side paused. “Tread carefully here, Kurel. I am not someone you should take lightly.”

“Lightly…that’s your name, isn’t it? They call you ‘Light’. And by ‘they’, I mean the other pirate clans. Oh yes, Light, I know. You haven’t been trading with just us. You’ve been all over the galaxy. Not even in the same region. EVERYWHERE.”

“Rokon was aware of this fact. I never claimed to have an exclusive relationship with your organization.”

“That’s not what I mean. I talked to the others. Some were surprised to hear about you…and others required far more vigorous persuasion to give up their manifests. You’ve been busy, Light. It’s not just this chip. Biotic amplifiers, neural control modules, tech auxiliary reactors, every kind of omnitool part I can imagine, and some things even I can’t. You have acquired enough technology to build an army.”

“And so what if I have?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t think you have. Most of what you buy, it isn’t in working order. Much of it is junk…or would be short of some ridiculous laboratory. The kind that you might have access to if you were Alliance, or Citadel…or Cerberus.”

“I belong to none of those organizations. Not that it concerns you, Kurel.”

Kurel shivered. Light knew his name, even though he had never stated it. “Yes it does. Because that makes this easier. See, all those parts, I’m betting you fixed them. And you haven’t resold them. I want them, Light. And you are going to give them to me.” He turned quickly to his first-mate. “Fire to disable!”

“Firing…”

The ship shook as the pair of mass cannons opened fire, propelling light-speed slugs toward Light’s badly hidden ship. Kurel smiled and watched the shaky, grainy image on the screen, waiting to see the impact- -but it never came.

“C…captain!” squeaked one of the crew. Kurel almost yelled at him to not disturb him while trying to watch for impact, but he had never heard a baterian squeak like that before. He turned to see what the crewmember was concerned about, and saw him staring out a window. When Kurel saw what was outside the window, he squeaked too: there, suspended just outside the thick transparent material, as a blue, glowing object. A similar one was present on the other side of the vessel. Both mass slugs had been stopped in their tracks and now stood suspended outside the ship.

“I warned you,” said Light.

“Full reverse!” cried Kurel.

“But captain- -”

“FULL REVERSE!”

The ship did not move. The first mate looked up. “Captain, the engines aren’t responding!” The ship suddenly started shaking profoundly, and Kurel thrown out of his chair. “Captain! We’re- -the reactor! It’s hemorrhaging element zero!”

“How?! Are we hit?!”

“No- -we can’t be- -but- -”

Farther below deck, several of the pirates were already readying themselves for battle, taking up arms without needing to be told what was coming. As several of them ran down the hall toward the engine, a suddenly flash of blue light blocked their path. From the surge or energy, a figure stepped out, clad entirely in black armor, her face obscured by an atmospheric stabilization mask.

“Captain!” cried one. “Reporting intruder on deck- -”

The black-clad figure raised her hands, and both surged with biotic energy. The two baterians were immediately reduced to puddles of red liquid under the sudden surge of gravity. More seemed to become aware of the commotion and emerged, drawing their various weapons. The masked figure did not stop or slow; she raised her hands and flicked them to the sides. The baterians rose into the air and screamed as their flesh corroded from their bodies, pulled apart from their skeletons. The figure walked past the hovering skeletons, only pausing to emit a biotic shockwave that rent through the metal of the ship and forced the atmosphere in her area to vent.

The inside of her helmet lit up with the coordinates sent to her from her ship outside, and she slowly started toward where Kurel was fleeing.

Above, the captain pushed past his men as they rushed forward either to make emergency repairs to the dying vessel or to defend against the oncoming intruder. He, of course, being the captain, was too important to waste his life trying to defend a worthless ship. Something told him that he had made a horrible miscalculation, even though he did not understand what was happening.

There was only one clear recourse, though. He rushed through his ship and dove into his quarters.

“Captain!” called his first-mate, his most loyal co-conspirator in the mutiny against Captain Rokon. “Kurel! Wait!”

There was no time. Kurel slammed his fist into the emergency panel to his quarters and the blast door slammed closed. The first-mate pounded on the door and yelled, but his voice was obscured through the eight inches of reinforced polycarbon alloy. Kurel would have blocked it out anyway. All he was concerned about now was protecting the case he held at his chest. That, and trying to figure out how to work the ship’s escape pod.

The vessel shook again, and several screams and gunshots were audible through the thick metal door. Kurel started sweating as he desperately tried to load his various loot into the mostly defunct escape pod. Then, outside, everything went silent.

Kurel paused. For a moment, he allowed himself to believe that they had not known that he was there, that he had gotten away somehow- -but then a fist slammed through his door, cutting through the metal with biotic energy as if the blast shield were made of paper. A second surge of blue light reduced the door to ash, and a black-clad figure stepped in.

Kurel drew his pistol and fired several polonium bullets at the woman in black. Her body ignited with blue energy and the bullets disintegrated against her harmlessly.

“Asari bitch!” cried Kurel, eventually just throwing the pistol at her. He leapt for the escape pod- -and found himself suddenly floating in the air, unable to move.

Now fully panicked, he watched as the asari walked beneith him. She looked up at him through her respirator mask, almost mockingly, and then lifted a palm-sized, disk-shaped object near his face. The disk flashed, and Light’s abstract image appeared as a small hologram.

“Hello, Kurel,” he said. “I’m sorry you made me do this. I would like my chip, if you don’t mind.”

“Take it!” said Kurel, pointing at the case. “Not that you’ll ever be able to open it! The lock’s encrypted!”

“So I cannot have the chip, then? Well, I suppose there is no reason to keep you alive if that is the case.”

“WAIT! No, I didn’t- -”

“It may not be immediately apparent, but I actually have something of a moral code. I do not like to kill. I have a strong aversion to it. I cannot say the same of my associate, however. Your fate will be left at her discretion.”

The hologram vanished, and Kurel felt himself fall to the ground. He cried out from the impact, and got onto his knees. As he did, he felt a hand close around his head. The last thing he heard was a loud noise, and the last thing he saw was a flash of blue light as his head was liquefied by a point-blank biotic blast and his vital tissue scattered across the goods he had sought to preserve.

The dark-clad figure paused for a moment to survey the scene, and then picked up the case. Blue light flashed around her, and she was gone. The pirate vessel was left depopulated and silent, floating adrift in space without a single living soul aboard.

The teleport dropped the armored woman into a new location, and her boots clicked down against the translucent blue floor beneath her. She looked up through one of the more transparent pieces of plating and watched as the derelict pirate vessel seemed to drift as her own vessel departed.

Reaching up to her face, Jack removed her helmet. She took a deep breath of the cold, thin atmosphere. The air had no smell. It was sterile and perfect. Jack had spent her life on spacecraft, but she just could not manage to get over the lack of a smell- -or how this particular ship had no sound of ventilation or engines. It was as silent as space itself.

Her boots clicked across the floor as she passed down another hallway of translucent blue and orange plates, their glow lighting her way. The sound produced as she moved over the tech and biotic pieces of the ship was similar to walking on either very thick crystal or very thin silver. It was somewhat unnerving to be mere inches away from the void outside, separated only by a narrow wall of energy- -but Jack had become accustomed to things much worse than a tech-biotic ship.

What she could not become accustomed to, however, was how her age had come to affect her body. It had been five years since she had last worked for the vorcha Sjdath, and even then she had not been young. She was now nearing her fiftieth birthday, and she could feel it. The last battle was easy. The pirates had not even been able to fight back- -it should have made Jack feel better. Instead, her lower back ached and she felt tired. The old Cerberus implants in her head were buzzing and clicking, and she felt mildly nauseous. The only thing she could be glad of was that she had left her original knees back on Earth twenty two years ago. Cybernetic legs did not hurt.

The vessel was not especially large, at least not usually. Even taking her time, Jack reached the engine room quickly. She looked up to the center of the large room. In the center, a violet-coated pony was suspended by tech and biotic constructs that linked to the implants in her spine.

“Starsaid Jack, looking up at her friend. Starlight did not respond. Her purple eyes just stared into the distance as though she were looking at something tremendously far away. Jack gasped, hoping that what she had been fearing for months had not finally happened.

“STARLIGHT!” she cried, throwing the case to her side and rushing toward the pony.

The sudden shift in volume caused Starlight to blink and at Jack. “Jack. There you are.”

“Star! You blacked out again!”

“I did?” Starlight blinked, confused. “Oh. Yeah. I was finishing up the hack on the pirates’ respective bank accounts. After what you did, they won’t be needing their money anymore.”

“What I did?” said Jack, noting Starlight’s accusatory tone. “What do you mean what I did?”

“What do I mean? Well, let’s just say I’m glad I won’t be the one on cleanup over there.” Starlight sighed. “Jack, you didn’t have to kill them like that.”

“Rokon was our friend- -MY friend. We were part of the same crew back in my pirate days. Do you really think I could just let that go?”

“I only asked you to get the package. We might even have negotiated a new deal…oh well.” Starlight’s horn glowed, and she reached out with her biotic energy toward the case on the floor. She lifted it up in front of her, and three rapidly shifting spirals of orange tech construct appeared around it. Starlight’s eyes flitted from region to region as she hacked through its encryption in seconds, and then opened the case. From inside, she removed a tiny hexagonal chip.

“That’s what we went through all this trouble for?”

Starlight eyed Jack and smiled. “‘That’ is a quantum-span neural interface. It links the user to their omnitool through direct neural command.”

“You can already do that.”

“I know, but with this I can do it exponentially faster- -and I can double its output if I link it to my tertiary biotic parsing unit. Assuming I up my neural clockrate by at least thirty percent…anyway, I’ll prep myself for surgery immediately.”

“Starlight,” said Jack. She sighed. This conversation had come up yet again- -and it never went well. “You know how I feel about this.”

“Ah,” said Starlight. A spherical, orange-colored starmap appeared in front of her. “Of course.” She paused for a moment, manipulating the sphere mentally. “There,” she said, pointing with one armor-clad hoof at a system. “The sixth planet has an automated gas-mining station. We can stop there. After all, I will be doing brain surgery. And if I were to pass out, well, the entire ‘ship’ goes out with me. That would be very bad for you.”

Jack stepped through the hologram and faced Starlight, her reflective silver eyes meeting Starlight’s large purple ones. “Star, that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Jack- -”

“These implants, it’s too much. WAY too much. Starlight, you’ve already got more implants in you than most of the salarian army- -and it’s not good for you.”

“I feel fine,” said Starlight, defensively.

“Really? What about the blackouts? And when was the last time you slept?”

“I don’t need sleep. Not anymore.”

“That’s what I mean- -it’s like you’re hardly even a pony anymore.”

Starlight glared at her. “So it’s fine when you do it, but not me? Is that what you’re saying?”

Jack pointed at her. “Do NOT bring that up. Do you think I ASKED for Cerberus to put this stuff in my body?”

Starlight sighed, exasperated. “Jack, listen to me. I NEED these implants. I need more power.”

“Um, have you looked around you? We’re in a ship made ENTIRELY OUT OF YOUR BIOTIC CONSTRUCTS!”

“My biology is innately superior at biotic dissipation than- -”

“Bull! Two years ago, you would never have been able to pull this off- - nobody could! Nobody SHOULD be able to do this!”

“I told you, Jack. I NEED this.” Starlight’s eyes narrowed. “I’m just one pony. Do you think I can just walk into Equestria and just ASK them to surrender?”

“This whole Equestria thing again- -Starlight, I think you might- -”

“What? Give up? After what they did to me? They took me away from my parents. They cut me apart and made me an engine to power one of their damn ships- -and not just me. My entire race! I can’t forgive that. You know I can’t.”

Jack turned away, and calmed herself. In her advanced age, staying angry was growing increasingly difficult. “I know, Star. I know exactly what that feels like.”

“Jack, I’m sorry,” said Starlight, calming down. “I didn’t mean to yell. I just- -oh, wait a minute…”

“What?”

“We’re getting a priority transmission. Do we know anyone on the Citadel?”

“Yes. Ignore it.”

Starlight ignored Jack instead of the transmission. A large square screen of tech energy appeared in front of her and filled with light. Starlight moved it away from herself so that both her and Jack would be able to see it.

The image resolved quickly, and a scarred turian was suddenly staring back at them.

“Jack,” said Garrus. “It’s good to…wait, what the hell are you on?”

“Turn it off,” said Jack.

“Sure,” said Starlight.

“No, wait! Don’t you dare! I will find you!”

“Oh really? Like you helped me find Starlight when she was kidnapped by the Equestrian military? HMMM?”

“Jack, that was five years ago, I don’t- -”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over how busy I am right now.”

Garrus groaned and turned to Starlight. “Ms. Glimmer, you’re the rational one here.”

“You know it’s bad when the rational one in the room is the horse,” noted Starlight.

“Tell me about it.”

“Why are you talking to me? I hardly even know you.”

“Because I have a problem. And I think you can help me.”

“Not interested,” said Starlight. “Despite what you may have heard, I’m not a mercenary.”

“I have access to a lot of Council resources. I can pay you.”

Starlight laughed. “Money? Do you think I want MONEY? I’m a Core, not a prostitute.”

Garrus looked to the sides of the screen, as if he was looking around the room on his own side. “Valena!” he said. “Yes, you! What other Valena would I be talking to? Go take a lunch break- -I don’t care if you’re not hungry, just go! And lock the door on the way out!”

There was a long pause, ostentatiously as Valena left the room. Then Garrus leaned closely into the screen. “We’ve been watching you, Ms. Glimmer.”

“You mean you’ve been spying on us,” said Jack.

“Semantics. But we’ve noticed you’ve been buying a lot of enhancements. Real heavy-duty tech and biotic upgrades.”

“Is that illegal?”

“With the stuff you’ve been buying, yes. VERY. But I’m willing to overlook that.”

“Not that the Council could even do anything about it,” said Jack. “I hear you’re too busy throwing humans off the Citadel to be bothered with actually doing your jobs.”

Garrus sighed. “I can see why Shepard liked you so much. But no. Actually, we have something you might be interested.”

“Go on.”

“Star! You can’t be serious!”

“We’re clearly important enough to get a call from the great Councilor Vakarian,” said Starlight, her sarcasm blatant. “Let’s at least try to listen.”

“I have a Reaper biotic amplifier.”

The room went silent for several seconds.

“You have a WHAT?” said Jack.

“You heard me.”

“I thought all the Reaper tech was destroyed after the war!”

Garrus shook his head. “Not all of it. Some of it was locked away for research purposes. Almost every advancement in galactic technology in the last two decades had been thanks to that research.”

“And how many people died trying to let us warm our turian milk faster?”

“More than I like to count. You’re right, though. Some of the technology is simply too dangerous. The biotic amplifier is one of them. We can’t figure out how it works. But in the right hands…or hooves…”

“What does it do?”

Garrus smiled. Starlight was now listening intently. “Have you ever heard of a banshee?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Jack.

“They were Reaper asari in the war. I fought them. So did Jack. Those things…it took me, Shepard, and a prothean almost half an hour to take one down. And what we have locked in a Citadel vault makes the components we recovered from them look like toys.”

“And where exactly did you acquire it?” asked Starlight.

“We found it in the wreckage of an old Cerberus station. Apparently, they tried to connect it to a human. The detonation was apparently…impressive. No idea what they pulled it out of, though.”

Starlight paused, considering. “And what, exactly, do you want me to do?”

“Star!”

“I just want you to think about it- -but think quickly. And if you’re interested, come to the Citadel. We’ll discuss it there.”

Garrus leaned back, and before Jack could yell at him more, deactivated the connection. The screen went to static, and Starlight dissipated it.

“Star,” said Jack. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

“You’ve known Vakarian longer than I have. Is he one to lie?”

“No, but- -”

“Jack. That implant might be just what I need.”

“If you want to fight Equestria as a suicide bomber maybe.”

“No. No one else can use that. As a pony- -a unicorn- -my body may be able to withstand it.”

“That’s a bit ‘if’! Star, even if it works- -”

“If it works, just think of what I’ll be able to do. How many Cores I could save…”

“Star, please!”

Starlight looked to Jack. “We can at least see what he wants. Besides, I know you’ve been wanting to walk around shirtless on the Citadel for a while now.”

Jack refused to allow herself to smile even though she knew what Starlight was saying was true.

“Fine,” she said. “I need a drink anyway. And probably to punch that smug turian in the face. But you owe me.”

Starlight smiled. “Sure, Jack.” She promptly set her course toward the Citadel.

Chapter 5: On the Citadel

A blue sphere of energy erupted outside the Citadel, and a starship mad entirely out of angular pieces of blue and orange energy pulled itself from the void. There was no response from the Citadel; they had already been told to expect this arrival and not to interfere. Even then, though, none of their sensors detected the incoming vessel. They were simply not designed to track a vehicle with no mass and traditional engine.

A docking bay had already been prepared. Specifically, the bay selected was a repair hanger usually meant for heavily damaged vessels. Ships normally docked by universal umbilicals, but as the craft entered the hanger door to this particular bay began to close. Once it was sealed, the room pressurized. Once the atmosphere had been restored, two asari workers entered the room.

One of the workers looked up at the ship hovering silently in the center of the room. “What the hell is that thing?”

“I have no idea,” said the other, checking her omnitool.

As they were talking, the ship suddenly shifted and, in an instant, dissipated entirely. A human in asari armor and a small pony in similar quadrupedal armor dropped to the floor. The pair of asari had been expecting an actual ship, and now stood dumbfounded.

“What are you looking at?” demanded the human. Unlike most female humans, her hair was cut to barely a centimeter long, save for a pair of symmetrical areas where two tattoos were visible. Her eyes were silver and reflective in the concentrated, bright light of the repair bay.

Likewise, the small creature beside her was completely foreign. Most of the Citadel by now knew what ponies were, and many had seen films of Ambassador Rarity on the extranet- -but almost none had seen a pony in person. She was smaller than either of the asari expected, with enormous eyes and oddly colored blue and violet hair cut into a tight bob. Her body was covered in armor, but much of her back was apparently exposed- -and both of the asari engineers could recognize the extensive implants that had been built into her.

“You- -you can’t be here,” said the younger of the asari to the human. “Earth is currently under class four sanctions- -humans are not permitted on the Citadel!”

“Oh really,” said Jack, calmly. She raised one hand and ignited it with biotic energy that made both of the asari step back in surprise. “I suppose you’ll want to stop me, then?”

“Jack,” said the pony, “please don’t make a mess. They’re just doing their job. To be honest, I wouldn’t let you in here either.”

“Why? Because I’m just too likable?”

“No. Because everywhere you go something gets…well…liquefied. Or pulverized. Or do you remember that quarian?”

“What…what happened to the quarian?” squeaked the younger of the two asari.

“Never mind. And trust me, it’s not as though either of us want to be here. We were summoned by Councilor Garrus.”

The asari looked at each other. “They told us to expect someone, but I didn’t know that it would be…you.”

“Just get out of my way,” said Jack. She snapped her fingers and the two asari were lifted into the air. They cried out and clung to each other, even though the biotic levitation was relatively harmless.

“Jack!”

“What? It’s funny.”

“It is, actually.”

They walked past the floating asari toward the door to the room. Several more workers had arrived to watch, and they backed away from Starlight and Jack- -save for one krogan. The insignia on his uniform indicated that he was C-Sec.

“I suppose you want to try to stop me, too?” said Jack.

“I’m krogan, not stupid,” he said. “I’m the one they sent to take you two to the Councilor.”

“Really? You know, you could have stopped her before she did that to those two, right?”

“But it’s funny. Besides, they’ll come down eventually. They will come down, right?”

“Probably,” said Jack.

The krogan shrugged. “Good enough.” He lead them through the door and into the Citadel. “You know,” he said. “You tiny-horses are smaller than I thought you’d be.”

“Pony,” corrected Starlight. “And despite my size, I’m pretty sure I could take you on.”

“I don’t doubt it. But then I’d have to fill out a ton of paperwork, assuming I lived. And I hate paperwork.”

They reached an intersection, and Jack took a divergent path. She waved over her shoulder. “I’ll be back, Star. I really, really need a drink.”

The krogan did not even bother to try to stop her. He just turned in her direction and yelled out to her: “Try the donut shop on subsection fourteen!” He smiled at Starlight. “That’s the one great thing about being C-Sec. The donuts. I friggin love donuts. The hanar down there just don’t make them like the humans used to, though.”

“So there’s not a single human on the Citadel anymore.” Starlight already knew that, she just found it hard to believe. She had never had much in the way of dealing with the Alliance- -they were unpredictable and secretive- -and Jack actually knew precious little about the specifics of her homeworld or her species’ culture. On a personal level, though, she had never had much of a problem with them.

“Not that we know of. But you know how they are, they’re worse than vorcha. It’s a shame, really. I love humans. Especially the females. They’re just so tiny and adorable. And the males…their faces just have that look. Like they’re begging to be punched.”

Starlight sighed. She had hoped for a quiet day of surgery and listening to deep-space radio signals. Instead, she was talking to a krogan about the punchability of humans. She just hoped that whatever Garrus wanted, he explained it as quickly as possible.

The krogan led Starlight high into the Presidum Ring, to where a number of high-rent political offices were spaced out amongst perfectly cleaned street and manicured areal gardens. The air smelled of flowers, and an artificial sky provided ample light.

Outside the door, a heavily armored hanar was floating lazily. At first, Starlight found this strange- -but then realized that there was only one hanar that wore that much armor or carried that many guns.

“Si’y?”

The hanar shifted. “Friend Starlight Glimmer,” he said, nearly excitedly. Starlight approached and was unexpectedly wrapped in a crushing hug. “It has been a significant amount of time since this one has seen you!”

“Too- -tight!”

“Oops.” Si’y released her. “Apologies.”

“Not...a problem,” gasped Starlight, coughing into her hoof. “I thought you moved on to organized mercenary work?”

“This one has. It is currently guarding a VIP. Securing the perimeter right now.”

“You mean looking at the flanks of passing asari.”

“No. Surely not. This one is a professional.” Despite the inability for his speech-processor to convey it, Starlight realized that he was being sarcastic in the most deadpan way possible. She laughed, and while she did, noticed that one of his tentacles was missing.

“Si’y, your tentacle. What happened?

“It is…a long story.”

“Can we hurry this up?” said the krogan behind Starlight. “My shift ends in half an hour, and I don’t want to miss my soaps.”

“Right,” said Starlight, nodding as Si’y waved.
The door to the office that Si’y was guarding id open and Starlight was lead into a room that she knew was much more elaborate than anything that the Council would normally be willing to give Garrus. Almost as soon as she entered, though, she found herself staring into a pair of large blue eyes level to her own.

The white unicorn blinked, and Starlight immediately understood why Jack had come to dislike Garrus so much.

“Nope,” she said, turning around. “Whatever it is, I’m not doing it.”

“Starlight!” called Garrus, standing from the chair he was sitting on. “Wait!”

“Councilor,” said the white unicorn, her voice reeking of pretention with its unpleasant false accent. “How did- -who is this?”

“Ambassador, this is Starlight Glimmer. Starlight, this is Rarity of Equestria.”

“I don’t care! You lost me at ‘Equestria’.” Starlight glared at Garrus. “I knew you were a politician, Vakarian, but I didn’t think you could sink this low to work with THEM.”

“Excuse me,” said Rarity. “I believe we may have gotten off to a bad start. I didn’t realize that there were any ponies in Council space. You weren’t listed on any of our reports- -”

“Of course not,” snapped Starlight, approaching Rarity and forcing her to reverse nervously. “Because you don’t even consider me a pony!”

“I don’t- -I don’t understand, Star- -”

“DON’T use my name! What, you don’t recognize me?” Starlight pointed at the implants on her back. She had installed much of the more recent ones herself, but the older, deeper ones had not been her choice. “I’m just a Core!”

Rarity blinked. Her eyes flitted to Garrus nervously, and then back to Starlight. “Darling, you must be mistaken.”

“Mistaken?” growled Starlight.

“Yes. Cores…they’re not ponies. You couldn’t possibly be a Core. They can’t talk, or walk around. They can’t even leave their containment cells. It’s one of the very first things we learn in school- -”

Rarity suddenly choked as Starlight wrapped a band of biotic energy around her neck and lifted her into the air. Rarity struggled and choked, using her biotics to try to escape. Her ability was almost insignificant compared to Starlight’s, and it did nothing.

“You’re going to stand there and tell me that? After Equestria took TWENTY YEARS of my life?! TWENTY YEARS in a tube of amniotic gel, unable to move, to see, to THINK? While you stand here with a perfect body without a SINGLE implant sticking out of your flesh? I should tear of your horn and shove it down your throat!”

There was a click as an enormous pistol was placed against Starlight’s head. She glanced up at the krogan guard.

“Please don’t make me do it,” he said, calmly. “Just put down the ambassador.”

Starlight looked up at the krogan, momentarily considering her options. A side-effect of the neural implants she had accumulated was vastly enhanced reflexes, and she knew that she could crush the weapon in his hand before he even got a chance to fire. Likewise, she could easily snap Rarity’s neck. It would not even be hard, and as an Equestrian, she deserved it- -but instead, Starlight just took a deep breath and set the white pony back on the floor.

Rarity gasped and choked, grasping at her throat with her gloved hooves. Her hair and her elegant dress were now awry, and Starlight felt slightly better. Garrus nodded to the krogan, and he holstered his pistol.

“I like her already,” said a voice. Starlight looked up to see a small colt sitting next to where Garrus had been seated. He was a pony, but his body appeared translucent and faceted as though he had been carved out of living crystal.

“And you are?” asked Starlight.

“Jade wing, of the Crystal Empire.”

“You do realize that that’s a mare’s name, right?”

“No it isn’t!” He jumped down off his chair. The distance was such that Starlight wondered how he had gotten onto it in the first place. He looked at Rarity and smiled. “But anypony who detests the Equestrians as much as you do is clearly my friend.” He turned to Starlight. “So you are a Core, then?”

“I used to be. Not anymore.”

“Terribly archaic technology, isn’t it? With all their resources, the Equestrians still cling to technology over a millennium old.”

“And you don’t?”

Wing shook his head, smiling. “Such things are unnecessary when you embrace the love of the One True Princess.”

“Crystal- -heretic- -” wheezed Rarity. Garrus knelt beside her to help her. She brushed him away and cleared her throat. “I don’t know WHAT is wrong with you, but I do not approve of this! I- -I- -DISSAPROVE of this!”

“No one cares what you think, unicorn.”

“Actually, we do,” said Garrus. “She is the ambassador.” He stood up. “Starlight, I need your help.”

“Vakarian, I’ll do a lot of things. I HAVE done a lot of things. Some that I’m not proud of. A lot that I’m not proud of. But you know what Equestria did to me. You can let them do their own dirty work.”

“It’s not Equestria that needs your help,” said Wing. “It is us.”

“You?” said Starlight. “I’ve never met you. What could you possibly need from me?”

“It does not need to be you specifically, but you will be a good fit. My home is in trouble. The Crystal Galaxy will soon be under attack by the Equestrians- -”

“No it will not!” snapped Rarity. “You dirty little liar! If I had a bar of soap- -”

“Then perhaps you would not smell as though you fell into a vat of fermenting vanilla? Not that it matters. I came to this Citadel to ask for help, but the aliens refuse to help me. Not until the threat has been confirmed.”

“There is no threat,” said Rarity. “Garrus, I don’t know why you are putting up with this.”

“I don’t know why he puts up with YOU,” said Starlight. “You’re really annoying.”

“ANNOYING?!”

“Rarity,” said Garrus. “Calm down.” He put his hand on her head, and she blushed profusely. Garrus directed his attention at Starlight. “Starlight, why don’t you come with me?”

Starlight hesitated as Garrus walked to the door, waving away the krogan guard. She considered just teleporting herself to Jack’s location and leaving, but decided to go with him.

“What do you want?” she asked as they walked into the hallway outside to an area overlooking the Presidium gardens far below. It was late evening, and the artificially projected sky overhead was dimming with an impressive but subtle synthetic sunset. “Really. What do you want from me?”

“It’s simple,” said Garrus. “Well…no. No it isn’t. But your job would be simple. I just want you to go to the Crystal Galaxy. Wing says that there is an impending threat, and I don’t know if I believe him. I want you to see if there really is a threat, and see if they really do want our help. It’s not a complicated mission. Just a courier run.”

Phrased like that, it sounded much better. Starlight was just annoyed that Garrus had not phrased it like that from the start. “And you would give me what I need? Just for that?”

“I didn’t say the crystal ponies would be happy to see you.”

“You do realize I’ll just use the implant to attack Equestria, right?”

“I didn’t hear that,” said Garrus. “And, frankly, I’m afraid to think about what the salarians would do if they got their damp little fingers on it. It’s better for everyone if it is ‘destroyed’.”

“You really are turning into a Councilor, aren’t you?”

Garrus smiled- -or shifted his face in a way that was as close to a smile as turian anatomy could get. He leaned over the railing and looked down at the manicured artificial forest below. “Maybe I am.”

“It definitely sounds like something I can do, though.”

“So you’ll take the job?”

Starlight nodded. “I wasn’t doing anything anyway.”

Garrus pushed back from the railing. “Great. Come on.”

“To where?”

“There’s something I want you to take with you.”

The sound of gunfire filled the air as Garrus led Starlight into a dimly lit room in one of the lower areas of the Citadel. It was certainly not an abandoned room; in fact, it looked professional and military despite being completely empty. As far as Starlight could tell, access was almost completely restricted. Garrus, of course, was a Councilor. Nothing was out of his reach.

He led Starlight further into the suite to what appeared to be a firing range. Standing at it was the area’s only occupant: a slim female turian unloading projectile after projectile into a target at the farthest setting with a Spectre pistol that looked almost oversized in her small, three-fingered hands.

Garrus paused and allowed the other turian to finish. She ejected the used thermal clip from the gun, grabbing it as it flew out and dropping it into a bucket beside her. She set the gun down beside her, and the target retracted. Starlight saw that every shot she had taken had impacted the exact same spot.

The turian turned around, and Starlight saw that both her eyes were slightly luminescent prosthetics. She promptly saluted.

“Councilor Vakarian!”

“At ease, Spectre.”

The turian relaxed, and she looked down at Starlight. “What is she doing here? This room is off-limits to non-Spectres.”

“This is Starlight Glimmer. You’re going to be accompanying her on a mission.”

Starlight and the turian spectre both looked at Garrus. “WHAT?” they demanded in unison.

“You didn’t say that I would have to take one of your grunts,” said Staright. “That wasn’t part of our deal.”

“And I’m not going to babysit some quadruped mercenary. Councilor, with all due respect, you know I’m better than this.”

“Starlight, meet Beri Tyros,” sighed Garrus. “The youngest Spectre in turian history. And one who reports to the Council. Which I’m on.”

Starlight snickered. “You’re name’s Berry? That’s adorable.”

“Tyros,” snapped the female turian. “My name is TYROS. And at least my name is not a florid spacefaring reference. Were your parents hippies?”

Starlight looked up at Garrus. “She’s too green. I’m not working with her.”

“Her record is extensive and her performance excellent,” said Garrus. “More or less. And trust me, you’re going to need a crew if you’re going into hostile space.”

“I don’t need a crew.”

“No, you do.” Garrus pointed to the extensive scars on the right side of his face. “When you work alone, there’s nobody to pick you up when you finally get knocked down. What if Jack gets shot? Or you? You need someone to watch your back. You can pick whoever you want, but I NEED a Council presence. And Tyros needs the experience.”

“The experience I need is in the Perseus Veil. Send a krogan guard.”

“Nope. I’m sending you. Unless you’d like a desk job, maybe? Valena could certainly use someone to get her tea in the mornings.” His expression hardened. “And if I were any other turian, I would have just knocked you so far down in rank you would never climb your up past private. You’re not a salarian, Tyros. I may not be a military commander, not really, and I’m the last one who should be telling you this, but if you want to keep that Spectre badge you need to respect the chain of command.”

Tyros stiffened. “Yes, sir.”

“Now. If you will excuse me, I have to deal with a diplomatic incident concerning the Equestrian ambassador. Tryos, get your stuff, choose your guns, and don’t kill the pony.”

Garrus swiveled and left the room as quickly as possible. Starlight and Tyros were left looking at each other.

“Buck,” said Starlight. “I did NOT want to have to deal with this. A simple mission, he tells me. Crap crap crap.”

“I don’t like it either,” said Tyros, “but you should consider yourself fortunate. I’m the best turian Spectre available. Perhaps even the best since Saren.”

“I don’t care if you’re Johnathan Shepard. I don’t want a turian sidekick…or, in your case, most of a turian sidekick.”

Tyros’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m a pony. A Core. I’m not nearly as limited as your kind. I scanned you the moment I came in here. The arms, legs, almost all of your internal organs. Very little of you is organic, isn’t it?”

For the first time, Starlight saw Tyros smile. “It is rare that someone notices.”

“What I noticed is that those aren’t all turian systems. I know technology. Asari, salarian, geth…you even have several synth parts in you.”

“I’m stronger, faster, and more durable than a fully organic turian. The greatest Spectre in history was a cyborg too. You can’t be the best with the default settings.” She glared at Starlight. “Will that be a problem?”

“For me, no. I don’t care. Just as long as you stay out of my way.”

The Citadel itself was actually somewhat pretty. Starlight would never have admitted it to anyone, but she actually rather liked it. There were of course the inevitable stares of passerbys, but the air was clean and warm and the sights were impressive. In was a welcome change from having to constantly project and command a starship. There was a strange feeling, though, that she could not shake. It was as though while flying through space had become easier, walking had become more difficult.

Starlight rubbed the back of her head. Amongst the Equestrian ports was yet another scar, this one fresh. While Beri had been preparing her various unnecessary weapons, Starlight had stopped to install her most recent acquisition. The pain had been intense- -it always was- -but the connection to her brain had been a success. The world seemed to be moving in slow-motion, and her tech was more responsive with far greater capacity than it ever had been.

Beri was waiting outside with a fresh suit of heavy armor that covered her robotic limbs in thick, pastel-pink fabric.

“Really, Berry?” said Starlight. “Pink?”

“My name is not ‘Berry’. And it’s the only color that turian heavy armor comes in.”

“Do you even need armor? Most of you is plastic and steel.”

“Yes. Expensive plastic and steel.” Tyros fell into step with Starlight. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“What would you rather be doing?”

“How about fighting baterian pirates? Or investigating secret plots and rooting out Alliance spies? You know, things that are actually important.”

“Then why don’t you go do that? You’re a Spectre.”

“I…don’t have a ship.”

Starlight blinked. “Seriously?”

Tyros glared at Starlight. “Not all of us our independently wealthy. And with the budget cuts, well…” She trailed off. “And yes, I did check your accounts,” she said. “ALL of them. Baterain financial unions, volus off-world banks, deep-encrypted blackline accounts. Either you’re paranoid, or you’re into some deep territory.”

“Impressive,” said Starlight. That was actually a lie; her tech-connection had alerted her to Tyros’s inquiries and she had managed to hide all but the most pedestrian accounts. There was no point in having Beri knowing about just how much money Starlight had accumulated in five years- -or how she had managed to get it. Funding an oncoming revolution was not cheap.

Across the way, leaning on the wall outside of a café, Starlight spied Jack. She had, just as Starlight had expected, taken off her shirt and was now glaring at anyone walking past her. Her body was covered in tattoos, but Starlight could tell that she was experiencing the effects of aging. While Starlight was not sure how long ponies normally lived, she knew that humans had comparably short lifespans. Jack had already used up at least half of her time.

“Jack!” Starlight walked over to her friend.

“I am so drunk right now,” said Jack, noticing Starlight. “Also, I may have blown a few holes in the bar. And a salarian. Just thought you should know.” Her silver eyes shifted to Tyros. “And where did you find this strawberry? Are you cheating on me, Star?”

Starlight groaned. “Garrus assigned her to me.”

Jack frowned. “So you took the job.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re Jaqueline Naught,” said Tyros, her hand slowly moving to one of her many guns. “Do you even know how many systems you’re wanted in?”

“No. Nor do I care.”

“Jack and I work together,” said Starlight.

“Seriously? You work with HER? You do realize she once crashed a hanar space station into a moon, right? Not to mention the fact that humans are BANNED from the Citadel.”

“Yes. Petty vandalism. And public nudity. I know. I also know that she just about the only person I trust. And if you don’t like it, go cry to Vakarian.”

“Just try to pull that gun,” said Jack. “Go ahead.”

For a moment, Starlight through that Beri would actually try it- -but instead, she just groaned and turned away quickly. “The things I do honor,” she grumbled.

“Star,” said Jack once Beri was out of earshot. “What exactly did you agree to do? I have a bad feeling about her.”

“Yeah. I know. Basically, I agreed to run a fact-finding mission. Into hostile space.”

“Crap. But that’s just about par for the course for us.”

“Vakarian seems to think we should acquire a crew.”

“That depends on how hostile you think this is going to get.”

“I don’t know. I have no idea what to expect.”

Jack looked at Tyros, who seemed to be mumbling angrily to herself. “We could get some mercenaries.”

“No,” said Starlight, firmly. “The Council has decided to ally themselves with Equestria. I don’t want somebody who will stab me in the back once we get out of distress signal range. It’s bad enough having HER. I need someone who, you know, actually wants me to survive this.”

“You already have somebody in mind?”

“A few.”

“Are you coming or not?” snapped Beri. “You may not realize it, but I have things to do that don’t involve dealing with you two. Or are you two going to start snogging and force me to watch?”

“Can I kill her?” asked Jack.

“Not yet,” said Starlight. “Let’s just go along with it. For now.”

Garrus and the crystal pony were already waiting outside the hanger when Starlight returned.

“What?” she said.

“You are going to need this,” said the crystal pony. He produced a small and narrow octahedral crystal.

“What is it?”

“My ship’s central computer. It contains the IFF necessary to link your relay system to ours, as well as internal codes that will probably prevent my people from destroying you on sight.”

“Probably?” said Jack.

“You’re not coming?” said Starlight.

Wing shook his head. “They won’t let me leave.”

“In case something goes wrong, we need him here,” said Garrus. “As collateral.”

“I shall also hold them to their promise.”

Starlight levitated the crystal out of Wing’s hoof. It was surprisingly heavy, and she could feel that despite looking like a semi-transparent piece of pinkish quartz it was actually infinitely complex.”

“And you expect her to just be able to read that?” said Beri.

“I will manage,” said Starlight. “Thank you.”

“After you get outside our galaxy, you’re not going to have direct contact with us,” noted Garrus. “So collect whatever you need, get there, and get back as quick as you can.”

“I know what I’m doing,” said Starlight, pocketing the crystal. “Just remember to keep up your part of the bargain.”

She walked past Garrus and into the hanger. As before, it was empty.

“Shouldn’t there be a ship in here?” said Beri, looking around.

Jack grabbed Beri roughly by the shoulder. “Hey!”

“Stand here,” said Jack, pointing. “And don’t move.”

“I don’t understand what that’s supposed to do,” said Beri, following the order regardless. Jack walked across the hanger to a different spot and nodded to Starlight. Starlight nodded back, and concentrated. Her mind linked to her numerous implants, and she could feel her body vibrating with biotic energy as tech algorithms began to pour through her mind and into her omnitools.

Blue light sprung around her, followed by rapidly hard-light tech projections. She felt her spine link to the constructs, interfacing her Equestrian Core implants to the machine of her own creation. In less than five seconds, she summoned a ship around herself and her two companions.

Once the structure was complete and validated, Starlight forced her biotic energy through the implants and tech systems on her back. She felt herself- -now part of the ship around her- -rise from the floor. The hanger door opened, but Starlight no longer needed it. Instead of flying into space, she brought up the starchart and identified the dimensional coordinates of her destination. Focusing on that distant point in space, she generated a singularity around herself- -and vanished as she teleported across the galaxy.

Ever since humans had been exiled from the Citadel, many of the restaurants had gone downhill quickly- -but that did not stop one particular krogan C-Sec officer from stopping after his shift to gorge himself on tasty fried dough. He was so preoccupied with his mountain of donuts that he almost did not notice as asari approached his table and took a seat across from him. Of course, once he looked up, he was glad he did. She was a pale turquoise color with a beaming smile.

“Hey there,” she said.

“Hi,” said the krogan, wiping away Boston crème from his mouth. He did not know what kind of an animal a ‘Boston’ was, but its cream was delicious.

The asari looked at the donuts. “Wow. You really like those, don’t you?”

“No. C-Sec pays me to do this,” said the krogan, sarcastically. “I love donuts. They’re not as good as the ones the humans used to make, though. Which means I have to eat at least twice as many.”

“Any particular flavor?”

“Every flavor. Except plain. I mean, who eats plain donuts? Wait. Probably a salarian.” He paused. “I wonder if they could make a salarian flavored donut…”

The asari giggled, and the krogan smiled. His day was going much better than he had expected it would. Asari were not as attractive as humans, but when paired with donuts, they were indeed quite excellent. “You know,” she said, “I have something else you might like.”

“What?” said the krogan, smiling.

“Have you ever heard of bacon?”

The krogan’s eyes widened. “You have bacon? Like, real, really real bacon? I LOVE bacon!”

The asari smiled, and the krogan could not help but shiver. He was not sure why, but a strange and nameless feeling had suddenly come over him. Something was wrong, and he could tell on an instinctual level. Perhaps it had something to do with the way this particular asari smelled: like ozone and decaying meat.

“Well, how would you like to try some delicious…ocean bacon?”

The krogan’s eyes suddenly went blank. He jerked and convulsed slightly as the chip implanted deep within his brain overwrote his conscious functions, taking control of his nervous system. He dropped the donut he was holding and his mouth fell open. The donut shop was crowded, though, and no one seemed to notice his distress.

Further disguising the incident was the way the asari leaned over the table, kissing the foaming and mostly inert krogan. As she did, the holographic coating covering her body momentarily shifted, revealing the gray-skinned individual beneath the mask.

She leaned back, and the krogan spoke in a weak monotone.

“Awaiting orders,” he said.

The “asari” smiled, and spoke in a voice that was much lower and raspier than the falsetto she had used before. “I want you to tell me exactly what Garrus said to that pony. Every. Last. Detail.”

Garrus closed the door to his suite in the apartment that he shared with Falare. It was not unusual for him to come home to find her reading in the common room. Now, though, it was far too late at night. The Citadel’s night-cycle was nearly half finished. Almost all of the last five hours had been spent with the most high-grade diplomatic persuasion available just to calm Rarity down. She had eventually retired to her ship, but not before wearing every single one of Garrus’s nerves to their very bottom and, somehow, getting him to agree to take her to dinner.

He sighed and put his forehead against the door. His head was pounding, which was not a good sign. Humans, with their complex sinuses and facial muscles, often developed headaches- -but turians did not. Garrus was not sure if his advancing age was to blame, or if the fault rest squarely on the narrow and well-dressed shoulders of a particular white unicorn.

Eventually, he turned away and made his way deeper into the suite. Normally when he came home the first thing he would do was change out of the uncomfortable Councilor uniform he was forced to wear and put on something in a more pleasant shade of blue. Sometimes he would even walk around completely naked if Falere was away on business. On this night, though, he went straight for the turian brandy. He poured himself half a glass, and, after a moment of consideration, filled the glass. Then, remembering that he had an early morning scheduled with the ambassador, he just took the whole bottle.

The suite was not small. In fact, it was much more luxurious than the cramped batteries he was used to inhabiting. The rent was incredible- -or would have been, if Councilors had to worry about that sort of thing. Technically, he could even have had a much larger residence higher up in the Presidium Ring. Instead, though, he had chosen to live with Falere, mostly because he had trouble dealing with the loneliness that came from his position. Often, if he was left alone, he would find himself spending every minute wishing he was back on the Normandy with his friends.

He entered a deeper room, intending to drink himself into unconsciousness. The room was dark, save for the light that came in through his window from the Serpent Nebula and the silently passing ships’ running lights and the glow of his aquarium where one very old Khar’shan snapping eel looked through the glass expectantly.

As Garrus put down his alcohol and went to feed his fish, he heard a click as the locks to his room suddenly snapped closed. Across the room, without any intervention, the holographic receiver suddenly flickered to life. Blue specks of light swarmed up from the projector, silently resolving into a complex and semi-abstract representation of something like a floating arthropod with two enormous, glowing blue eyes.

“You know, you could at least let me feed the eel,” said Garrus, pressing the button to dispense its food. “You know how they get when you don’t feed them.”

“You sent the pony,” said the Benefactor.

“It’s my prerogative. Why, you don’t approve?”

“I neither approve nor disapprove. I trust your judgement.”

“Do you? Sometimes I’m not so sure.”

The Benefactor continued to stare from across the room, barely lighting the shadows surrounding the projection alcove. “I do, Garrus. You know I always have.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I begin to grow concerned when any of my mass relays are destroyed.”

“The ponies do have a tendency to do that.”

“It is not a joke. As you know, we are always watching. And we saw what came through.”

“The crystal pony claims that it was Equestrian. Rarity claims it doesn’t even exist.”

“It does. And it is not pony. At least…”

Garrus’s gaze sharpened. “At least what?”

“I am not sure.”

“That’s not like you.”

“I know. And that is why I am concerned. As such, I will be launching an inquiry of my own.”

“It’s probably halfway to the Crystal Galaxy by now. Even you can’t go that fast or far.”

“You underestimate how far my influence reaches. It…sometimes it even frightens me, just how far we reach…”

Garrus took a long sip from his brandy. “Do you ever think you made the wrong choice?”

The Benefactor did not answer that question. He simply watched, and then his hologram slowly faded away. Garrus watched him go, and then listened for the locks on his door to open. He wished that Falere were awake, so that he could talk to her- -but instead, he just began to drink straight from his bottle.

Chapter 6: Ship of Failure

Through the narrow and scratched window, a probe was visible emerging from the base of the vessel and floating slowly into the asteroid field immediately outside, manipulated by an extension of blue energy. Once it was positioned amongst the asteroids, the blue energy released it and the scanning process began.

Scootaloo watched it go. Seeing it was actually quite boring, but this had rapidly become the most interesting part of her job. As the probe relayed information back to the ship’s internal systems, Scootaloo checked the translucent blue panels of magic that relayed information about their position.

“Sassa!” she said, “we’re drifting eight degrees to port! Are you just going to sit there or are you going to beach us on an asteroid?”

The cyan-colored hemsmare jerked awake, pulling her head off her control panel. It had left a large red mark on her forehead. “Huh? What? Where am I? Oh.” She looked around and yawned. “It’s fine. A little drift is normal…” She lifted her forelegs and put them across the controls, laying back down.

Scootaloo sighed, resisting the urge throw Sassaflash off of her threadbare surplus chair. Instead, she opened a separate window at the side of her captain’s chair and took control of the helm herself. It was not complicated, but it was not her job.

Her other panel indicated that data was coming back from the probe. A Pegasus mare approached Scootaloo’s right side. She was pure white, save for her deep red eyes and her luxurious mane and tail, both of which had been dyed a matching color.

“The report, Wintry?”

“The field contains high concentrations of platinum, palladium, iridium, and boron,” she stated. “Among other things. Selenium and iron levels are low. Interestingly, we are also detecting the partial wreckage of a vessel.”

“Anything recent?”

Wintrygust shook her head. “Age estimates put it at over four hundred years old. The asteroids have damaged it badly. Unfortunately, there is little worth salvaging.”

“So this one is useless too.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Scootaloo sighed. “Well, raise the beacon and send the report to the survey database. Onto the next one, I guess.”

“Yes, Captain,” said Wintrygust, smiling. “Don’t worry, Captain. I’m sure we’ll find plenty of resources in the next one.”

“It’s not like we get paid more if we do,” noted Sassaflash from her half-asleep stupor.

“You’re not going to get paid at all if you don’t start doing your job,” said Scootaloo.

“I am doing my job. I’m at the helm, aren’t I?” She adjusted herself, and then started snoring softly.

Scootaloo groaned and started to maneuver the vessel out of the asteroid field. Behind her, Wintrygust walked along the row of control stations that sat behind Scootaloo, activating and validating the beacon’s signal. Despite the tiny amount of space between those panels, they were meant to be commanded by several ponies. There were even rusted mounts for their chairs in the floor. As a breeder, though, Wintrygust was able and happy to run all of them on her own.

Suddenly, something beeped. Scootaloo instinctively held her breath, not knowing if that was a normal beep or an “atmosphere venting” beep like the week prior. She looked over her shoulder and saw Wintrygust looking at the panel, surprised.

“What is it, Wintry?”

“A priority transmission. On a diplomatic channel.”

“A diplomatic channel? Why would anypony want to talk to us?”

“Should I ignore it, then?”

“No. Open it up. Probably a wrong number.”

Wintrygust nodded, activating the system. In the front left area of the tightly packed bridge, a projection apparatus smoked and hummed to life, projecting a blue hologram. Initially, it appeared as a repeating image of a stallion prancing in socks.

“Ah, crap, Sassa!” cried Scootaloo, turning away as Wintrygust giggled and covered her mouth. “Is that what you do on the third shift?”

Sassaflash snorted herself awake. “Huh? Oh. Caramel. I think he’s cute. Oh. Wait. You’re not supposed to see that.” She slapped her hoof against her panel several times until she hit the right button, deactivating her recording. Scootaloo was glad that she had cut Sassaflash’s helm control, or their ship probably would just have jumped to FTL speed as she fumbled for the off switch.

The hologram was now replaced with one representing a transmission. It rapidly resolved, but instead of forming a translucent stallion it resolved into a lanky unicorn with a terribly uncomfortable looking dress.

Scootaloo blinked and leaned forward sharply. “Sweetie Belle?”

Sweetie Belle’s translucent and monochrome holographic eyes turned to Scootaloo, her image flickering slightly. She smiled, but then looked around the bridge and stuck her tongue out in disgust.

“Scootaloo, this is the ship they gave you?”

“Yeah,” admitted Scootaloo. “You don’t like the RENS Failure?”

“It isn’t called that. Is it?”

“No, but it might as well be. It doesn’t actually have a real name.”

“What happened to the Rainbow Dash?”

“Decommissioned and shoved into the sun. The name got shifted to a new battlefrigate.”

“Harsh.”

“Why are you here, Sweetie Belle?”

“Is it wrong to want to talk to my second-best friend in the whole galaxy?”

“It is when you’re using a priority diplomatic channel. Where did you even get access to it?”

“I’m borrowing my sister’s.”

“DON’T do that. Trust me on this, Sweetie. I’ve tried. It never ends well.”

“Well, I didn’t know how else to reach you.”

“We have a communication relay uplink,” explained Wintrygust.

Sweetie Belle blinked, surprised by Wintrygust’s presence. “Scootaloo, when did you get a breeder?”

“I didn’t ‘get’ her. She’s part of my crew.”

“I like what you did with her hair. But I thought you weren’t supposed to color them like that.”

“The Captain gives me leeway to change my own colors,” said Wintrygust with uncharacteristic defensiveness, however slight it might have been.

“It’s just…weird. But that’s not why I called.” Sweetie Belle leaned in closer to the camera she was using as though that would actually get her closer to Scootaloo instead of enlarging and distorting her hologram. “I just got word that something big is going down. I’m at the Citadel right now- -you know, the alien one?”

“I’ve been there,” said Scootaloo. “I almost watched Rainbow Dash blow it up.” Still, Scootaloo was surprised. She had not been especially familiar with current events in Equestria, but she had heard that there were motions a few years back to begin establishing diplomatic relations with the Council. After what had happened five years ago, though, Scootaloo had never assumed that it would work out.

“Oh. I forgot. Hey, do you think it’s weird that even though we’re from different galaxies, everypony here speaks the same language?”

Scootaloo had actually never thought about that before. “Is that what you came to ask? I’m not a linguist.”

“It’s not that! Something big is happening! There’s a crystal pony here- -”

“Crystal pony?” said Sassaflash, waking up with a start and then immediately falling asleep with her head lolling back over the edge of her chair. Scootaloo had roughly the same reaction internally, but did not show it as obviously.

“There’s an actually crystal pony? There?” said Scootaloo.

“Yeah. I’ve never seen one. He’s actually not that bad looking. But he says some kind of big ship is headed for his galaxy. Rarity says he thinks it’s Equestrian, but…”

“With Rainbow Dash as Fleet Commander, I don’t doubt that,” said Scootaloo coldly.

“But Rarity knows Rainbow Dash. Scootaloo, I think this is something completely different. Call it mare’s intuition.”

“Sweetie, I’m a mare too. And my intuition isn’t saying anything.”

“Oh. Sorry, sometimes I forget. The short hair and all. But I really think you should know about this…imagine what Rainbow Dash would think if you went and caught up with this thing? If you were the first to get information on it? It might- -”

Scootaloo held up a hoof, silencing Sweetie Belle. “No. Just, no,” she said. “I tried that once. Almost exactly that. And do you know what happened? It ended up destroying my relationship with my so-called ‘sister’ and torpedoed my career.”

“But you didn’t even get demoted- -”

“I mutinied and took control of the Fleet and directly threatened to destroy Tertiary Commander Lightning Dust and her entire crew. She has repeatedly submitted court-martialing proposals. The only reason Rainbow Dash didn’t take my rank is because of how bad it would make her look if her sister got demoted. So they put me here, and I’m going to survey space garbage until the day I die.”

“The way I heard it, you averted a war.”

“Which is treason to Rainbow Dash,” said Scootaloo, darkly. “Sweetie Belle…thank you for telling me, but I’m not doing that again. I just…I don’t care enough anymore. I’m done. This is my life now.”

“Scootaloo…”

“Goodbye, Sweetie Belle. Don’t call on this channel again.”

“But- -”

Scootaloo motioned for Wintrygust to cut the link. Wintrygust nodded and obeyed, causing Sweetie-Belle’s hologram to suddenly dissipate.

“That was a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“I just didn’t want her to get in trouble for using the channel. And besides, that dress…” Scootaloo shifted uncomfortably.

“Ah. I see.”

“We’re not changing the mission, though.” Scootaloo slid out of her chair. “We’re going to keep doing what we’re doing.”

“Are you sure that’s really what you want to do?”

“I don’t really want to do anything anymore. But this is what we WILL be doing.” Scootaloo started toward the door. “Do you mind watching the bridge for me? Before we start to the next site, I want to check on Trixie.”

“Of course, Captain.” She paused, and then smiled. “And…if I might say…It’s really kind what you do for her. It wouldn’t even occur to most ponies to go through that much trouble for a Core. Or for…one of my kind.”

“Both of you are part of my crew, and both of you deserve no less.”

Scootaloo left the bridge, the door hissing partially closed behind her before once again jamming. Like everything else on this ship, it barely worked. Scootaloo sighed, making a mental note that she would have to repair it. Then she continued down the long, stained hallway.

This ship- -technically called CN12-88B, but colloquially referred to as the RENS Failure- -was actually quite large, despite the size of its tiny bridge. When it had actually been modern close to ninety years earlier, it had been a freighter. From the smell of it, Scootaloo surmised that the last thing it had been carrying was tomatoes, and that more than a few of them had fermented beneath the deck plating. The ship was hideously non-aerodynamic, consisting of three identical decks filled with vacuous, empty cargo holds. Some of these had been retrofitted into crew quarters or storage and launching bays for the probes, but most were empty. That was actually critical; during the conversion of the old freighter into a naval ship, the decrepit engine module had been replaced with a modern one. The modern engine, however, was significantly smaller than a ship this size would normally require. It worked well with the cargo-holds empty- -which they always were- -even if handling on such a wide inertial load in tight corners was almost impossible.

The ship was only marginally habitable. As Scootaloo walked along the retrofitted gravity plating that lined the hallways, she heard the normally roaring ventilation system hitch and shut down. She paused, slamming her hoof against the wall where she knew the unusually large ducts were. The system clicked on for a moment, belching hot air from one of the dust-caked vents, and then coughed and died again.

“Crap,” said scootaloo. “Not again…”

Near her, one of the cargo bay doors was pulled open. A white Pegasus floated in from the dark room beyond, landing gracefully on the gravity plating. She checked a clipboard held under her wing, and then tucked it away.

“Blossomforth,” said Scootaloo, approaching the taller pony.

“Captain!” Blossomforth stiffened and saluted.

“Um…at ease, ensign.”

Blossomforth immediately shifted to an only mildly more comfortable position. Scootaloo had to look up to address her. Even though Blossomforth was only a few years older than Scootaloo, she was significantly taller. Looking at her was not exactly easy, and not only because Scootaloo had to look up. Despite having a coat color identical to Wintrygust’s, Blossomforth had garishly clashing green and pink hair and intense blue eyes. This combined with a white body- -a rarity among Pegasi- -made for quite a combination.

“Can you work on repairing the ventilation system?” asked Scootaloo.

Blossomforth blinked. Scootaloo could see the ever-present contempt in her expression grow. “I’m not a mechanic, Captain.”

“No, but we’re short staffed. I need Wintry on the bridge, and if I give this job to Sassa, it’ll never get done. That and I doubt she even knows how to work a toaster, let alone fix a duct motor.”

“I really think the breeder would be a better choice for this task.”

Scootaloo’s expression hardened. “I didn’t ask her to do this. I asked YOU. And her name is ‘Wintrygust’. I would recommend that you use it.”

“Y- -yes, Captain.”

The ventilation system suddenly clanged loudly, as though something large were moving through it. Scootaloo and Blossomforth watched the ceiling, following the sound with their eyes before it suddenly disappeared.

Blossomforth’s eyes were wide. “I swear to Celestia that we have a clingon,” she said, shaking her head.

“We can’t. This ship was stored in vacuum for thirty years. And fumigated. Twice.”

“Well, that clearly worked on the cockroaches.” She extended one of her wings. “I think they eat pieces of me while I’m sleeping…”

“I know it’s bad,” said Scootaloo. “I’ve put in a recommendation to get you promoted out, but…you know how it is.”

Blossmoforth’s eyes narrowed. “Of course you did. With all due respect, Captain, I don’t know how much your recommendation is actually worth.”

Scootaloo frowned. “Just fix the vents. And don’t be late for dinner. It’s Wintry’s turn to cook, and you know she’s the only one that makes anything edible. Unless you want Sassa and Heart to eat it all again.”

“Finally, a job actually suited for her,” mumbled Blossomforth as she passed Scootaloo.

Scootaloo ignored that last comment. It was no secret that Blossomforth did not like Wintrygust, and in a way, Scootaloo understood. Blossomforth was actually not a bad worker. Her conduct was always exemplary and her work was excellent. Even her record had no indications of anything amiss. Yet, somehow, she had never once been promoted above the most basic naval rank. That, and, somehow, she had been assigned to the Failure. Scootaloo was not sure why, but she understood why Blossomforth always seemed so angry. She was qualified to work on much more significant vessels at a much higher rank.

Still, interactions with Blossomforth often left Scootaloo in a foul mood. She tried to ignore it as she made her way to the technical level.

Below the levels of empty cargo rooms sat a region where, essentially, a large section of the ship had been cut out and a new one welded into place. This one contained the engine and the Core housing, both tightly packed tightly and hardwired into the ship’s systems by a number of messy cables and conduits.

The center of this area was crowded with machinery, but also with a number of unusual items. A narrow desk had been placed between the central gravity conversion breaker and the computational cooling stacks, and a bookshelf had been placed against an obsolete but still marginally functional power distribution relay. A patched but very comfortable chair sat between them in the center of what little space was left.

Scootaloo edged around the chair and the table, noticing that an old and dog-eared copy and old Daring Do book was sitting on the desk next to a rebuilt control consul displaying a blue-tinted holographic image of a landscape on Equestria Prime.

In the center of the room, as with most ship cores, there was a large tube in the center. Scootaloo stood up on her hind legs to access the manual controls. She pulled a large handle to draw back the blast-shield surrounding the hollow glass cylinder in the center of the tube. It rose slowly, revealing the pale yellowish fluid within and the thin blue unicorn floating within it, her spine and skull linked to the ship’s systems by long, snaking cables.

She appeared to be sleeping, but Scootaloo knew better than that. She was unconscious, yes, but not truly asleep. Carefully, Scootaloo activated the manual release. The liquid in the tube shifted suddenly, causing the pony’s short white mane to swirl with the sudden jets of bubbles. Within a few seconds, the liquid drained completely and the pony was lowered through the base of the apparatus onto a platform below.

Scootaloo approached her, putting a hoof on the pony’s shoulder.

“Trixie?” she said.

Trixie stirred, and looked up at Scootaloo. Her face was gaunt and her eyes cloudy, but she still smiled.

“Scootaloo,” she said, slowly rising to her feet and brushing off some of the rapidly drying amniotic fluid that still covered her. “Where…where are we?”

“Space,” said Scootaloo, simply. “We finished the last mission quicker than normal. I wanted to give you a chance to come out before we started off again.”

“Oh,” said Trixie, smiling. She stepped forward to where a towel was hanging near the housing, the cables that still penetrated her body and linked her to the ship trailing behind her. She picked up the towel and dried herself off. She used her magic to levitate it, but Scootaloo could still not help but notice how much she shook when she walked, or how horribly thin she was, or the thin trickles of blood from her eyes that she tried to hide.

“Trixie, are you okay?” asked Scootaloo.

Trixie grinned. “Why would the Great and Powerful Trixie be anything LESS than fine?” she said with characteristic bravado, rolling the ‘r’ in her name with some difficulty. “This new ship is certainly not up to my usual standards, but I would say that my extensive ability is far more than adequate to power it.”

Scootaloo smiled. “You’ve been doing great. I just wish the channeling systems were better. I know that’s hard on you.”

“Not at all! It is only a shame that this vessel cannot feel the full might of Trixie!” Trixie raised her hoof dramatically, but then clapped it over her mouth to suppress a cough.

“Trixie?”

“Trixie is…tired,” said Trixie after some consideration. “Yeah…I think I’ll read for a bit and then…I’ll go back to sleep…”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” said Scootaloo.

“I wish that were true.”

Scootaloo sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just…”

Trixie wrapped Scootaloo in a hug, and Scootaloo felt her breath catch when she realized just how weak Trixie had become. She also for a brief moment though she felt several droplets of something wet fall to her neck just above her uniform collar.

“It’s okay,” said Trixie. “It’s okay.” She released Scootaloo and limped to her chair.

“Do you want me to bring you any food?” asked Scootaloo. “Wintry is making dinner tonight, so you know it’ll be good.”

Trixie smiled. “Of course. The Great and Powerful Trixie cannot be expected to operate this ship without adequate sustenance.”

They both smiled, even if the charade ran hollow. Trixie had not been able to keep down solid food in months.

Scootaloo started to pull up a folding chair to sit with Trixie, as she did sometimes. They sometimes talked, but not always. Usually they would just be together, often while Trixie read. On the bad days, Trixie would sometimes have to ask Scootaloo to help her when the cataracts obscured her vision. On the very bad days, sometimes Scootaloo would have to read the books out loud.

Before she could even sit down, though, a static voice came through Scootaloo’s earpiece.

“Captain?” said Wintrygust. “It appears that Blossomforth has gotten stuck in a vent again. She is apparently panicking, claiming that she saw a clingon. Again. She’s really jammed in there. I could use your help on this.”

“You left Sassa alone on the bridge?”

“She appears to be in a state of profound rest. And with Trixie disconnected, it is unlikely she can break anything too badly.”

“Okay. I’ll be up there right away.” Scootaloo turned to Trixie. “Trixie, I’m sorry. I have to unstick Blossomforth again.”

“It’s okay. I’m more than capable of entertaining myself on my own.” Trixie smiled. “Besides. There are some things that the Great and Powerful Trixie does not feel comfortable doing with you watching.”

“Eew, gross!” laughed Scootaloo, returning her chair to its original location. “I’ll be down later if your still up, with the food. Take as much time as you need.”

“Hopefully it is peanut-butter crackers…”

Scootaloo smiled, and was not sure why her eyes were so full of tears. She wiped them away and walked through the narrow hallway out of the engine room. Near the door, however, Scootaloo realized that she was not alone. A yellow unicorn was waiting in the shadows.

“Dr. Heart,” said Scootaloo. The unicorn smiled and stepped from where she had been waiting. Technically speaking, Lemon Heart was not part of Scootaloo’s crew. Normally only earth ponies and Pegasi were part of the Equestrian navy, and Heart’s uniform signified that she was not actually an officer but a scientific operative associated with the company that made Cores.

“Captiain,” she said. “We need to talk.”

“Not now,” said Scootaloo, pushing past the unicorn scientist. She immediately felt herself being slowed, though, as Heart’s magic grabbed her shoulder.

“Scootaloo,” said Heart. “You can’t put this conversation off. “I’m a specialist in geriatric Cores- -”

“Trixie isn’t ‘geriatric’,” hissed Scootaloo, hoping that they were out of earshot from Trixie. She resented the fact that Heart had used Scootaloo’s visits to Trixie as an ambush. “She’s barely twenty four.”

“Which means that she’s been a Core for over two decades. Scootaloo, they aren’t meant to last that long. Especially not ones like her.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that her magical capacity is marginal at best. Had it not been for the surgery, she probably would have lived life as an unspectacular unicorn.”

Scootaloo shivered. Many ponies truly seemed to believe the propaganda that the Equestrian government provided, that Cores were not really ponies, that they were born as parts of a machine meant to exist as FTL engines. Even the few who knew the truth at least pretended to believe- -but not Lemon Heart. She accepted the fact that Cores were made from ordinary unicorns taken from their families as children without a hint of remorse or empathy. Scootaloo found this nonchalance deeply disturbing.

“She should have burnt out years ago,” said Heart. “But, admittedly, she is stubborn. And proud. But that’s not enough to keep her alive. Her power output is dropping.” She looked Scootaloo in the eyes and had the audacity to smile. “Scootaloo, we need to seriously consider euthanasia.”

“Don’t you dare even suggest that on my ship.”

Heart frowned. “Do you think I’m implying that we should murder her? Look at her.” She pointed, and Scootaloo looked back to where Trixie was trying her best to read far on the other side of the room. “She cannot even be disconnected from the machinery anymore. Those cables are the only thing keeping her alive, and even then, only barely. You may not accept it, and she’ll never show it, but she’s in agony. Every second she is conscious is torture. Even in the core, she’s going to feel the pain. It would be a kindness.”

“No,” said Scootaloo. “Never. She’s my friend.”

“She is a part of machine,” corrected Heart. “And she is going to burn out soon.”

Scootaloo looked up at the unicorn. “And the instant she starts to go, I want you to contact me. No matter what I’m doing. Because I will take her out, disconnect her, and let her go like the pony she is. Not like an animal, not like a piece of equipment, and not alone in a vat of fluid.”

Scootaloo expected Heart to resist the decision, but the unicorn just shrugged. “Okay. It’s your choice. Her pain does not actually bother me. In fact, it provides even better data. I just wanted to point it out.” She turned toward the door, but then paused before turning back to Scootaloo. “Just remember. Once she’s dead, she belongs to ME. I want her horn and her spine. I need them for my work.”

She giggled slightly at the thought, and then pranced out the door.

“Sick buck,” whispered Scootaloo.

“Captain,” said Wintrygust over the intercom. “She’s gotten her leg behind her head- -somehow- -I don’t even know how this is possible. Could you please see if we have any butter?”

“I’m on my way,” said Scootaloo. She paused for a moment to look back at Trixie, and then walked out the door, closing it behind her.

During the day, it was easy for Scootaloo to dismiss the notion that there was a clingon dwelling in the ventilation system of the Failure. At night, though, as she lay in bed, sometimes it was not so easy. In the dark of the parsed and repurposed cargo bay, sometimes she would awake to see what she thought were the reflections of blue eyes staring at her through the dirty vents, or she would swear she heard the sound of a distant giggling.

This night was no different, and in the dim light of the room, she found herself looking up at the vents, wondering just what exactly might have been living in them, and what this ship had seen in its lifetime. She wondered just how many Cores had lived and died on this ship, and if at any time they knew that they had spent their entire lives doing nothing but hauling tomatoes. These were things she often wondered while lying on her back in bed.

Then, suddenly, Scootaloo cried out. She gripped her mattress tightly as her body spasmed and her mind went blank. She knew that the walls were thin, and that the others probably could hear her, but she could not help herself.

After what felt like several minutes, Scootaloo finally relaxed and laid back down. She was sweating and breathing hard. She looked down as Wintrygust’s head peeked out from beneath the sheets, her hair a mess and a smile on her face. She wiped her mouth with one of her hooves and then set her cheek against Scootaloo’s stomach. Scootaloo reached around the back of her neck and hugged her like that.

“Damn,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “Just…damn.”

“Your welcome,” said Wintry.

“Where…oh Celestia…where did you learn to do that?”

“A great many of us are taught it as part of our standard education. Rainbow Dash always preferred stallions, though, so I suppose I’m just a natural.”

Scootaloo let her mind regain composure for a moment, and Wintry pulled herself forward until she was hugging Scootaloo’s chest. She was surprisingly muscular and fit, but her coat was soft and she smelled nice.

“I’m just…I’m sorry,” said Scootaloo. “I know it’s wrong, I shouldn’t be forcing you do to this. It’s just, the pills, they’re hardly doing anything for me anymore and I just can’t stop thinking about…this…”

Wintry pulled herself closer to Sctootaloo. “You’re not forcing me to do anything. You didn’t even order me. You don’t have to. I enjoy it as much as you do. Because I love you.”

“Aww, Wintry…”

“And I know the first few estrus cycles are especially powerful. The pills sometimes don’t help the younger mares. You need another pony to help you with it.”

“Was it bad for you? When you started your cycle?”

Wintry’s smile faded. “I…I didn’t…”

Scootaloo Cringed. “Oh, Wintry. I’m so sorry.”

“No, no. It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t okay. Not even a little. What Rainbow Dash did to you- -”

Wintry shook her head. “It wasn’t Rainbow Dash’s fault. Buyers generally don’t want intact breeders, and the company doesn’t want to sell potential breeding stock. It’s just something we do when we’re young. It was always harder for our brothers, but we got through it together.” She smiled with no hint of darkness. “Besides. Not having gone through puberty means I get to keep my fillyish figure. And I suppose I’ll never die of ovarian cancer.”

As far as Scootaloo could tell, Wintrygust did not actually seem to mind what had been done to her or what she was. That was supposedly something that had been bred into commercially produced Pegasi, and extreme docility bordering on passivity. It made Scootaloo sick, though, to know what had been done to her friend.

“I just…I have to be honest,” said Scootaloo, turning toward Wintry. “I know how you feel, but- -”

Wintry shifted, curling against Scootaloo’s chest. Even though she was larger, she felt light. “I know,” she said. “You don’t need to tell me. I love you. You gave me my name. But to you I am just a friend. Your heart lies with another. Perhaps more than one other. And it is better that way.” She moved even closer to Scootaloo. “I like to dream, though. Is that wrong?”

Scootaloo did not answer. Instead, she turned Wintry toward her. The larger pony allowed it, and the two of them started kissing. After several minutes, Scootaloo moved Wintry again, this time putting her belly-down against the bed and exposing her large, perfectly white wings.

“Scootaloo, no,” said Wintry. “You don’t have to do that, it’s not your job- -”

Scootaloo smiled mischievously. “As Captain of this ship, I simply cannot have my second-in-command having such messy wings! Present them for cleaning immediately! That’s an order!”

Wintry giggled. “Oh, well, if it’s an order from my Captain, how can I refuse?”

She spread her wings, and Scootaloo sank into them, gently taking each feather in her mouth and carefully preening them as Wintry tried so suppress her moaning below.

Then, suddenly, there was a resounding explosion on the far side of the room. The force was enough to send several items flying off of Scootaloo’s desk. Scootaloo herself turned around quickly to find herself facing a violet, translucent alicorn hologram.

Wintrygust turned too, and upon seeing the representation of the Princess of Friendship squeaked and hid herself beneith Scootaloo’s sheets.

“Ah,” said Twilight, her magical representation smiling. “There you are! Finally, the correct ship! You have no idea how many I tried. It’s weird, I can transport a representation of myself halfway across the galaxy. That’s easy. The problem is getting it to go to the right place…” She looked at the lump where Wintry was hiding. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“No, definitely not.” Scootaloo had meant the comment to be heavily sarcastic, but with Twilight Sparkle being Twilight Sparkle, she took it literally.

“Good. I need to talk to you.”

Scootaloo was about to tell her to leave, but somehow, that seemed less appropriate than letting her stay. Twilight was, after all, one of Equestria’s three goddesses. That, and Scootaloo actually considered her to be a friend of sorts.

“What is it?” said Scootaloo, trying to move the sheets around her to hide where Wintrygust was located.

“You…have something on your mouth.”

Scootaloo wiped her mouth with her hoof and found several white feathers stuck to it. She blushed heavily and spat them away.

Twilight smiled, as if she were completely oblivious to what Scootaloo had been doing. Technically, it had not been illegal because Wintry was farm-raised and not legally considered a real pony, but it was still highly embarrassing.

“I need your help,” said Twilight. “I just received word from my brother.”

“You mean Shining Armor? He actually contacted you?”

Twilight nodded. “Something is wrong. Proximity alarms have detected something approaching the Crystal Galaxy. Something large.”

Scootaloo shivered. She had already been aware of this fact. “Well, the Crystal Empire is more than capable of managing it.”

“True,” said Twilight. Her eyes shifted slightly. Even as a hologram, she was still easy to read. There was something she was not saying. “But he was deeply concerned. He asked me for help.”

“Then you should go help him,” said Wintry, poking her head out from beneath the sheets at the foot of the bed. “He is your brother after all.”

Scootaloo quickly shoved Wintry back beneath the blankets. Twilight did not seem to notice. Scootaloo realized that it was quite possible that the hologram she had sent was not actually capable of seeing. The technology that Twilight used was vastly different than any that had been developed elsewhere in Equestria; Scootaloo was not at all familiar with how it worked.

“That’s the problem,” said Twilight. “I’m sure you’re aware of Equestria’s current situation. What with the continual threat of the chaos wizards, the Carbanado-Canid rebellion, and general defense, we can’t spare the Harmony.” Twilight paused. “In fact, to be honest, we’re spread thin. Too thin. We don’t have any ships to spare. Not right now.”

“So, let me guess,” said Scootaloo, her mood darkening. “You want to send a ship that has no tactical significance?”

Twilight beamed. “Exactly!”

Scootaloo sighed. “So you, what exactly? This is just a survey ship. It doesn’t even have forward guns. That, and its captain isn’t exactly in good repute.”

“I would disagree,” said Twilight. “Five years ago, Rainbow Dash attempted to use my power to start a war. I was injured and unconscious, and she…she used me.” Twilight’s hologram shivered. “You saved hundreds of millions of alien lives, Scootaloo. And it…it hasn’t been the same with Rainbow.” Twilight looked Scootaloo in the eye. “There’s not a lot of ponies I can trust anymore. You are one of a very select few.”

Scootaloo was not sure what to say, although she was acutely aware of the irony of Twilight’s statement. Twilight was a Core, the same type of pony as Trixie- -except that while the countless thousands of other Cores remained unconscious during their vastly shortened lifespans, Twilight remained awake and in control of the Harmony and would continue to do so throughout her immortal lifetime. Scootaloo would have gotten up and left the room right then and there if she had not already been aware that Twilight was equally if not more so aware of the same irony.

“I just want you to check it out, in the spirit of friendship between our peoples. It’s important diplomatically, and, well, if Shining Armor is right I need eyes on whatever it is that he’s detecting. Whatever it is, it’s moving quickly, and there’s not much time- -”

“No.”

“- -Until it reaches- -wait a second,” Twilight sputtered. “What did you just say?”

“I said no,” said Scootaloo. “I’m just a survey pony. I hate saying no to you, Twilight. Not just because you’re my Princess but because you’re my friend. But I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not the Fleet Commander. You’re not even in the naval hierarchy. I can’t go against Rainbow Dash. Not again. I’m already hanging by a thread. If I push her on this…”

“You’ll lose your command.”

Scootaloo nodded, even though that was not the case. She had never wanted to be a captain in the Equestrian navy; she had never even wanted to join. Those had been Rainbow Dash’s doing. The command meant nothing to her- -but if she was forced out, they would take Trixie away from her.

Twilight sighed- -an unusual sight for a system created entirely out of plates of magic- -and looked up at Scootaloo. “Then you give me no choice. I’m expediting Tertiary Commander Lightning Dust’s court-martial request.”

Wintrygust sat completely upright, her red-dyed hair splaying out around her as she emerged from her hiding place. “You- -you can’t! You can’t do that!”

“I just did,” said Twilight. “Scootaloo, you are found guilty of mutiny, making of threats against superior officers, and subverting the chain of command. By the authorization of the Royal Equestrian Navy, you are hereby stripped of all rank, title, and rights as a naval officer. All commissions and Naval property will be confesnscated immediately.”

“I see,” said Scootaloo quietly.

“Scootaloo,” said Wintry. “She can’t- -there is an appeals process, we can- -”

“Appeal has been denied. Parole has been denied. I have done all the paperwork, Scootaloo. You are no longer a member of the Equestrian navy.”

Scootaloo stared for a moment at her former friend, and then took a long look at Wintry. Then, slowly, she got out of bed. She instinctively reached for her uniform, but then pulled her hoof away. She wiped her eyes with her hoof, and then turned back to Twilight.

“I’ll go without a fight,” she said. “Send the shuttle to pick me up as soon as you can. I can’t…I can’t be here anymore. Just, please, just let me say goodbye to Trixie.”

“I’m not finished,” said Twilight.

“What else is there?” snapped Scootaloo.

“By my authority as a Divine Princess of Equestria, I hereby reconstitute you as a Priestess of the Cult of Harmony.” Wintrygust gasped, and Scootaloo looked back at Twilight, who was smiling. “This decision is effective immediately. You are no longer bound by normal Equestrian law, and your life will be dedicated toward serving in the name of Harmony until you either renounce your faith or, well, die.”

“Can you…can you do that?” asked Wintrygust.

“I’m a Princess,” laughed Twilight. “I can do whatever I want.” She looked down at Scootaloo. “But I am serious. Deadly serious. You report to me now, and only me. No Fleet Commander, no navy.”

“You’re kidding,” said Scootaloo.

“Of course not,” said Twilight. “I’m even having a new Priestess uniform sent to you. It should be really nice, Rarity designed it personally. I haven’t really had a chance to use them yet. You’re my first Priestess, after all.”

“What?”

“I’ve already filled out the paperwork to this ship’s crew to serve you. I actually did it while we were talking. Filled, initialed, and sent. Oh, and I’m sending out a new ship- -”

“No,” said Scootaloo. “I’m taking this ship.”

Twilight blinked, confused. “Seriously?”

“Trixie can’t survive another transfer. And I’m not leaving her behind.”

“Scootaloo, I know you have an affection for her, but she’s nearly gone.”

“I’m NOT leaving her. She’s my friend. What kind of Priestess would I be if I did that to a friend?”

Twilight smiled broadly. “So…you accept?”

“I can’t really not accept,” said Scootaloo. “You did just court-martial me. Do you know how pissed Rainbow Dash is going to be?”

“Not very. That would require her to be sober. And she hasn’t really been since you were demoted.”

“Consider it provisional, though,” said Scootaloo. “We’ll see how this goes, first. Alright?”

“It should go perfectly,” said Twilight. “Oh, I’m so excited! An actual Priestess!”

Wintrygust smiled and clapped.

“You will need to send somepony to get Lemon Heart, though,” noted Scootaloo. “She’s not part of my crew, and I don’t think she’s going to take kindly to having her research interrupted.”

“No,” said Twilight, suddenly serious. “You need to take Lemon Heart with you.”

“What? Why?”

“No reason,” said Twilight, clearly lying. “I mean…if you’re taking Trixie as your Core, you need somepony who can take care of her. And despite her…inclinations…Dr. Heart is a leader in her field. If anyone can keep Trixie going, it’s her.”

“It’s going to take some time to prepare,” said Wintrygust. “From a logistical standpoint, this isn’t going to be easy.”

“My recent upgrade has given me greater teleportation range,” said Twilight. “I’m encoding your central computer to access mine. My brother has already given me the necessary authority to move you to the Crystal Galaxy. When you’re ready, let me know. But do hurry, if you can.”

“Yes,” said Scootaloo. “Um…Princess?”

“Princess if fine,” said Twilight, “but you can also address me as ‘Goddess’. Or just ‘Twilight’ is fine.”

“Yes, Princess,” said Scootaloo, saluting.

“Excellent. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a lot to do today. Most of it involves blowing chaos wizards out of orbit. You know, spreading friendship across the galaxy. But we will be in touch.”

Twilight waved, and with a loud implosion her hologram vanished, leaving Wintry and Scootaloo alone once again.

Chapter 7: Parnack

Starlight’s teleportation spell completed, and her vessel appeared in a new location across the galaxy from the Citadel. On board, Beri suddenly stumbled as though she had almost been knocked off balance.

“What- -what was that?” she said, looking around disoriented.

“What’s the matter?” said Jack, who had been completely unfazed by the event. “Have you even been into space before, Berry?”

“Of course I have you human reject- -what the hell did we just do?”

“We moved,” said Starlight, her voice transmitted throughout her tech and biotic construct.

“What the hell does that even mean? Where are we? How did- -” Beri looked down through the floor, and the fact that she was standing in a spacecraft that had no solid components short of a unicorn fully occurred to her. “No- -this- -” She glared up at Jack. “This ship- -this isn’t a ship! This is just tech!”

“Sure is,” said Jack. “The only thing keeping you from the vacuum of space is Starlight Glimmer. I recommend that you don’t make her angry.”

“You’re both insane. Completely insane! This- -this violates several REGULATIONS!”

“Jack is clinically insane,” said Starlight. “Severe psychosis.”

“You’re joking.” Beri turned to Jack. “She’s joking, right?”

Jack just shrugged and leaned against a wall.

“Bloody hell…this…no. Just…no. I’m not going to concern myself with this. A proper Spectre is adaptable.” She took a deep breath into her cybernetic lungs. “Okay. So, Starlight Glimmer, where actually are we?”

“Look beneath your feet,” said Jack, pointing. They both looked down at the planet below.

“That’s- -that’s not in the Serpent Nebula,” said Beri. “Where did- -how did- -”

“I told you,” said Starlight. “I moved us. That planet? That’s Parnack.”

Beri cringed. “You can’t be serious. Please, please don’t be serious.”

Even Jack looked slightly surprised. “Parnack? Really?”

“You do realize that Parnack is under a level-three quarantine, right?” shouted Beri. “Look, I can literally see one of the warning beacons from here! Council races are not permitted to land on or approach this planet!”

“Neither I nor Starlight are members of Couoncil races,” noted Jack.

“Well, no, but normally no other races are dumb enough to even get near this planet!”

“Hey. If you want to stay on the ship, go ahead- -oh wait, you can’t. It disappears when Star lands. So I guess you’re going down there.”

“L…land?” squeaked Beri. “You actually want to land? On Parnack? You know that there are yahg down there, right?”

“Yahg on Parnack,” said Starlight. “No, I had no idea. The next thing you know, you’re going to tell me that there are lesbians on Thessia. Or that my diet consists largely of grass.”

“She does have a point, though,” said Jack. “Have you ever even seen a yahg, Star? They’re not fun to fight. They make krogan look like paper targets.”

“We have friends down there,” said Starlight. “And I need a crew. I would have hired Si’y at the Citadel, but he was working a job.”

“Si’y was at the Citadel? You saw him? Come on, Starlight! We could have had a drinking contest!”

“The last time we tried that, I woke up with my head in Aria T’Loak’s lap,” said Starlight. “Besides, he was busy. He had the Cain out.”

“On the Citadel? No wonder Garrus was so crusty.” She paused. “Wait, who the hell do we know who lives on Parnack?”

“You’ll see. Brace for freefall.”

Jack reached up toward the wall, and it shifted to produce a handle which she gripped tightly. “You might want to hold onto something,” she said.

“Why?” asked Beri.

The question was answered very quickly when Starlight suddenly dropped the ship through the atmosphere.

When the ship finally slowed, Starlight guided over the treetops in a rural forest. When she finally reached an appropriate clearing, she paused before dispelling the vessel. She and Jack dropped to the ground, Jack landing handily on her cybernetic legs and Starlight slowing her descent with a biotic field. Beri, meanwhile, was dropped into the thick snow below without warning and landed awkwardly.

“Ack!” she cried, flailing before standing up. “Why did you do that?”

“Don’t expect a landing ramp, Spectre,” said Jack.

“I didn’t, but I do expect at least a warning!” She stood up and looked around. The forest consisted of large, dark-trunked trees with thick, rough bark. The air was cold and windy; from what Starlight could tell, much of this side of the planet was this way.

Beri brushed herself off. “I can’t believe this…I’m on Parnack, breaking SO many laws, with a dirty human and a horse. I did not sign up for this.”

“And I didn’t want a Spectre who went into the business for a desk job,” said Starlight, starting through the snow. The armor she wore was comparatively protective against temperature extremes, but the large amount of metal in her back carried a great deal of the cold directly into her spine. She could deal with it, but it was uncomfortable.

Starlight summoned her omnitool and examined it for a moment, clicking at the buttons using the biotic energy of her horn, largely as a force of habit. “The signal is this way,” she said, pointing.

“What signal?” said Beri. She looked around at the trees nervously as a number of large, bird-like creatures jumped amongst the branches, watching the trio below with numerous hungry eyes. “What the hell are we tracking?”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Jack. “What matters is that we watch out for what’s tracking us. We’re not far from a city. I saw it on the way down while Beri was pissing herself.”

“I did not!”

Starlight started leading them toward the signal.

“Crap,” said Beri, pulling out an assault rifle from her back. She also removed a small band from her pocket and attached it to her head. It promptly produced a blue holographic square over her right eye. “I don’t like this…you know what they did to the Council delegation that came down here, right?”

“No,” said Starlight. “To be honest, I don’t care too much.”

“They killed them. Slaughtered them, even. To eat.”

“Makes sense,” said Jack. “Knowing the Council, they probably came down here armed with nothing but fancy words and fancier ultimatums.”

“And yet when Equestria sends something actually evil, they treat her like she’s the best thing they’ve ever seen,” muttered Starlight.

“Well, to be honest,” said Jack. “You ponies are a lot cuddlier than a yahg.”

Starlight could not argue with that, especially since she had no idea what yahg actually looked like.

They continued walking for the better part of an hour, mostly trying to stay quiet. In all that time, Beri had seemingly not noticed that the birds had stopped following them and that the forest had gone completely silent.

“That last tree we passed,” said Jack, quietly. “The one that looked like it had a face in the bark?”

“And circling back across that large rock that looks like a krogan.”

“You saw them too?”

“My sensor array picked them up within a few minutes after our arrival. For their size, they’re creepy silent.”

“What are you talking about?” said Beri, clearly catching the tone of the conversation even if she could not hear its content.

“Berry,” said Jack, her hand going toward the oversized Spectre pistol that she carried on her belt. “What’s the most powerful gun you’ve got?”

“What? Oh,” Beri reached for her own belt and produced an oddly-shaped pistol emanating blue light. “This one. A zetan Mark 44.”

“Zetan? Seriously?”

“Say what you want about the zetans, they make good guns.”

“They better,” said Starlight, “because you’re about to need it.”

There was a sudden sound of rushing underbrush, and for the first time Beri became aware of the pair of yahg hunters that were following them. She turned just in time to see one of them sprinting toward her at ridiculous speed.

Starlight had not known exactly what to expect, but seeing a yahg up close was a terrifying sight, even for her. They had wide, armored heads with eight glaring eyes and trilobal mouths filled with numerous sharp teeth. Starlight was not entirely sure, but she thought she also saw a pair of spiraling horns emerging from the back of its head- -it was difficult to see, though, because the creature stood nearly ten feet tall.

Beri, suddenly realizing that close to two metric tons of muscle and organic armor was sprinting toward her, reacted quickly. Instead of trying to dodge, she planted her feet in the ground and struck the creature in the gut with her fist. The force was so great that Starlight could actually hear the impact, and the yahg stopped in its tracks.

At the same time, the other yahg opened fire from a distance. The bullets were apparently ballistic, and they moved slow enough that Starlight could surround herself in a dome of protective energy to deflect them. Both she and Jack moved quickly toward cover, with Jack sending a trio of biotic bolts at the sniper.

Behind them, the yahg that had attacked Beri took a step back. Despite the impact, he seemed mostly undamaged. This time he struck Beri with a powerful uppercut. She blocked the blow, but despite her cybernetic strength she was still comparatively light. She was sent flying into the air until she slammed into the trunk of a tree.

The yahg charged, and Beri drew her zetan pistol. She fired, but the yahg’s reflexes were faster than hers. It dodged the sudden orb of blue light, and Starlight watched as the energy beam cut into the trunk of an enormous tree, vaporizing away half of the four-meter diameter trunk. The remaining wood snapped and splintered, unable to bear the force, and the tree came thundering down to the ground.

Jack managed to leap out of the way, but Starlight was forced to teleport to behind the tree to avoid being crushed or trapped beneath it. Almost as soon as she emerged, however, felt something large approach her. She turned just in time to see a third yahg racing toward her, and before she could react he slammed the butt of his rifle into her forehead. The shock to her horn almost knocked her unconscious, and what little of a biotic shield she had managed to produce was instantly dissipated.

“Star!” cried Jack. Starlight was confused and disoriented, and she could not find where her friend was standing. She tried to walk, but the vertigo caused by having her horn struck overtook her and caused her to drop into the cold snow. She was able to look up and see a hail of bullets rebounding off the yahg’s armor as it nonchalantly defended its face with one of its ridiculously over muscular arms.

“Beri, I need support over- -” There was another loud explosion from one of the yahg’s rifles firing, and Jack cried out in pain and anger. Starlight tried to turn her head, but then had the wind knocked out of her as she was kicked across the snowy ground.

As she came to a stop, the first yahg to have attacked pushed his way out of the tree branches that had landed on him. The two of them converged on her as the sniper kept Beri in cover behind a nearby rock.

Then, suddenly, Starlight saw something take a flying leap over the fallen tree. In her disoriented state, she did not see it clearly beyond the fact that it was much smaller than a yahg and appeared to be made of metal.

One of the yahg turned, but not quickly enough. Two claws on the ends of a pair of digitigrade feet grabbed his shoulders. With a twist of her body, the figure pulled him to the ground. His feet lost traction in the wet snow and branches and he landed face-down in front of Starlight.

The figure landed beside Starlight, crouching and prepared for attack. Starlight looked up at her, and, oddly enough recognized her. Her body was different than it had been, now consisting of a somewhat thin, semi-humanoid cybernetic construct, but her head was still that of a teal unicorn, her white and green hair blowing in the wind behind her.

“Starlight,” said Lyra, as though this was an ordinary greeting. She looked down with her one functional eye and smiled. “You should have called ahead.”

With a yell, the second yahg charged. Lyra did not hesitate; one of her three-fingered robotic hands glowed with orange biotic light. Instead of striking the yahg in the stomach as Beri had, she instead opted for its knee. With its short arms, it had no way to block, and the joint shattered, immediately bending the wrong way. The yahg screamed in agony and collapsed, unable to walk.

By this time, the larger of the two yahg was back on his feet. Lyra turned easily and charged her horn, firing a bolt of energy directly through the yahg’s shoulder. He stepped back, barely phased by the blow- -until the orange energy began to expand through his shoulder, corroding away a large wound in his flesh.

Now that he was distracted, Lyra delivered a powerful blow to his gut, and then another and another before he could react. Behind her, the wounded yahg raised his rifle- -and it was suddenly surrounded with an orange glow as Lyra took control of it, using it to fire several rounds into the yahg’s comrade. She then turned it on the sniper yahg, who was approaching and already badly burned from one of Beri’s rounds.

Most of Lyra’s force seemed to concentrate on the lead yahg, though, and when he was finally down Lyra struck him in the head sharply enough to disorient him. Badly wounded, bleeding, and still burning from the biotic attack, the yahg was no longer able to resist.

Lyra picked him up by one of his horns. “This is MY land,” she said. “Who gave you permission to hunt here?”

“We do not…need your permission,” said the yahg, speaking with a heavy accent and great difficulty, partly because of his alien vocal structure but mostly because of the amount of blood that was pouring into his mouth from his mostly broken teeth.

Lyra grimaced, and then jammed one of her fingers into one of the yahg’s eye sockets. He roared in pain as his eye was destroyed and lifted one of his arms to strike Lyra. She struck it with enough force to shatter the bone within, rendering the lower part of the limb useless and hanging.

“Lyra!” cried Starlight. “Stop!”

Lyra ignored Starlight. “You think you can challenge ME? However strong you THINK you are, I AM STRONGER!” She took another eye, and the yahg screamed.

“Offworlder scum,” he chocked.

At this, Lyra smiled. She grabbed one of the yahg’s horns, gripping it tightly as her hand glowed with biotic energy. “The next thing that’s coming off is this. And I know how to do it so it won’t grow back. Recognize me, or I will pull it out.”

“You wouln’t- -offworlder not have the- -” His words devolved into screaming as Lyra began to pull. “No! NO! Mercy!”

“Recognize me!” demanded Lyra, still pulling the horn.

“You are superior! I am subordinate! I am subordinate!”

Lyra immediately released him, letting his head fall back into the snow. She turned her attention toward the yahg with the broken knee and his badly burned comrade.

“No, please!” said the burned one. “We are his subordinates! We are now your subordinates! We do not wish to challenge you offworlder.” They both bowed, and their leader sat up slowly. Lyra did not seem bothered by this, and allowed him to catch his breath and slowly rise.

“Indeed,” he said, wiping away the blood from his mouth and then clutching his broken arm. “I had not believed, but the stories are true. I concede with pride.” He looked down at Starlight. “And them?”

“They are my subordinates also,” said Lyra. She looked up at the group of yahg. “All of you are injured. Go. Find my husband. Or my stepdaughter, if you are brave.”

“Yes, master,” said the lead yahg. He and his friend helped the third with the knee injury stand, and they walked off into the snow.

Lyra watched them go, and then helped Starlight up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” said Starlight, rubbing her now throbbing head. “I don’t know what happened. I- -I couldn’t use my biotics…”

“Of course you couldn’t. You need to protect your horn.” Lyra pointed at her own. “You can’t use magic if your horn gets hit.”

“But how did they know that?”

“They must have seen you use it at some point. Trust me, the yahg look big and dumb, but they are incredibly perceptive.”

Jack approached them. One of her arms was hanging limply at her side, and she was trailing blood through the snow.

“Jack!” cried Starlight.

“Goddamn it,” said Jack. “What the hell are they shooting?”

Lyra separated two of her fingers about an inch apart. “About this big, and square.”

“Square?”

“Yeah. They yahg really like it to hurt.”

“I have some medigel,” said Starlight, opening her omnitool and remotely administering the mixture. Jack seemed to respond well, and her vital-sign telemetry improved.

“You’re going to need more than that,” said Beri, approaching from behind them. Despite appearing concerned with Jack, she could not take her eyes off Lyra.

“I know a doctor,” said Lyra, smiling. “I’d fix you yourself, but, well…” she lifted one of her robotic hands and flexed the fingers. “We all know how that went.”

Lyra led the group through the forest to an area where the species of trees changed from enormous ferny conifers to shorter, spinier trees. It was clearly evident that she knew exactly where she was going.

They eventually came to a large building. Its appearance was somewhat sudden; there was no clearing of trees around it; rather, the tree line simply seemed to end where the building started. Starlight was actually somewhat surprised by the building’s appearance. Despite the yahg’s imposing presence, their architecture was actually not as aesthetically displeasing as their bodies were. From outside, the building seemed to be winding and complicated but actually rather architecturally balanced with an appearance that matched well with the forest surrounding it. The construction was, of course, sturdy, but it was of far greater caliber than the utilitarian prefabs that Starlight had become all too familiar with.

“Watch your head,” said Lyra, pointing to a frame that was almost six feet over her own head as they passed through a wide door.

“That’s a big door,” said Starlight.

“I’ve seen bigger,” muttered Beri.

“The high ceilings are actually great in the summer,” said Lyra as she led them down the long and mildly dark hallway. “It’s cold right now, but the planet has close to a thirty-five degree axial tilt. The summers get real hot. It’s really annoying when the only part of you that can sweat is your head.”

“You mean this is a yahg building?” said Beri, suddenly concerned. “With yahg in it?”

“No, it’s a yahg building with all the yahg standing outside.” Lyra sighed. “Who is the turian, Starlight? He’s not very bright.”

“I’m a ‘she’.”

“Oh. How am I supposed to be able to tell?”

“She’s a Spectre,” sighed Starlight.

“Clearly not a very good one if she couldn’t take down a group of poachers.”

“Well, I’m ready for a rematch,” said Beri, drawing her glowing pistol.

“Put that away!” said Lyra. “This is a hospital! Our job is fixing injuries, not making new ones.”

“Yes. Clearly. You’re one to talk,” said Starlight.

“Quiet you,” said Lyra, flicking the end of Starlight’s horn.

Indeed, it was a hospital. After Lyra led them past what was apparently an auxiliary entrance, more yahg became visible. They looked not unlike the others, except they wore several different sorts of uniforms and were color and symbol-coded by the paint that they wore on their faces. Many of them were pushing equipment, but others were walking through the corridors on their way elsewhere. All of them looked at the group of aliens suspiciously, but upon noticing Lyra, they inevitably turned away gruffly and went about their business.

They were more than a little intimidating, and walking among them was nerve wracking, especially for Starlight. Her back was already knee-high on most bipedal races, and compared to the yahg she was tiny. Despite their size, though, the yahg moved with surprising grace and silence and Starlight doubted that she would be crushed too badly beneath their feet.

Lyra eventually stopped. In front of her stood a large crowd of yahg, all of them wearing long white coats. They seemed to be congregated around a cloth-partitioned area of what Starlight took to be an emergency room.

“Well, look at this,” said a deep but distinctively non-yahg voice from the other side of them. Starlight recognized it immediately. “You’re all in for a treat today.”

Starlight pushed past Lyra and between the feet of the group of yahg. They barely seemed to notice her, instead focusing with rapt attention on the speaker. When Starlight finally managed to reach the other side, she found herself looking up at a white-coated krogan standing before a seated yahg holding a bloody cloth against his eyes and with a glowing orange hole in his shoulder.

Fenok grabbed the shoulder of the yahg firmly and adjusted him to show the wound to his students. The patient growled loudly and bared his teeth, but Fenok ignored it. “This isn’t something you’ll almost never encounter on Parnack. A biotic injury with full penetration and residual reave effect. Considering the patient’s other injuries, how would we treat?”

“Clean the wound and apply antibiotic,” said one of the yahg.

“Incorrect!” bellowed Fenok. “The effect is progressive. If the fundamental process is not addressed, the patient’s going to lose half his torso by the time he wakes up in the morning.”

“What?” said the patient, his remaining eyes widening.

“Debridement of the wound,” suggested another student. “Remove the affected tissue and a wide margin of healthy material. Treatment is then standard course for a large wound.”

“Yes,” said Fenok, hesitantly. “That would work if this were in a minor location, but at the shoulder that would lead to amputation of the arm. Incorrect.”

“Amputation?” said the patient, his voice increasing in octave.

“No,” said the student who had just spoken. He bristled, and the other yahg stepped away from him. “That is NOT incorrect. That is the necessary treatment. His loss of arm is acceptable.”

Fenok glared at the yahg, and then approached him, staring him right in his multiple eyes. The yahg actually took a step back. “What did you just say to me?”

“I- -I said nothing,” said the yahg. “Nothing at all, Professor.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Fenok, lumbering back over to the patient. “I wouldn’t have asked the question if I didn’t know the answer. Not to you. Not yet. It is increasingly clear that not one of you is ready.”

Another voice from the crowd spoke up. This one was clearly not a yahg either. Starlight leaned forward and looked past one of the yahg to see a much shorter figure, an asari in a white coat that was a smaller version of the others. Her face was badly scarred and both of her eyes were artificial, but she addressed Fenok with absolute confidence and a smile on her lips. “You would need to apply an energy stabilization matrix over the wound to neutralize the residual energy, followed by IV capacitive chelation. From then on, it’s up to the patient to heal.” She looked up at the wounded yahg. “To disguise the injury, I would recommend that you appear with one hand on the hilt of a sword.”

“That is correct,” said Fenok, almost reluctantly. “But tell me, Zedok, what type of anesthetic would one use for the procedure?”

“For this type of surgery? None. It would be a sign of weakness for the patient.”

The patient suddenly became very pale, but the other students murmured amongst themselves in approval. One even clapped.

“Correct,” said Fenok. He pointed at the second yahg who had gotten the question wrong. “My daughter just told you how to do it. It wouldn’t be fair for me not to give you a second chance, so you complete the procedure. You’re the second-ranked student in the group, it should be easy. Don’t mess up, though. If that arm comes off, I’m sending you all the way back down to the bottom. You’ve got that?”

“Yes, Professor.”

Fenok’s eyes drifted over the group, and then suddenly settled on Starlight. “You get to that. I have something to attend to.”

He stepped toward Starlight, and the yahg moved out of his way. It was almost comical to see a group of beings that made a full-grown krogan look small, and Starlight could not help but smile.

“Starlight Glimmer,” said Fenok. “It’s good to see you!”

“Starlight?” said a voice from the other side of the crowd. There was some pushing and some swearing in several languages, and Zedok emerged from the group. “STARLIGHT!”

She swooped down and picked Starlight off the ground, wrapping her in a tight hug.

“Zedok,” said Starlight. “It’s so good to see you!”

“I know, right? Star, where have you been? I haven’t seen you in years!”

“It’s been too long,” said Starlight, letting Zedok set her back down. She looked up at the grinning asari. “Your scars are looking better.”

“I know, right? Almost two percent healed! In another sixty, eighty years tops I’ll be as blue and smooth as every other asari out there. Then I guess I’ll have to get a new set.”

“No,” said Fenok, firmly. “That’s not how scars are supposed to work.” He turned to Starlight. “Starlight, what are you doing here? Parnack isn’t exactly a good place for prey species like us.”

“I found them wandering outside,” said Lyra, stepping past Starlight. She leaned toward Fenock and kissed him on the lips.

Starlight felt her eyes widen drastically. “You- -you two? You didn’t.”

“We did,” said Lyra, proudly.

“And you didn’t invite me to the wedding?”

“We tried,” said Fenok, “but you’re not exactly easy to find. That, and we didn’t feel that asking you to come to Parnack would have been wise.”

“I can handle myself. You know that.”

“Yes. It is not you I was worried about. I’d rather not have fighting at a wedding.”

“But isn’t that the norm for krogan weddings? And how do you to even…”

Lyra pointed at her crotch plate. “Well, I networked the primary sensory system into- -”

“NO NO NO!” said Zedok, covering her ears. “I don’t need to know the mechanics of it!”

“Neither do I,” said Jack. “Honestly, this is cute and all, but I can’t help but feel a little ill.”

“Buck you, Jack,” said Lyra.

Fenok and Zedok seemed to not have initially noticed Jack, and when they turned their attention to her Zedok gasped.

“Jack! You’re here- -and you’re hurt!”

“Hold on,” said Fenok. “I have some medical supplies- -”

“Don’t worry, dad,” said Zedok. “Let me handle this one.”

“Are you sure?”

“You can trust me,” said Zedok, smiling. “Besides…” She pointed toward one of the other patient slots where a yahg was waiting with one of his knees bending the wrong way. “I know how much you love orthopedic surgery.”

Fenok grumbled and turned toward the yahg patient. “If one more of these yahg punches me in the face…I’ll punch back this time, I swear.”

“No you woudn’t,” said Zedok.

“No, but I sure would want to,” retorted Fenok, loud enough that the yahg could hear.

Zedok smiled and led Jack into a small side room. “Oh wow, I can’t believe I’m actually going to get to work on you,” she said. “I know I went through that whole teenage fangirl phase, but to tell you the truth, I never actually got over it. I mean, how could I? You’re Jack!”

“Worshiping a criminal?” said Beri. “Not exactly a wise choice.”

Zedok’s robotic pupils narrowed and her expression hardened. “Now, I don’t know who you are, turian, but I don’t like your tone. Am I going to have to administer medicine to your face?”

“How about you administer some of it to your own, asari?”

“Stop,” said Starlight. “Zedok, this is Berry. She’s a Spectre that I have to deal with now.”

“A Spectre? Wow, the quality sure has dropped since Shepard left.”

“Oh please. You’re seriously going to compare me to that human traitor?”

Jack’s fists clenched. She spoke in a voice that must have seemed calm and measured to anyone except Starlight. “You’re not going to want to continue this conversation, Berry.”

“She’s right,” said Starlight. “Seriously. Don’t.”

“Fine,” said Beri. “I’ll stop, but PLEASE stop calling me ‘Berry’. My name is Tyros. I am not a drupe.”

“You could have fooled me.” Zedok sat Jack down on a comically oversized chair and opened her omnitool. She began scanning the wound on Jack’s shoulder, and then reached to a package on her belt which contained asari-sized surgical tools.

“So,” said Jack. “You’re actually a doctor now?”

“Kind of.”

“That’s not normally what you want to tell your patients, Zed,” said Starlight.

“There isn’t really formal medical training on Parnack,” explained Zedock while she removed a piece of shrapnel from Jack’s arm. “It’s more like an apprenticeship system. But yes. I am qualified to do this, even if I don’t have approval on a galactic setting.”

“Good to know,” said Jack.

“So you aren’t a real doctor,” said Beri. “Are you even trained with anything that’s not a yahg?”

“Not really,” admitted Zedok. “But dad is constantly drilling me on xenomedicine. It’s actually way easier to do surgery on something that doesn’t have the armor of a tank….damn, Jack, what did you do?”

“I got shot.”

“Hold on, I’ll get some general anesthetic.”

“Don’t forget to tune the dose down,” said Lyra, pulling up a chair and slouching deeply. “The yahg stuff will probably kill her.”

“Doubtful,” said Jack. “I have a pretty high tolerance for narcotics. But don’t bother.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s not the first time I’ve been shot.” Jack’s silver eyes shifted toward Starlight. “The last time was when someone forgot to check her aim.”

“I can’t help it,” said Starlight. “I’m no good with guns. There’s just no way to hold them with magic and still brace them properly. And I’m sure as hell not going to use my hooves.”

“Tell me about it,” said Lyra. “I couldn’t shoot a fish in a barrel with my last body. As soon as I actually had shoulders, though, it was like somepony opened a door.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” said Jack. “That’s a nice body you’ve got there.”

“I’m the sexiest pony you’ve ever seen,” said Lyra, pointing. She laughed. “Of course, Fenok took some time to get used to it. He really liked my pony version. A lot.”

Zedok cringed, and Starlight shuddered. Lyra’s body had been fully robotic as long as Starlight had known her, so it had some leeway when it came to certain activities, but the thoughts that were running through Starlight’s head were not things she wanted to imagine.

“I don’t recognize your parts,” said Beri, suddenly far more interested in the conversation. “Is it something baterian?”

“Baterian? That crap? Of course not. I built this all myself.”

Beri’s eyes widened. “You mean all of that is custom? Even the internal life support?”

“You don’t need a lot of life support when you’re just a head and part of a spine. Of course I built it myself. Although, Fenok did help me fine-tune the neural feedback system. If you know what I mean.”

“Please stop,” groaned Zedok.

“Oh, yeah, you’re one to talk.”

“What about the reactor?” said Beri, now completely ignoring Zedok.

“Reactor? Why would I waste my time on something so…primitive?”

Beri blinked. “What?”

Lyra raised one of her hands and flexed the complex combination of robotic joints. “This isn’t your primitive alien crap. This is Equestrian technology. I animate it with my own magic.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It means,” said Starlight, “that she’s powering it with her biotics.”

Beri looked down at Starlight, and then up at Lyra. “I see.”

Starlight failed to admit that Beri, like Lyra, was almost entirely machine as well. It did not seem to be relevant, and unlike Lyra Beri actually seemed to hide the majority of her modifications beneath her armor and long sleeves. Jack had apparently not noticed, and as a non-Core unicorn, Lyra did not have the capacity to scan Beri as closely as Starlight could.

“There you go,” said Zedok, finishing her treatment. “You should be good to go.”

Jack flexed her arm. “Thanks. You’re pretty good at this.”

“I haven’t killed a patient yet,” said Zedok, proudly. “Well, not from a routine surgery. You’re just lucky you had your shield, or I would have had to…well…” She straightened one hand and pounded it lightly against her other palm, making a chopping sound with her mouth.

“I didn’t have a sheild,” said Jack.

“What?” said Starlight and Zedok at once.

“It makes my head all…buzzy, I guess. Something about the feedback with the implants.” Jack pointed to the hole in her armor. “I just used a biotic barrier.”

“Really?” said Zedok. She seemed as concerned as Starlight was angry. “That’s not normal…” She shook her head. “Well, you ARE Jack, aren’t you? Just as awesome as ever.” She helped Jack off the chair and led them out of the room.

“Jack,” said Starlight, falling back behind the others. “What the buck? No shields?”

Jack just shrugged. “Sometimes it’s better without protection.”

“You could have at least told me! I could have reconfigured the shield harmonics, or even fixed your implant!”

“I don’t like people poking around in my head. Not even you, Star. Besides…I don’t think I need the shields anymore.”

Before Starlight could continue, a yahg approached them from down the hallway. Unlike the others, he was not dressed in a uniform but rather in partially furry outfit that Starlight could only guess was supposed to be rustic. Also unlike the others, he had no face paint, and his horns were small and almost bovine in nature. He was holding a large sack.

“Darien!” cried Zedok. She rushed toward him, and with a small flash of blue light from her feet jumped into his arms. He caught her handily, cradling her in his arms as she wrapped hers around his neck.

“Hello, Zedok,” he said. He motioned toward the bag he was holding, which appeared to be dripping slightly. “I brought you lunch. Very fresh. Just slaughtered.”

“Aww!” Zedok turned toward her friends and Beri. “Guys, you have to try this stuff! I know it’s weird, and it totally grossed me out at first that its prepared raw, but it’s SO good. Especially in the winter when they’re extra fat! The flavor is…well, there’s nothing like it in the whole galaxy!”

“I’m an obligatory herbivore,” said Starlight.

“And I don’t eat,” said Beri.

“Sure,” said Jack, shrugging. “Um…what is it, exactly?”

“How to describe them…like fish, kind of? Except hairy. And with a lot sharper teeth. Darien’s family farms them, whatever they are.”

“We have for seventeen generations,” he said, proudly.

“Your name is Darien?” said Jack. “That doesn’t sound very yahg.”

“It isn’t,” admitted Darien. “But actual name is very, very difficult for offworlders to pronounce correctly. So I chose different name, one easier to say.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Zedok. “Darien, this is Jack and Starlight…and a turian, I guess. Guys, this is Darien.”

A thought suddenly occurred to Starlight. “Zedok, he isn’t…”

“Oh, trust me,” said Lyra, “he is.”

Starlight shivered and felt mildly nauseous. Darien seemed slightly embarrassed.

“Dating, you mean? Well, the yahg equivalent to it, yes,” said Zedok.

“That seems appropriately fitting for an asari,” muttered Beri.

“Hey, at least I’m not one of those weirdo asari who goes for turians!”

“And you don’t have any urge to attack us?” asked Starlight. “Not even a little?”

“Heavens no,” said Darien. “Zedok has told great many stories concerning you. I recognize you as superiors, and have no desire to challenge you. I am loyal to Zedok, but will help you in any way I can if she wills it.”

“I don’t know,” said Jack. “I always pictured yahg to be, you know…violent.”

“We are, but not always.”

“Not really,” said Lyra. “It’s just a cultural difference. For yahg, every party entering a social interaction needs to know the place of all the others involved. If you leave it ambiguous, they get agitated.”

“Indeed,” said Darien. “It is our sacred duty to uphold the tiers of the hierarchy.”

“And yet you slaughtered an entire Council delegation when they came here,” said Beri.

“Not myself,” said Darien. “That was long before me.”

“That’s not the way you hear it from the yahg,” said Lyra. “As they tell it, a bunch of aliens with a history of abducting and experimenting on them showed up and refused to show any semblance of tact or respect for the culture.” Lyra paused. “You should have seen it when we came here. I did NOT adjust well. Fenok, though, he basically bent over backward for them. Then, as they realized he was actually a great doctor, his rank increased. No fighting, just by reputation.”

“The honorable doctor Fenok has improved the art of medicine on Parnack greatly,” said Darien, “and has brought great benefit to our community and faction. That, and his daughter is an equal benefit, both in terms of beauty and potential.”

“Oh you,” said Zedok, hugging Darien’s neck. He hugged back, although very carefully. His hands were almost the size of her torso.

“Please don’t kiss,” said Beri. “I don’t know if I can handle it.”

“Neither could I,” said Fenok, approaching from behind Darien.

Darien immediately stiffened, dropping Zedok onto the ground. “Honorable Doctor Vuhlig,” he said. “Hello.”

“And why exactly are you here?” growled Fenok, wiping the yahg blood form his hands. His face looked slightly bruised. Apparently, the yahg actually had punched him.

“I brought Zedok- -I mean, the younger-Doctor Vuhlig- -lunch.” He held out the bag as an offering. “Although considering comparative size, there is amount to share with you and the pony Lyra as well.”

Fenok glared at him, and then grumbled as he walked past.

“You’re clan Vuhlig?” snickered Beri. “Seriously?”

“Don’t make me have to punch you,” said Zedok.

“Don’t punch the turian,” sighed Fenok. “I don’t want to have to clean up another mess today. And turian blood stinks horribly.”

“I don’t smell anything,” said Darien. “And I can smell all of your blood. It smells good. Especially that of pony.”

“Um…thank you?” said Starlight.

“You remind me of little animals that grandmother and I used to hunt. Which is good, those are good memories. Although the screaming was terrible.”

“Darien!” laughed Zedok, playfully punching him in his hip, which was roughly level with her shoulder. “Don’t scare Starlight!”

“Who said I was scared?”

“There will be no eating of anyone today,” said Fenok. “That would just be…unfortunate.” He turned to Lyra. “I’m done for the day. Why don’t we have a talk with our friends at home? It would certainly be more suitable than this place.”

“Can Darien come?” asked Zedok. “He did bring meat.”

“Sure,” said Lyra before her husband could refuse. “I want to see if Jack can actually keep this stuff down.” She smiled at Starlight. “I’ll bet you fifty credits she can’t.”

“You don’t know Jack like I know Jack. Deal.”

Fenok and Lyra’s house was not far from the hospital, stationed less than half a mile out into the woods. From what Starlight had come to understand, the yahg had a strong aversion to clearing forest; as such, the house was not unlike the hospital in that it was built nearly into the trees that surrounded it. The building itself resembled a pleasant cottage, although built on an enormous scale to accommodate yahg visitors.

When the group entered, Starlight noticed that the air was actually somewhat warmer. Fenok took off his outer coat and hung it on a hook near the door, as did Zedok. She was wearing a sleeveless garment beneath it, and the extensive surgical scars on her arms were immediately apparent. After some encouragement by Lyra, Darien did the same. He was wearing a similar garment to Zedok’s, but scaled up to his massive proportions.

“You don’t need to wear your armor in here,” said Lyra. “I’d take mine off too, but it doesn’t work that way.”

“Finally,” said Jack, immediately pulling off her shirt and revealing the extensive tattoos and scarring beneath.

“Star?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Starlight after a moment. She reached out with her magic and removed her armor, stepping out of it easily. Zedok’s eyes immediately flicked to Starlight’s flank.

“I didn’t pick you as one for tattoos, Star,” she said.

Starlight looked back at the pair of symmetrical equals signs on her flanks. “It’s a reminder,” she said, solemnly. Her eyes drifted to the extensive set of metal implants jutting out of her back, a part of her that she could not remove. “Of what I need to do.”

“Deep,” said Zedok. “I’ve tried getting tattoos myself, but asari skin just doesn’t hold ink at all.”

“You’re using the wrong type,” said Jack. “You would need to- -”

“Please don’t tell her,” sighed Fenok.

“Tell me later,” whispered Zedok, very loudly.

Fenok led the group out of the house’s main room and to what appeared to be a dining room with a table sized adequately for a krogan. Darien was relegated to the kitchen to prepare the meat, something he did exorbitantly quickly. Yahg, apparently, did not cook their food but simply divided it into pieces.

After nearly an hour of talking, Starlight was out fifty credits but felt happier than she had in a long time. Fenok and Lyra regailed Jack and Starlight with various tales from their time on Parnack, with Fenok mostly mentioning the trials and reward of working with yahg and Lyra explaining often gruesome fights she had gotten into and won. Zedok would occasionally chime in with her own parts of the stories, generally bringing a level of humor to them that would cause Starlight to burst out laughing periodically. Jack and Starlight, meanwhile, talked about their journey over the last few years and the things they had seen and done. Some were at least as funny as Zedok’s stories, but some were sad.

The whole time, Darien sat silently, his many eyes shifting from speaker to speaker as he waited patiently. Beri sat next to him and had quite obviously gone to sleep only minutes after the conversation had started.

“So,” said Lyra. “What I’m wondering is how did you find us? We’ve been out of contact for years. And it’s not exactly common knowledge that we’re down here.”

“I tracked you,” said Starlight.

“Well, I know that- -”

“No. You don’t understand. I tracked YOU.”

“Me? What do you mean ‘me’?”

“I scanned the area for another pony. Specifically, another unicorn. There’s only five of us in the galaxy right now, so it wasn’t hard.”

“Wait. You scanned the galaxy? As in the whole galaxy?”

“I am a Core. We can do that.”

“No, no you can’t,” said Lyra. “Normal Cores don’t have that good of resolution, especially not without an exogenous scanning platform. You can just do that by default?”

Starlight shrugged, not admitting the fact that she had actually been tracking Lyra for months. She had always maintained an idea of reconnecting with her friends, and she had assumed that she would do it one day- -but five years had passed so quickly, she just had not had the time.

“Wait,” said Zedok. “I only count two unicorns. Star, did you have kids or something?”

Beri snorted herself awake. “Huh? What?”

Starlight blushed. “No! Of course not! What I meant was, there’s three unicorns on the citadel right now.” Starlight’s tone darkened. “Or two, I guess. An Equestrian ambassador, another unicorn, and their Core.”

“Equestrians?” said Lyra, simultaneously concerned and interested. “What are they doing here? They aren’t going back on their promise, are they?”

Starlight shook her head. “No. Some diplomat. Does the name Rarity mean anything to you?”

“The fashion mogul? Yeah, I know her. Or of her.”

“I didn’t think of you as one for fashion,” said Jack, reclining shirtless in her oversized chair. Starlight almost burst into laughter looking at how ridiculous she looked.

“I wasn’t. Well, I was when I was younger. Back with…nevermind. Clothing doesn’t fit well over a robotic body. And with a face like this…” She pointed at her one dead, blank eye and the scars surrounding it. “They don’t make clothes that can make this look pretty.”

“Oh, Lyra,” said Fenock. He leaned over and hugged her lightly. She smiled.

“Yeah, come on, Lyra,” said Zedok. “Remember, scars are sexy.”

“Agreed,” said Darien, only to be immediately silenced by a devastating glare from Fenok.

“That does bring up the question we came here to ask,” said Beri. “About…wait, how long was I out?”

“Two hours and seventeen minutes,” said Darien.

“What?!” Beri glared at Starlight. “You were just talking? For that long? And you didn’t even ask them?”

“At least she wasn’t sleeping,” said Jack.

“Ask us what?” said Fenok.

Starlight sighed. “I came here to ask for help.”

“With what?” said Fenok, suddenly concerned. “What did you do?”

“It’s nothing serious,” said Starlight. “In fact, it’s optional. The Council assigned us a mission.”

“The Council?” asked Zedok. “Since when do you work for those shlubs?”

“It’s a business proposition.”

“Oh,” said Lyra, leaning forward and picking up a glass of water. “Finally getting into the mercenary business, Starlight?”

“You could say that. I’m trying to assemble a crew. Just some basic members to help out. I already have Jack, of course, and…her…”

“What kind of mission?” asked Zedok, excitedly. “Is something going to get blown up?”

“Hopefully not. It’s just a survey mission, basically. We’re supposed to go to the Crystal Galaxy- -”

Starlight was interrupted by the sound of violently shattering glass. She looked across the table to where Lyra was staring at her with her one orange iris narrowed and her robotic hand filled with broken glass.

“What did you just say?” she whispered.

“Well, apparently, a crystal pony asked the Council for assistance. They didn’t want to send, you know, actual soldiers. So Vakarian asked us.”

“A crystal pony? That- -that’s not possible.”

“Um…yes it is,” said Starlight. “I saw him. I even talked to him. He was definitely a pony, and defiantly crystal- -”

“Don’t joke about this!” snapped Lyra. She was on the verge of shouting, and the mood of the entire room changed.

“Lyra?” said Zedok.

“If they’ve learned to talk now, don’t believe a word it said,” said Lyra, ignoring her step-daughter. “They may look like ponies, but they’re not. Trust me on this, Starlight. I don’t care what they asked you to do, or who they are- -you are NOT going to that Celestia-forsaken hellhole.”

“I don’t see why it should be that much of a problem- -”

“A problem? A PROBLEM?” Lyra stood up sharply, sending her chair falling backward. She gestured toward her cybernetic body. “Look at me, Starlight! Do you know who did this to me? THEY did! Seventy years. That’s how long I spent fighting them, and in the end, they did THIS to me! They took everything from me! My career, my position, my body, my Bon Bon…”

Lyra turned away quickly, trying to disguise the tears that were forming in her eyes. Fenok stood up and held out his arms. “It’s okay, Lyra. It’s okay.” She fell into his arms and buried her head in his chest.

“I’ve been briefed on the situation,” said Beri. “From what I have been told, Equestria and the Crystal Empire have been in an armistice for over a decade now. The war is over.”

“Do you think that’s any comfort to the countless millions of ponies that the crystals killed?” said Lyra, darkly. “To my friends and comrades that couldn’t even get a proper burial? To…to Bon Bon…?”

“Do you think refusing to accept the armistice bothers the dead? Because I have news for you. They’re DEAD. They don’t care.”

“Berry…”

“It’s not as though the mission will not be dangerous, but we accept that. At least I do. And I will complete it.” She turned to Starlight. “I don’t know why you bothered to contact the civilians. I don’t even know why Vakarian didn’t just give the mission to me.” She stood up. “This is a waste of time.”

“I’ll go,” said Zedok.

The whole room suddenly went silent.

“What?” said Fenok. “I said I’ll go.”

“Zedok, you don’t know what you’re saying,” said Lyra. “The crystals- -”

“Are dangerous? I get that. But come on, Lyra. I grew up inside a geth starship.” She lifted her scarred arms. “Cerberus blew me up when I was fifteen- -and then three days later, I was on the front lines when the Harmony tried to take down the Citadel. Danger isn’t new to me.”

“Not to mention the fact that I may have sort of accidentally gutted you at one point,” added Starlight.

“Zedok,” said Lyra, “you don’t understand what the crystals are capable of, what they did in the war- -”

“No,” admitted Zedok. “I don’t. But I want to. Because it’s important to you, and who you are. I’m nineteen, Lyra. Most asari my age are out dancing naked on poles. I think wanting to explore a distant galaxy with one of my best friends and my childhood hero is a bit more noble than that, at least.”

“Um, no,” said Fenok. “Most asari you’re age are considered children and under constant parental supervision. You’re not even really considered an asari maiden until you hit at least fifty.”

“Well, then, it’s a good thing I’m half krogan.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re indestructible. And what about your medical training?”

“It’s mostly done,” said Zedok. “And besides. Regardless of what you say, at this point, it looks like I’m probably going to practice on Parnack for the foreseeable future. Even then, I want to have at least one more chance to look at the galaxy.”

Fenok grumbled. Starlight knew that he was trying to form an argument, but that what Zedok was describing was almost exactly what Fenok had done in his youth as well, and it was not something he regretted.

“You can come with us too,” said Starlight. “You really helped me a lot when Sjdath first found me. Remember that? You were the one who pulled me out of that abandoned ship, and who installed my first omnitool. It would be great to have you with us.”

“I wish I could,” said Fenok. “It would be good to see the galaxy again. But I have a practice here. I have students, and patients- -I’m expecting at least three births next week alone, and let me tell you, that is NOT an easy thing for a doctor to survive when it comes to yahg. The people here are counting on me, and I’m afraid I don’t have the luxury to go with you.”

“You don’t have to,” said Lyra, putting her hand on his shoulder. “Because I will.”

“You what?” said Starlight, confused. “But you just said- -”

“I know Zedok. And I know that even if we tried, we’re not going to stop her. Not that we should try. This is approximately the worst possible idea, and I’m going to recommend against it with everything I have- -but if she’s going, so am I. None of you have experience with the crystal galaxy, but I do. That, and nearly ninety years of continuous combat experience.”

“You’re really old, aren’t you?” said Jack.

“Older than you’ll ever be. Expecially if this goes the way I know it’s going to go.” Lyra looked up to Fenok. “Unless, of course- -”

Fenok shook his head. “This is Zedok’s decision, and yours. I love you, Lyra, and I trust you more than any other living individual in this galaxy. If anyone will keep Zedok safe, it will be you. However…” he looked up at Darien, who had been watching the drama unfold with mild amusement. “Take the yahg with you.”

All eight of Darien’s eyes widened. “M…me?” he squeaked.

Fenok released Lyra and walked over to where Darien was sitting. He put his hand on the yahg’s shoulder. “Darien, do you know how I feel about you?”

“You don’t like me.”

“No. I don’t. Not at all. Do you know why that is?” Darien shook his head. Fenok smiled. “Darien, do you know what the most valuable thing in a krogan’s life is?”

“Um…no?”

“His daughter,” said Fenok sharply. “I don’t expect you to understand the depth of this sentiment. I don’t think you could know. You know what the genophage is, but you never saw what it did. What Tuchanka became. How we krogan are. However, you make me seriously question my devotion to pacifism.”

“I was not aware,” said Darien. “I am truly sorry.”

Fenok shook his head. “Words. Words are worthless. You have to prove yourself. Go with Lyra and my daughter, and keep Zedok safe. If you make it back, I may actually respect you. Slightly.” Fenok paused. “Of course…if you come back and she doesn’t...well, just know that I’m familiar enough with your physiology to cut every piece of you off and still letting you take several weeks to die of infection.”

Darien let out a nervous whine. “And…if I don’t want to go?”

Fenok patted the yahg’s shoulder. “I think you can figure that out.”

“Oh! Oh!” cried Zedok, standing excitedly. “This will be great! This’ll be your first time offword! I actually have an armored suit I made for you just in case this ever happened!”

“You…you were planning this, weren’t you?”

“Well, not this specifically, but come on.” She raised one of the facial markings that existed in place of her eyebrows. “You knew you were signing up for this.”

Darien sighed and looked down at the table. “I did…” he admitted.

“Great,” said Beri, crossing her arms. “Now we have a horse, a psychopath, another horse, an asari teenage, and a yahg. Anyone else you want to add?”

“Have you talked to Sjdath?” asked Zedok.

Starlight’s eyes widened. “You actually know where she is?”

“Of course,” said Zedok. “We write to each other sometimes. Sort of. She tries to do it by hand, and, well, I’m just going to say it: vorcha have terrible handwriting.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to ask,” said Jack. “Sjdath is crap in a fight, but she’s damn persistent. That, and she owes me a ton of back pay.”

“What’s a vorcha?” said Darien, confused by the conversation.

Starlight looked up at him. “You’re about to find out.”

Chapter 8: Sjdath’s Planet

As far as Starlight’s charts and maps could tell her, the planet did not have a proper name. Nobody had bothered to give it one. It was not even a proper planet- -it was actually a small moon orbiting an enormous pale-blue gas giant that had a few volus satellites in decaying orbit that had not been inhabited for at least three hundred years. The only signal was the slow, fading telemetry of those satellites and the much stronger signals of several resource-acquisition probes that bore the identification code of a ship called the “Normandy”.

There was good reason why the moon was not inhabited, though. As starlight walked over the mossy, spongy ground while trying to avoid the numerous puddles of iridescent, bubbling sludge, she examined readings of the atmosphere.

“Holy buck,” she said, her voice slightly distorted by her helmet as she addressed her companions. “Do you have any idea what’s in the air here?”

“Can it even be called air?” said Jack, visibly uncomfortable with every inch of her skin covered by her protective suit. Behind her walked Lyra, her robotic body fully exposed save for her face which was covered in a semi-abstract, mask-like helmet followed closely by Zedok, dressed in her mother’s black asari commando armor. Darien, meanwhile, was standing waist-deep in a puddle and slowly sinking. Beri, in turn, was behind him, muttering to herself about Darien blocking her path.

“Sort of,” said Starlight. “Well…no. Twenty seven percent hydrogen sulfide, eleven percent sulfur dioxide, six percent various nitrogen oxides…the rest is water, noble gasses, and carbon dioxide, with the carbon dioxide being dominant. I didn’t even know they made planets like this.”

“Yup,” said Lyra, looking up through the gnarled and soft-barked alien trees that spread upward into the toxic haze above. “She is definitely here.”

“I do not know what those names mean,” said Darien as Zedok pulled him from the puddle. His face shifted toward a sound as something long with many legs moved through the tree canopy. “But is it safe to breathe? This mask is uncomfort.”

“Hell no,” said Lyra. “The carbon dioxide alone would kill you in one breath. Look.” She held up her hand. “My parts are corroding. And this is my own alloy blend. I’ve never seen this happen before.”

“We should probably hurry up, then,” said Jack. “Right now, we’re like quarians neck-deep in a krogan cesspool. One pinprick and we’re a rotting stain in a suit.”

“Actually, I think this atmosphere would preserve us pretty well,” noted Starlight.

“It probably would be safer to have taken the ‘ship’,” said Zedok. “Not that I’m complaining. Traipsing through a toxic wasteland is definitely my idea of a good time. Clearly.”

“I can’t,” said Starlight. “This place is covered in missile installations. Lots of them.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?” asked Lyra.

“Not to mention the yahg vomit,” added Beri, shivering.

“It’s not his fault!” said Zedok, coming to Darien’s defense. “Yahg are incredibly perceptive, and they don’t deal well with rapid motion. They never even developed atmospheric flight. It has to do with all those eyes.”

Before Zedok could go into detail about the nature of yahg vision- -something that Starlight would actually have been interested if she had had the time to listen- -they came to an area where the forest suddenly broke. The floor of decaying, slimy vegetable matter and roots suddenly gave way to pitted, blackened stone that rose upward into a rocky crag. Prominently visible on the top of the hill was what Starlight immediately thought of as a mansion- -aside from the fact that it was actually just an exorbitantly large aggregation of various prefab buildings joined into a kind of parody of a castle.

“That’s hideous,” said Zedok, approaching Starlight from the side.

“Yeah,” said Jack. “Sjdath has definitely been here.”

Starlight nodded in agreement and started to ascend the hill toward the “building” on the top. There was no true path, and the front was steep and cliff-like, but the back had a much more gentle slope. Starlight still eventually decided to levitate herself, but the others were able to manage the climb adequately.

Finding the door took slightly longer. The prefabs had numerous exits, all of which had been sealed when they had been locked together. Once Starlight saw the main door, though, there was no doubt about its purpose. A large bay door- -the sort that would normally be over a garage- -had been replaced with an enormous dark-colored wooden door, complete with a huge iron knocker in the center.

“It makes me wonder if she’s compensation for something,” said Jack, contemplating the iron ring.

“Probably,” said Starlight. She looked up at it herself. “So. Who wants to knock?”

“If I may,” said Darien, stepping forward. “This device seems to be proportionally better for me.”

Starlight stepped aside. With her biotic abilities, she could easily have moved the heavy ornament herself, but she figured she should let the yagh be useful for something.

Darien wrapped his hand around the knocker, pulled it back, and let it fall. It slammed into the wooden door with great force. There was certainly a sound, and the forest behind them went silent. Despite that, Starlight detected motion behind the door- -but not anything with a biological signature.

The door suddenly shifted, being pushed open from within and revealing the darkness beyond. A figure stepped out of the darkness, and Starlight immediately knew what she had been detecting. The figure was not a female vorcha, but in fact a tall and heavily armored baterian battle android. Its ornate camouflage paintjob was slightly scuffed and painted over with badly matched colors, although the harsh curves of baterian script could still be seen crossing its angular chest.

The droid’s narrow head turned toward the group outside and its various lenses irised inwards, focusing on each one of the being standing outside.

Starlight stepped forward. “We are here to see Sjdath,” she said, somewhat nervously.

The android looked down at her. It paused for a long moment, and then spoke in a heavily accented artificial baterian voice.

“Subjects identified and threat level quantified.” It stepped back and gestured with one long arm toward the dark prefabs beyond. “Please, come with me.”

Starlight looked back at the group, not sure if following the robot was such a good idea- -but Lyra decided for her, pushing past into the structure.”

“I am afraid I will have to stay outside,” said Darien. “The halls in there are too small for me.”

“Are you sure?” said Zekok.

“Yes.” He waved them toward the android. “Besides. The sun will set soon. I really would like to see sunset.”

“Okay,” said Zedok, hesitantly. “But don’t go anywhere. And DON’T remove your helmet. Got that?”

“Yes, boss.”

Zedok followed the others into the structure, and the android closed the door behind them. The room was immediately dark, and Starlight was forced to project a combat drone with an internal light source to act as a lantern. The android did not seem to care; it walked past them into the complex beyond.

The android’s motion was swift and precise, but at the same time unnaturally mechanical and awkward. It was quite obvious that it was powered by a simple VI. It was certainly nowhere near as complicated as a geth or an Alliance synth, but Starlight could assess quality robotics when she saw them. This model was built for combat, and though severely out of date it had been either well preserved or well-maintained before it had ended up here.

From the light of the combat drone, it was possible to see that the internal contents of the prefabs were sparse. Largely, they were empty, save for occasional piles of half-completed machines or large, rusting equipment. The walls were lined with what appeared to be art as well, although the diverse collection was neither expensive nor good-looking. Starlight could not help but wonder what this place smelled like, even if it was impossible to know. Despite the presence of atmosphere seals on the prefab doors and corridors, the air inside was just as toxic as that outside.

“I’ve never seen one of these things in person,” said Beri, observing the combat android. “They haven’t made them in decades.”

“Let me guess,” said Jack. “They’re illegal, right?”

“Everything the baterians do is illegal. At least they’re not the Alliance, though.”

“I don’t like robots,” said Lyra, eyeing the machine suspiciously. “We don’t have them in Equestria, and for good reason.”

“No,” said Starlight. “Instead, you have a population of farm-bred slaves.”

“Slaves bred for extreme docility. Robots? There’s nothing docile about robots.”

“Geth are okay though,” added Zedok. “I like geth.”

The combat drone entered a wide, dark room with an uneven floor and stopped.

“Kommisar Sjdath,” it stated in a pleasant, monotone voice. “Guests have arrived to see you. Should I have them executed as with the last group?”

There was a clicking of clawed feet from the shadows, and Starlight increased the glow of her combat drone. The light fell on a female vorcha in a long skirt approaching, flanked with two more baterian droids. She immediately looked up at the group, her pupils narrowing sharply in the bright light. Her eyes immediately flicked upward toward Starlight, and then Jack.

“No,” she said. “No no no no.” She pointed to them. “You. What the hell are you doing here? Why are you on my planet? Go away! I’m retired!”

“You’re planet?” said Beri, somewhat indignantly.

“Yes my planet.” Sjdath paused. “Wait. I don’t know you. You can kill her.”

“Sjdath,” said Starlight.

Sjdath sighed, taking a deep breath of the toxic atmosphere. “Fine,” she said. “The turian can live.”

“Acknowledged,” said the robot, lurching forward and walking past Sjdath to continue on with whatever duties it had been attending too early.

“Your planet?” said Lyra. “When did that happen?”

“It’s technically a moon,” said Beri.

“When I bought it,” said Sjdath, giving a harsh look at Beri.

“Bought it?” said Jack. “The last time I talked to you, you were buried under debt to Aria. Where did you get enough money to buy a damn planet?”

Sjdath smiled. For starlight, it was somewhat uncomfortable seeing her without the mask that allowed her to breath in oxygen-based atmospheres. Her mouth was terribly wide, with a number of sharp teeth. “You remember that Cerberus agent? The one that broke into my ship and stole Starlight?”

“It’s not something I can forget,” said Starlight, darkly. It was the second worst moment of her life.

“Well, the freak left something behind. Chewed off her own arm to escape. And do you know what was on it? A portable gravity rotor. A mass core the size of a marble. Do you have any idea how much such a thing is worth?”

“A lot?” guessed Zedok.

Sjdath nodded. “And then the gods blessed me a second time. I had offers on it, but took it to auction. Three salarian syndicates, two asari companies, a batarian consortium, and the zetans- -and they got into a bidding war. You know how the salarians are with technology. And on top of it, I sold the arm itself to Binary Helix. Whatever gene-mods Cerberus came up with belong to them now.”

“Wait a minute,” said Jack. “We’re talking about Robette? You know she doesn’t have genetic upgrades, right? She was born like that.”

Sjdath blinked. “Oh. Well. That’s Binary Helix’s problem now, not mine.”

“I take it you paid back Aria, then?” said Starlight.

Sjdath cringed. “Well…we have a repayment plan.”

“And the robots?” asked Zedok.

“Excellent pieces, aren’t they?” said Sjdath, proudly. “I got them on excellent sale. Apparently, one of them went rogue and slaughtered an entire platoon. Problem was, they couldn’t figure out which one. I got them surplus.” Sjdath leaned forward and whispered, pointing at the robot on her left. “I’m pretty sure it was that one!”

She turned and started walking suddenly. Starlight looked at Jack, confused, and they started to follow her.

“Sjdath?” said Starlight. “It’s good to see you.”

“A preface. That is what that is. You want to ask me for something.”

“Yes,” admitted Starlight. “We’re planning a mission, and I need friends that I can trust. And I trust you.”

“I don’t know why,” muttered Beri. “Vorcha are even less trustworthy than humans.”

“Says a member of Saren’s race,” hissed Sjdath. “Is not betrayal a sacred vow for your kind?”

Beri immediately began reaching for her pistol. “How dare you- -”

Without turning around, Sjdath waved her hand. There was a surge of orange light around it as she snapped her fingers, and Beri was immediately thrown into the air by a biotic blast.

Starlight and Jack froze.

“Sjdath…” said Zedok. “Since when can you- -since when can ANY vorcha do that?!”

“Since about a year ago.” Sjdath turned her body slightly and pointed to several spots on her chest, the hardened scars of holes that had been punched through her body five years earlier. She looked up at Lyra. “Part of your gift, I think.”

“That’s my magic,” said Lyra, in awe. “How did you- -”

“Because I am vorcha, and we are the future.” Sjdath looked down at Starlight. The corridor ahead of them had been built with skylights, all of which were overgrown with mold and grime. Despite this, the greenish light of the system’s setting sun still poured through, lighting Sjdath from behind.

“As to your question,” she said. “The answer is: Hell. NO.”

Starlight was taken aback. “But…but why?”

“Because I’m OLD! I was already seven when I first met you. I’m eleven!”

“Come on, Sjdath,” said Jack. “You know that’s a lie, and so do we.”

Sjdath looked at her innocently, and then smirked.

“Sjdath?” said Starlight. “What does she mean.”

“An extension of the pony-Lyra’s gift. My biology? Accelerated. Improved. It’s not just the biotics. My lifespan has been exponentially increased. I could possibly live to forty, fifty, even sixty years. I’m virtually immortal.”

“Just another reason why you shouldn’t breed,” said Beri, standing up slowly.

Sjdath shrugged.

“But then why won’t you come with us?” said Starlight. “I know you can’t fight, but nobody knows physical technology like you do. Not even me. You would really be an asset.”

“Why?” Sjdath pointed at Jack. “Because I know her. There’s a reason why I hired her, and a reason why she was my best mercenary. And anything she’s doing is probably going to cut my immortality quite short.”

“But- -”

“NIET. I’m rich, and I’m retired. I have my planet- -”

“Small moon,” corrected Beri.

“- -and I’m over the whole gallivanting across space. I don’t need to. This is final, Starlight.”

“Oh,” said Starlight, disappointed. “I had been looking forward to working with you again…but okay…”

Sjdath stared at Starlight, and then sighed. “Actually, though, I might have something that can help you.” She put two of her fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly. Due to the somewhat chitinous nature of her body and the acoustics of the strange air, it was an eerie sound.

At first, nothing happened. Then Starlight became aware of a rapid galloping from the skylit hallway behind Sjdath. Carefully, she looked around Sjdath- -only to be tackled by a large quadruped.

“Ack!” cried Starlight, charging her horn for a devastating biotic blast- -only to see that the creature atop her looking down with a single brightly-lit eye.

“The Starlight Glimmer!” said the geth excitedly. “We have missed your presence greatly, and as such we are greeting you with great vigor!”

Starlight looked up, her mind taking a second to process what she was seeing. “Armchair?” she said.

“Indeed. We are.” The geth backed off of Starlight and helped her up. He was comparatively large, being slightly larger than a human, but it was masked by the fact that his body was optimized for walking on four legs. He looked almost like a large, metallic dog, complete with a small tail.

“Armchair…but how…how are you even…what the hell?”

“When I retired,” explained Sjdath, “I didn’t need a ship anymore. Armchair wasn’t ready to leave, I suppose- -”

“So we uploaded ourselves into a mobile platform,” said Armchair. He gestured toward himself. “This design is unique, of our own design. It was inspired by the observed efficiency of your own frame.”

“Um…thank you?”

“You are welcome!”

Starlight looked up about Sjdath. “But…if Armchair’s a…dog?...Then what happened to Arachne?”

Armchair and Sjdath looked at each other. Then Armchair turned his luminescent headlamp toward Starlight. “He is with us.”

“Yes, but where?”

“You misunderstand. He is with us.” Armchair leaned back on his hind legs and pointed with one long finger at a section of his chest that was not made of metal. Starlight moved her combat drone closer- -and saw that a substantial portion of the lower half of his body was made of bioluminescent chitin.

“You- -you didn’t,” said Zedok, looking as though she was about to be sick.

“Arachne is our closest friend,” said Armchair. “And he refused to leave us, even when we were transitioned to a mobile platform. As such, he contributed to our design.”

“Bodily sacrifice is not a major taboo for rachni,” said Sjdath.

“So he’s…he’s in there?”

Armchair nodded. “His neural architecture has been retained and linked to our core processes. He is one of us now, the working equivalent of a geth. This is of great benefit to us. His creativity and intuition are boundless. So many new ideas…and the songs. We can hear their songs. Always, and forever.”

“It’s just a little…disturbing.”

“You’re a living starship engine standing with a pony head in a robotic woman’s body and a hyper-violent biotic weapon,” noted Jack. “If anything, this is less disturbing than anything else we’ve done.”

“Armchair,” said Sjdath. “Starlight wants to go on a mission. I’m not going because I’m not a massive idiot. How do you feel about it?”

“Traveling again?” said Armchair, excited. He turned back to Starlight. “Yes! More experiences are necessary to improve our programing architecture and enable procreation of system processes! We would be glad to help! But we are afraid that we are not a ship anymore. Reconstruction would take…”

“Not a problem,” said Starlight before Armchair could calculate it out. “I have a ship. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” said Sjdath.

“Sort of,” confirmed Jack.

“We also have a yahg,” said Zedok.

“A yahg?” said Sjdath. “Where? You didn’t let it in here, did you? It will mess up the carpet.” She paused. “Armchair, do I have carpet?”

“We do not want to check.”

“Well, either way.” Sjdath waved them away. “Well, go. I have work to do.”

“Work? But I thought you were retired.”

“Retired work. Eating things. Complaining. Slowly fermenting. Perhaps I will lay eggs to spite the turian. Who can say?” She paused, and then seemed to remember something. “And if you see Si’y, tell that cheating ublyudok that if he even gets near my planet again I will bite off ALL of his tentacles this time!”

Everyone in the room who knew both Sjdath and Si’y shuddered, except Lyra- -who apparently had a far stronger constitution than the rest- -and Armchair, who was either to naïve to understand or just did not care.

“Right,” said Starlight. “Will do…”