"Just follow my lead and no-one gets hurt, simple as that!"

She laughs as she talks with both Soarin and Fairway. My teeth clench behind closed lips. Lightning Dust volunteered to be first—she says for the safety of our non-crew members, but I know it's because she likes to lead. Years back, she'd be in my position, but to be the best, you have to beat the best and she didn't. She laments being under my command, I can tell, but I let her have her small victories. My jaw loosens and I have to remind myself.

She deserves it. Everyone on-board deserves something like that once in a while.

I roll my eyes as she fits herself snugly into her spacesuit. The reflective glare of her helmet—my headlamp forces me to turn away. Her, Spitfire and me are geared up. Just waiting on the others, now.

Soarin, our coordinator, and Lightning Dust have their thing going on—by thing, he's playing her and she doesn't even know. He's standing off beside his newest interest, which leads us to Fairway. Don't know much, if anything about her. Engimatic as she is suave with the stallions. Certainly has Soarin wrapped up in her hoof and LD doesn't even know it. Fairway, the auburn pegasus, giggles at something he says. "Sometime today, ladies." I state, my eyes meeting Soarin's.

He salutes and gives a bashful grin as he starts climbing into his gear. Fairway laughs this time and I give another roll of my eyes. Some mares can be so obnoxious.

At least Bigs is immune to her charms.

Speaking of obnoxious, Lightning looks at me and I cast a glance back in her direction. "Just because you're leading the trot doesn't mean you'll be leading the mission, LD," I look away, ignoring her decidedly pointed glare. I scan the rest of the room, all eyes on me. "Now, everyone packed and ready to go? Since their comms are down, that bars landing in their import/export hub. Space trot is the only other option we have," I pull my visor down, sighing silently as it hisses shut. "Unless any of you want to Supermane over there, be my guest. Any takers?" They all shake their head without a response. I smirk behind my helmet. "LD is lead. Making sure our line connects safely. The nearby airlock we will be entering from is hundred fifty meters away, so it's up to her not to get us killed immediately upon exiting the Wonderbolt. Once she makes the connection, we follow suit." Silence looms over the decompression chamber. "Any questions?" Not like I need to ask; everyone stands quietly in their spacesuits.

They all seem content with the mission given to us, all save for Spitfire. Her brow furrowed, my mouth opens and closes as I try and word my thoughts. They struggle to come out, "Spitfire, I know you're suited up, but your job is too important here. Can't have Bigs all by himself, can I?" I jest, but she is still less than amused. I sigh, "you need to mare the ship. I know you want to get out there and do some good, but you'll be doing plenty of that making sure our ship stays near port."

She remains silent for a minute. Shaking her head, she starts: "Cap, as much good as you think I can do here, I can do better out there. Bigs is a big stallion, he can handle the ship if she starts straying. I'm coming with."

"The Princess would be a lot safer if we actually had a ship for her to return on. You-" she interrupts me, her hoof stamps on the ground once like a foal's.

"Captain, I'm going. You may have authority, but she's still my ship. If I can trust Bigs, you can too," her eyes soften and I mentally pull at my collar as she continues, "he knows this damned iron coffin better than anyone I know. You trust me? You trust him, too."

. . . . .

Bigs, taking a coffee break in his put-together-with-wires-and-welding domicile, stares mutedly through his viewing window at the ship's damaged... nonexistent radio-satellite

Well, that certainly explains the communications issue for Bigs.

He takes a sip of his coffee, the warm bitter liquid trailing down his throat as his sip turns to a quaff. He pulls the now-emptied mug away from his drenched lips. "Eeyufuck."

. . . . .

Dammit, why did she have to so good with words? Maybe she should have been promoted. I shake my head clear of the idle thought and turn away from the goldenrod mare. "Mother, tell Bigs he'd better keep us near port." A small cheer of victory behind me sounds and I smile slightly without turning back. "Everyone ready?" The stiffening of bodies in suits sounds and I look over to our Co-Pilot. "Lightning Dust, lead on." I nod at her and she looks between both me and the decompression button before pressing it.

An audible click, and that's when the hissing starts. Oxygen bleeds out from the chamber. White, visible air moving at a speed nearly incomprehensible is sucked through the decompression chamber's vacuum. The filter keeping hold, the lights dim to a low red, signalling it best we keep our helmets on. The airlock opens, and seeing as we aren't all shredded alive immediately, we stare at our–or rather, Lightning Dust's destination.

"Y'know," Lightning quips with an almost audible gulp, even through the void of space. "Hundred-fifty metres looks a lot further away than I thought."

Author's Note

A goddamn sub-chapter, really Tact?

Yeah, m'world building

I'll edit in the morning. For now, shitposting.