Mass Core 3: Thebe Paridigm

In the dream, Scootaloo was walking. Around her, she saw the familiar sight of the Temple of Harmony. She felt her hooves clicking across the newly installed marble floor, smiling and occasionally laughing. She was truly happy.

She looked up at the pony beside her: a white-maned blue unicorn, her hair and starry Priestess robes worn in such a way as to conceal the expensive protruding cybernetic implants imbedded in her spine and skull.

The emotion changed slightly when Scootaloo saw her. It was happiness, but more powerful. She was not sure if there was a word for it, but the way that the blue unicorn’s smile made her feel was far more powerful than any contentment she could recall having known.

Then the slight, shy smile on the mare’s face faded, and her violet eyes drifted past Scootaloo and toward something ahead of them. Scootaloo slowly turned, and the castle surrounding her seemed to change with every degree her head tilted. It became darker, bleaker, and larger, its classical architecture giving way to a mush harsher set of lines and curves.

Sitting before her on the edge of the shadows was a small box made from dark, nearly black wood. Scootaloo hesitated, and then approached it slowly, leaving the blue unicorn behind. The box made her profoundly uneasy, but not because it was new and strange. She recognized it, and she knew what the contents were- -but she could not recall what, precisely, was in it, or where it had come from.

Scootaloo stopped at the box. For a moment, she paused, and then reached down and grasped the edge of the lid, lifting it gently. Inside it was a weapon, a strangely shaped and anomalous firearm set next to a singular bullet.

Confused, Sclootaloo looked back at Trixie- -only to see the blue mare’s skin peeling away from her body and her skeletal, burned face twisted into an expression of agony, save for her eyes. Those continued to stare at Scootaloo, and seeing them, Scootaloo felt her heart breaking.

She awoke screaming, but stopped herself almost immediately. She did not know where she was, at first, but she kept calm until the memories of her life began coming back to her. A bright spot formed in the room beside her.

“Captain?” said Inte, even before her holographic body had fully materialized. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” said Scootaloo. “Just a dream.”

“Oh. So you are not dying?”

“I sure hope not.” Scootaloo pulled back the thin, metallic emergency blanket covering her. She stood, and almost cried out from the extreme stiffness. Her rear right leg was especially painful, and she looked down to see that it had been bandaged.

“If you would recall,” said Inte, “you did get shot.”

“Oh, I recall,” said Scootaloo, wincing as she gingerly tried to use her now rather swollen leg. “It’s hard not to recall getting shot in the leg.”

“Do you need any morphine?”

“You have morphine?” asked Scootaloo.

“No. Why would I have that?”

Scootaloo sighed. “I’m fine,” she said. “But thank you for asking.”

Inte smiled, and then her hologram faded as she retreated back into the ship’s systems. Scootaloo then walked past where Inte had been standing toward the door. She appeared to have been sleeping in a small, unfinished room. It looked like it had been meant to serve as crew quarters, or perhaps a storage area. Nothing in Inte’s ship was complete, so it was impossible to know.

Scootaloo exited, pausing for a moment, trying to determine if the ship was in flight or docked. The engine, it seemed, was amazingly quiet, and the ship had absolutely no vibration or noise whatsoever. It was perfectly silent. Yet, somehow, Scootaloo still knew that she was in space. She chalked it down to the instinct of an old naval commander, something she was surprised to find herself having at her relatively young age.

That thought, though, led to a strange realization: if the ship was flying, Scootaloo was not flying it.

“Scootaloo?” said a voice from the far end of the central corridor. Scootaloo turned to see Six walking toward her. “I see you’re awake. Are you feeling okay?”

Scootaloo gestured toward her bandaged leg. “I assume you did this?”

“Yes. Among other things. Your body is in terrible condition. I’m amazed…well, no, it is YOU so I’m not all that amazed- -that you made it this far. You need to go easy. And, also, avoid getting shot.”

“What about you?” said Scootaloo, suddenly remembering their narrow escape from the unnamed planet tethered to Omega. “You got hit in the wing!”

Six smiled sheepishly and then turned her body, showing where one of her large alicorn wings was bandaged. “Indeed. It hurt like a proverbial dicken.”

“How bad is it?” said Scootaloo, trotting to Six’s side to inspect the damaged appendage. She cringed slightly upon seeing it; as a Pegasus, she knew how sensitive wings were. Even her own atrophied, useless wings were an important part of her body that she was proud of. Being winged was a humiliating injury.

“It is fine,” said Six. “As an alicorn, I have found that I am substantially more durable than most ponies. It would take a great deal of effort to injure me permanently. I will be flying within a day or so.” She looked down at Scootaloo with a concerned expression. Scootaloo almost shivered at how similar Six looked to Twilight. That made sense, of course, considering Six and her sisters’ origins, but it was still strange to see those eyes looking at her that way. “You, though? You will not heal as quickly. You need to be careful, Scootaloo.”

“It’s not my fault they were shooting at me.”

“I should hope not.” Six sighed, and started walking toward the observation area that Scootaloo had coopted as a bridge. “You should go back to bed.”

“I don’t want to. Not right now,” said Scootaloo, following Six. Despite her size, Six did not move quickly.

Upon seeing Scootaloo’s insistnace, Six smiled. “Well…it would be good to have company. You can help me with the final diagnostics I need to run.”

“Diagnostics? On what? Not me, I hope.”

“Oh no. Not you. I’ve already run all the diagnostics I needed to on you. I mean on your quant.”

“My…you mean Inte?”

Six nodded, and pointed behind her. “That was where I was just now. I was attempting to sever your quant’s recall connection. That is, quants usually synch with higher-tier quants via quantum tunneling. When they have questions and such, or need updates. It is not preferable when you want to be hiding.”

“Wait…you mean they can track Inte? Why didn’t she- -”

“No,” said Six. “They can’t. That was the strange part. Well, one of them. She was already set not to synchronize or call for updates. She’s already running on isolation mode.”

“Strange? What else did you find?”

“Well, for one, the quant on this ship is massive. As in the kind you would normally find on a hub-dreadnaught.”

“I don’t know what that is, Six. I’ve been frozen. For a while.”

“Ah. It’s an incredibly large space vessel that houses an extremely powerful quant mainframe. Their purpose is to control and oversee hundreds or even thousands of smaller ships. Seeing one installed in a scout ship like this? It’s almost inconceivable. I can only gather that this vessel was custom built. For some reason.”

“So this isn’t a normal ship? It’s a hub?”

“No, that’s just it. It’s not. The quant isn’t optimized for that. It’s almost…” Six paused, trying to think of a word. “It’s like she’s incomplete. Unfinished, maybe. The part you’re interacting with is just a front-partition, like an ordinary ship-quant. But the backend? There’s things going on in there that I can’t even understand.”

The air on front of six flashed, and Inte’s hologram appeared. “Excuse me,” she said, sounding annoyed. “Did you just say I have a big back end?”

“Oh, my gersh,” said Six, stopping and poking Scootaloo on the shoulder excitedly. “I hadn’t been able to get her to project, but- -she is just ADORABLE!”
` Inte suddenly smiled. “Captain Scootaloo has set my physical appearance to ‘Loli Earth Pony, Green with Yellow Highlights’.”

“What- - no! No I didn’t!”

“I love it! Say, Inte, was it? Can you do a Pegasus? One with very fluffy wings?”

“I can,” said Inte. “If Scootaloo authorizes it.”

“No!” cried Scootaloo. “I’m not authorizing anything!”

“You’re right,” said Six. “There’s just something about earth-ponies. Such sleek, simple, supple bodies.”

Inte paused and looked up at Six before turning to Scootaloo. “She’s a bit of a lesbian, isn’t she?”

“Why don’t I take you to the back of the ship and we find out?” said Six.

“No, thank you. I do not have a concierge module installed.”

“That’s okay. I can teach you if you want.”

Inte’s eyes widened and she took a step back. “No. That is okay. I have…things to do. Namely purging the other alicorn out of my ventilation system. Have to go!”

With that, her hologram vanished.

“That was…uncomfortable,” sighed Scootaloo. She looked up at Six, who was smiling broadly. “How did she hear us, though?”

“How? She always hears us. Anywhere and everywhere, all the time. It’s how quants are made.”

“That’s creepy.”

“Not really,” said Six, starting toward the observation area again. “She’s a quant. They’re just programming, after all.”

Together, they entered the observation deck. Scootaloo took her seat in the center and opened her command interface. From behind her, she heard Six laugh.

“What?” she said.

“I- -I can’t believe it,” said Six. “I’m sorry, it’s just that…you’re on an Equestrian ship. With a quant and everything. The most advanced piloting system in the known universe, and you had it build a manual interface. To fly by hoof.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” asked Scootaloo, defensively.

“Oh,” said Six, looking surprised. “I- -I didn’t mean to be insulting, it’s just that…It’s something I could imagine you doing.” She opened her omnitool and began running her diagnostics. “But I suppose I hardly knew you, didn’t I?”

“I think we know each other pretty well,” said Scootaloo. “I mean, I consider you a friend.”

Six looked somewhat surprised, but then pretended to cough to hide her blushing. “Well…yes. Thank you. Although I’m afraid that, if I have been your friend, I have not been a very good one.”

“I was just getting chased by a literal horde of bounty hunters, and you and Seven dropped everything you were doing and risked your own lives to help me without even hesitating. If that’s not a sign of a good friend, I’m not sure what would be.”
“No, but…” Six paused, and then closed her omnitool. “I thought you were dead.”
“So did I,” said Scootaloo. “I mean, I’ve been frozen. You couldn’t have known- -”

“No. You remember, don’t you? The last time we met. I gave you a flower. That…that aws the last time I saw you. Our mother said you were dead, and I just believed her. Like an idiot.”

Scootaloo did remember. “And if I remember, Seven was very, very badly injured.”

“Yes. She still cannot use her biotics. I reconfigured her neural pathways for tech, but…” She trailed off. “And my older sister. Four. Four almost died. I got so caught up in it, I didn’t even bother to go back for you. Or to check on you.”

“You couldn’t have known, Six.”

“No. I could have. And I should have. I…I…” She paused again, and seemed to change her subject. She looked into Scootaloo’s eyes. “You know, I still thought about you. All this time. You left an impression on me, I suppose. It was getting less and less often, but sometimes…sometimes I would remember. And not once did I try to find you.”

“Well, I’m here now.”

“I’ve been with other ponies since you,” blurted out Six, blushing.

Scootaloo paused, feeling the atmosphere go silent with awkwardness. She wished for a moment that Inte had not hidden herself away, just to distract from what Six had just said.

“Well,” said Scootaloo, “that’s okay. I mean, it’s been, what, almost three hundred years? And mares have needs. We’re not made to keep going without love. I mean, look at me. I even went and got married.”

Scootaloo suddenly froze, and Six’s eyes almost bugged out of her face.

“Married?” said Six. “You…you got married?”

Scootaloo slowly nodded. “I…I did,” she said, recalling without a doubt that that fact was true.

“To whom?”

Scootaloo opened her mouth to respond, but to her horror realized that she could not answer the question. “I…I don’t remember,” she said. She felt her eyes starting to water. Something was wrong. The memory was scrambled; she could remember the love she felt for another pony, but not the pony’s name. Not even what she looked like- -and to have forgotten a pony she loved so dearly was heartbreaking.

“Something’s wrong with me,” she said, wiping away the tears. “Parts of my life, they’re missing. I remember becoming a Priestess, but then…it gets hazy. I don’t remember my life, or being frozen, or even why.”

“It’s okay,” said Six, stepping forward and taking Scootaloo’s hoof. “It’s okay.”

“How is this possibly okay?!” snapped Scootaloo. “I can’t even remember my own wife!”

“What I mean is, this is temporary,” said Six. “At least, most likely it is. Your entire body was ravaged by extended cryostasis. Your lungs, muscles, and your brain. It’s a miracle you’re even alive right now. The memories will come back, but slowly. It will take time.”

“I hope so,” said Scootaloo, wondering whether or not that assertion was in fact a lie.

Despite having once been a Captain in the Equestrian Royal Navy, Scootaloo’s knowledge of the Milk-Path galaxy was profoundly lacking. Six, however, seemed to know the galaxy quite well, and although Scootaloo was somewhat ashamed of her own perceived inadequacy, she was glad that she had friends who could help her.

The planet that Six had brought her to was distant and obscure. From what Scootaloo understood, it was located in an extreme backwater in an region of the galaxy that simply had not been colonized due to its lack of mass-relays in antiquity. With the advent of mass-jumping, the relays had become obsolete, but even then nobody had bothered to come.

One planet, at least, appeared to be at least marginally occupied. Amongst its rocky surface and planes, there were several discreet landing pads and crumbling pathways linking them to an unseen hub. This was where Scootaloo found herself, walking along one of these paths with her ship parked behind her and Six and Seven on either side of her.

From above, the unnamed word had appeared to be mostly a kind of dark rust color. From the ground, though, the color seemed deeper and less pleasant. Far in the distance, Scootaloo could see a long and wide shore that led to a distant, muddy ocean. The dark colored soil of the landscape was dotted with sparse beds of plants that could best be described as unusually large moss, leading up to the rocky and mostly lifeless mountains where the landing areas had been assembled.

“Wow,” said Scootaloo. “This place is…pleasant.”

“Indeed,” said Six. “The foliage does have a delicate aspect to it.” She paused. “Yes, I know she was being sarcastic,” she said to Seven. Then, to Scootaloo, “at least the atmosphere is breathable. Plenty of argon.”

Scootaloo looked at the pair of alicorns beside her, somewhat amused. They both dwarfed her; Six was physically larger, but Seven was dressed in thick pony armor that made her physically much more intimidating than she would have been nude. “So,” said Scootaloo. “Are you two…you know…”

“Sexually involved? Not usually, no.”

“Eew. Not what I was going to ask.”

“Oh. Then what?”

“Are you telepathic?”

Six blinked, confused, and then the pair of them laughed. “Telepathic? No, of course not. We’re sisters!” They looked at each other, with Seven appearing to smile slightly despite her excessive number of teeth. “We’ll…we’re actually genetically identical. Closer to twins. We just tend to know what we’re thinking.”

“Damn,” said Scootaloo. “I wish having a relationship with my sister had been that easy.” She frowned after saying that, realizing that it made her profoundly sad.

“We don’t have a good relationship with ALL of our sisters,” muttered Six, absently.

“What are the others doing, actually?” asked Scootaloo, trying to distract herself from the now irresistible desire to think about Rainbow Dash.

“Oh,” said Six, her attention turning back to the conversation. “Well, Nine is mostly into mercenary work these days. We hire her in from time to time. Eight…collects things. And Four has a super-cushy job in the Alliance Navy. I hope you don’t mind, but I used your quant to send an encrypted transmission to them. Eight and Nine might show up, but I doubt Four will.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” said Scootaloo.

“No, I didn’t. But they’d be glad to see you, I think. And with the depth you seem to have lodged yourself in, excuse my French, crottin de chevel, we’re going to need as much help as we can get.”

The planet’s greenish-hued seemed to dim as the trio stepped into the shadow of a large, almost monolithic mountain. Several holes had been cut into it, forming tunnels for the various landing paths to enter it. The holes were lit by strings of dirty, inadequate work lights, and Scootaloo hesitated as she approached. Six and Seven entered without pause, though, save for a brief moment when Seven turned back to Scootaloo and gave a small nod. Relying on her confidence in the pair’s intentions, Scootaloo followed.

“What exactly is this place?” asked Scootaloo.

“Self-storage,” replied Six.

The path quickly terminated into a large, round cavern that appeared to be only partly artificial. The majority of it was filled with a substantial amount of equipment, mostly large humming engines and pipes that seemed to emerge from the solid stone of the walls. Almost all of it connected to a large and slightly rusted central tank that was emitting a sickly blue-green light through a thick and extremely grimy porthole.

Six approached the tank and pounded on the side with her hoof. The sound of the clanging was substantial, but as soon as she stopped Scootaloo heard loud swearing and something moving from inside.

“What do you want?” called an amplified voice. From its echo and distortion, Scootaloo found herself believing it was from inside the tank. Just as she began to doubt this, she saw a shadow move behind the porthole and a three-fingered hand wipe away the condensation from the far side, smearing the greasy dirt instead of wiping it off. A distorted and grotesque face peered through.

“Silin, it’s me,” said Six, positioning herself in front of the window.

There was a sharp, gurgling inhale from inside. “Delilah of Earth-Clan,” said the occupant. His beady eyes shifted to Seven. “And Sven of Earth-Clan. Also unknown individual of Horse-Clan.”

“She is a guest,” said Six.

Silin paused. “And this is business, then?”

“When isn’t it with you?”

“Ha! When the human Earth-Clan were alive, they said ‘time is money’. They were not smart, but they were right on some things. My time is always worth money. Your money.”

“I just came to check on my ship,” said Six. “The contract does include that, doesn’t it?”

“It…might…”

“Oh,” said Six, appearing discouraged. “Well, I really need to see my ship. So I’m willing to negotiate a price.”

“Ah! Yes, negation is always welco- -”

Six suddenly smiled, bearing her pointed teeth. She stepped aside, and Seven stepped forward. “So for that I will need to connect you to my financial department.”

There was a gasp from inside the tank, and Scootaloo saw the cloudy figure blanch. “Ah, no! Hold, please!” He vanished for a moment and then returned. “I have reviewed the contract. Yes, you are free to enter.”

Behind the tank, the holographic indicator on a heavy door shifted color. A second later, there were several loud clanks as the door’s locking mechanism disengaged. Then it slowly opened with a horrid grinding, squeaking sound.

“Thank you,” said Six. “I do love doing the kind of business that doesn’t involve puncturing things.”

She curtly stepped past the tank, and Scootaloo heard the occupant swearing in an alien language, at which point Six promptly retorted in the same language. Scootaloo and Seven then followed her.

“So,” said Scootaloo, once they were past the tank. “You go by Delilah now?”

“I can,” said Six. “I do like that name. It sounds pretty. But you can still call me ‘Six’ if you want.”

“And Seven chose…Sven?”

Seven blushed slightly, seeming embarrassed.

“I think it’s an excellent name,” said Six. “Imposing. Masculine.”

Seven jabbed her in the shoulder.

“Well, you definitely frightened that guy,” said Scootaloo.

“Oh, of course. She even scares me. Do you know why?”

Scootaloo was mildly intrigued. “Why?”

Six stopped and leaned close to Scootaloo, then whispered in her ear. “Because Seven…ate Nine!”

It took a second for Scootaloo to get the joke, but as soon as she did, she groaned loudly, along with Seven in her nearly silent raspy voice. Six laughed. “Oh come on, that was funny!”

“No. No it wasn’t. How long were you waiting to use that one?”

“Over two hundred years. Finally!” She paused. “And, by the way, she really has ‘eaten’ Nine. We both have. So to speak. She makes such adorable sounds when we do.”

“I know. I was there for that part.” She looked up at Seven, who seemed somewhat embarrassed by the mention of her relationship with her youngest sister. “But it does work. The short hair, the omnitools. You have a real strong-silent vibe. I bet the mares are lining up for you.”

“Stallions,” corrected Six. “And to be honest, she has the worst luck with them. I keep telling her to forego the mask and actually talk to them. She has a lovely singing voice, actually. Nobody is going to judge her for her.”

“Well, it is her choice. And she looks damn cool.”

Seven blushed slightly. For a moment, she looked like she was about to speak, but she paused, considering it for a moment, and then remained silent.

The scenery was starting to change around them. They were located in a cavern that appeared to be a continuation of the one where the area’s proprietor lived, although it became much larger the deeper they progressed into it. On either side, Scootaloo saw deep natural crevices that seemed to be largely stacked with vehicles. There were many types, although most of them consisted of smallish shuttlecraft and wheeled vehicles. A particularly popular model was a flattened, six-wheeled military vehicle. None of them were in good condition- -they were filled with holes, rusted, or beaten severely in various ways- -but they, like the various vehicles around them, appeared to be in good condition.

This wide, low-ceilinged area of the cave suddenly gave way to a much larger area. Scootaloo looked up and gasped. The area was breathtakingly enormous: an enormous cylindrical room stretching up farther than she could see, its walls lined completely with hundreds of starships.

“Celestia’s rump,” she swore. “There’s an entire fleet here! What is this place?”

“As I said, self-storage. For ships, vehicles, and the like. And by ‘the like’ I mean that if you pay Silin enough, he doesn’t ask questions.”

“These aren’t all yours.”

“What? No, of course not! I’m not nearly that wealthy. Most of them are from private collections, salvage, or they’re just waiting here until their original owners stop looking for them. I own one ship here.” She looked into the darker areas of the room, squinting, and then pointed. “It’s up there.”

“I already have a ship,” said Scootaloo.

“With me? Aw!” Six laughed at her own joke. “No, but being serious, I know that. Just trust me on this.” She advanced forward, and whispered to Seven. “No! That doesn’t count as sexual harassment! It was a joke- -no! I didn’t mean it like- -will you let me get a word in?!”

Her language quickly decayed into a rapid clicking language that Scootaloo could not understand as the three of them walked to a large circular pad. Six and Seven stepped onto it, and Scootaloo followed.

“Mind the edge,” said Six, opening the holographic controls on one end of the platform. “Railing are apparently expensive.”

The circular pad began to shudder, and then suddenly started moving upward quickly, guided by a rail installed in the wall and propelled by a mass-effect field. The initial inertia was almost crushing, and Scootaloo slipped on her weakened rear leg. She would have fallen completely had Six not stabilized her with a glowing pink-violet field of magic.

The acceleration quickly stabilized, though, and Scootaloo looked over the edge at the rapidly vanishing ground. It made her somewhat nervous to be that high off the ground, and she found herself edging back to the center of the elevator.

“Always elevators,” complained Six. “I don’t know what it is about these designers, they just LOVE elevators. And elevator music.” She turned to Seven. “Speaking of music, or rather the act of listening, I’m getting a little nervous about the perimeter. This place is unusually quiet.”

Seven nodded, and her tech-visor flashed as her left omnitool ignited, spawning a trio of spherical orange sensor drones that clicked and muttered in a strange and distorted language all their own. Seven then stepped backward off the edge of the platform. Scootaloo watched her drop and then spread her violet wings, soaring across the vast room and into the shadows on the far side, one of her drones in close pursuit while the others travelled outward, searching.

“Wow,” said Scootaloo, admiring Seven’s smooth flight and long, powerful wings. “I seriously wish I could do that.”

“Eh,” said Six, “I think it’s overrated.”

“Are you saying that to make me feel better?”

“Because you can’t fly? No. I just find it tiring, and there are far more fun things to do on the ground.”

“I think it’s a cultural thing,” mused Scootaloo. “Pegasi are meant to fly. It’s in our blood.”

“Noted,” said Six, looking upward toward their destination. Scootaloo did as well, but the ceiling was still far out of her range of vision and they were continuing to rise quickly toward their unseen goal.

“You know,” said Scootaloo, “I actually was kind of wondering. What is it exactly that you and Seven do?”

“What? Oh!” said Six, clearly having not realized that Scootaloo did not now. “We’re middlemen!”

“Um…is that actually a job?”

“Yes. People come to us when they want things, and we connect them to the people that can get them. It protects the buyer and the seller, especially when either party requires…discretion.”

“So it’s not exactly a legal sort of job, is it?”

Six winced. “Well…it depends on your definition of ‘law’. But, yes. We get people what they need when they need it, regardless of what it is.” She paused. “Except information. That’s the Shadow Broker’s domain, and she just HATES competition.” Six looked back up toward their destination. “I really hope that doesn’t change your impression of me.”

“You do realize that when I met you, you were a cannibalistic mercenary, right? And I’m still here.” Scootaloo sighed. “To be honest, I actually feel kind of bad that I messed up your business. I mean, I just barged in like that- -”

Six waved dismissively. “Don’t worry about that. The office was a front. And aside from that, we were considering relocating anyway. Seven keeps pushing for Illium, but I’ve had my eye on a nice station in the Verge.”

“But I still made a huge mess for you. And I don’t even think I can pay- -”

“Scootaloo. It is not a problem. I like you. Seven likes you. We don’t have many friends, and you are one of them. I’m always willing to help a friend.”

Scootaloo was touched. She had only met Six and her siblings once, and it was what for them must have been a long, long time ago. The fact that they were still willing to help her was nothing short of miraculous. Had they not been so kind, Scootaloo would have been in a far more desperate situation.

“Oh, there it is!” said Six, excitedly pointing. Scootaloo followed the direction indicated by Six’s hoof. When she saw the ship that Six was pointing at, she hardly shared in the alicorn’s excitement.

“That’s your ship?” she said, trying not to sound insulting. It was difficult not to, though. It was a wreck. Scootaloo figured that at one point, it had been some kind of swooping, elegant frigade. Part of the long, curved fuselage remained, as did a fragment of one of its small delta-like wings. The rest, though, was either missing completely or had been incompletely rebuilt amongst the wreckage of what was quite clearly a charred and ruined ship.

“Do you like it?” said Six as the platform came to a stop.

“I’m not going to lie,” said Scootaloo. “That is only just barely a starship. It’s about one stiff breeze away from being NOT a starship.”

“What, you don’t recognize it?” Six stepped onto the landing dock where the wreck was located and gestured up at it. “This is the ACTUAL SR1 Normandy!”

Scootaloo looked up at it. “Is that name supposed to mean something?”

“Well…no. Not to you, as an Equestrian. But this ship has extraordinary historical value. It belonged to Commander Shepard. In fact he died in it. The first time, anyway.” She tapped on the rusted and carbonized hull with a hoof. “I mean, it’s no SR2, and whoever tried to restore it did a terrible job.”

“Where did you even get this thing?” asked Scootaloo.

“Oh. Funny story. Eight used to have it, but she eventually gave up on collecting ships. I mean, aside from the SR2. Not really her thing.” She passed around to the side of the ship and levitated herself to a boxy and metallic airlock that was clearly not part of the origional ship.

“Six, does this thing even fly?” asked Scootaloo, shaking her head.

“What? No, of course not. There’s no engine.”

“Then what in the wide, wide worlds of Equestria do we need it for?” Scootaloo shook her head. “I have a ship. You know, one that WORKS.”

“I know. Which is why we didn’t get one of my WORKING ships.” Six reached out with her magic and levitated Scootaloo to the airlock. “Just follow me. I’m sure you will enjoy this.”

Six opened the airlock and entered the severely damaged corridors of the ship. Most of them did not match the sleek exterior of the ship at all, and it was immediately clear that the only parts of whatever ship this had once been were, largely, the outer hull. What few parts of the inside that remained had been badly gutted by fire, with streaks of long-solidified molten material running down the twisted and partially rebuilt wreckage of the halls. It smelled bad, too, but only subtly. Even after centuries since it had been destroyed, it still smelled like plasma fire and ash. It was the smell of a dead ship, and it made Scootaloo shiver.

They quickly reached what had clearly once been the bridge. It was the area that had been the most restored, but it was also the area of the ship that made Scootaloo the most uncomfortable. The chairs on either end of it were wrecked, and the scaffolding that supported the floor was exposed. It still held the original shape of the room, but was twisted and broken. Scootaloo came from a naval background, and she understood the significance of a ship in this condition. This was not a decommissioned derelict; the Normandy had died in battle, and Scootaloo knew that a number of sailors had lost their lives on this very bridge.

“This…this isn’t right,” said Scootaloo. “We’re being disrespectful. We shouldn’t be here. Nobody should be here.”

Six looked at her, her expression a cross between confusion and amusement. “Again, a cultural difference, I suppose. My mother was a scrap harvester before she joined Cerberus. To me, this is just metal. And the dead are just food.” She stepped up to the top most portion of the bridge.
“What are you doing?”
“Just watch.”

Six directed her horn toward the warped area where the starchart or controls must once have been. Scootaloo walked beside her, and to her surprise heard several mechanical sounds clicking from deep below the restored metal bottom of the device. Then, to her even greater surprise, what had previously looked like generic flat metal irised open, revealing the mechanical locks that Six had opened with her magic.

From within the hole rose an object. Upon seeing the shiny, violet-blue surface, Scootaloo momentarily forgot about the ghost ship around her.

“That’s- -that’s Crystal Empire crystal,” she gasped, staring at the enormous box.

Six smiled. “I know. This container could survive a planetary detonating if I needed it to. Even better, it blocks scanning. Silin thinks I’m storing a rare antique ship, but the ship- -though historically valuable- -is a cover.”

She charged her horn again, and the crystalline mechanisms in the center of the box began to move in response to her carefully controlled magic. It was almost resizing to watch; Six’s magic was incredibly accurate and measured, perhaps even more so than the actual Twilight Sparkle’s.

The box shifted and opened, and a system of racks expanded from inside. The internal shelving was mostly metal, but even just its veneer was made of more crystal than Scootaloo had ever seen. The case alone must have been worth a fortune. The contents, though, were even more impressive.

It was filled with weapons. There were guns, armor, and supplies of every sort.

“You were just hiding all this? Out here? In the middle of nowhere?”

“I’m hiding a lot of things in a lot of middles of nowhere. Nowheres. Hmm.” Six approached the box and removed several items with her magic. “Right…first, let’s get you some clothes.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because your tail is cropped so short I can see your lady bits.”

Scootaloo raised an eyebrow. “You were looking?”

Six blushed and sputtered. “N- -no! Of course not! I just- -I didn’t- -”

“Six, relax,” said Scootaloo. “I was joking. It’s not like it’s anything you haven’t seen before. I don’t mind. Besides, I am pretty hot.”

“Well- -yes, in a- -objective sense, purely, of course- -I- -” Six cleared her throat. “Oh, also this,” she said, removing a small hexagonal device from the case. “Shields. We’ll both need them. You can have this one. It’s apparently very good.”

“Really?” said Scootaloo, taking a bundle of pony-sized clothing and the shield generator. “How good?”

“Well, it used to belong to an Alliance soldier before Nine offed him. And the Alliance makes the very best shields.”

“Clearly,” said Scootaloo. Six did not seem to pick up on the sarcasm.

“Also, hold out your left hoof.”

Scootaloo looked up at Six, confused, and Six nodded, gesturing for Scootaloo to do it. Scootaloo did. The next thing she knew, Six had pressed a large device to her arm. There was a hiss and a sudden intense pain.

“BUCK!” cried Scootaloo, pulling her arm back. “What the HELL?!” She looked down at her limb. Just above her hoof was the still-smoking remains of a rather large hole. She realized that the thing that Six was holding was an automatic needle of nontrivial size. “SIX?!”

“Hold on. It takes a few seconds…and there it goes.”

Scootaloo looked down at her arm and saw the space around it begin to flicker with orange light. At first, it was not entirely clear, but then it slowly resolved into an omnitool.

“You are going to need that,” said Six. “Sorry about the pain. It smarts, I know. Seven literally bit me when I put in her second one. Yours is decent quality, and it will do for now. You may feel a bit itchy as it interfaces with your nervous system.”

“Smarts- -that wasn’t a ‘smart’! You could have at least warned me!”

“But then you would have resisted.” Six turned back to the case and continued to rummage through the various firearms and weapons in it.

“I have no idea how to use this,” said Scootaloo, barely managing to flick her omnitool closed. “I need a gun.”

“I’m looking…I don’t know if I have anything your size.”

“It doesn’t help that half your stuff is made for unicorns,” said Scootaloo, picking up a rifle that was clearly optimized either for someone with hands or with telekinesis.

“No, I have some pony weapons. Good ones, too. There’s some good equipment coming off Dekuuna these days; the elcor really know how to build to quadrupeds. The thing is, it’s all too heavy for you…”

Six’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Oh! I forgot I had this here!” she leaned back out of the pile of weapons with a small polymer box held in her magic.

“What is it?” asked Scootaloo.

“It’s a special set of pony armor! I originally had it made for Nine, but she refused to use it. She said it was ‘too integrated’ and ‘too techy’ and that it slowed down her recharge time. Which, for her, means it GAVE her a recharge time. Nine wasn’t much larger than you at the time, I think it might just fit…”

She placed the box on the floor and opened it. Scootaloo could not see the contents clearly, but she saw Six remove the dark, opaque faceplate for the helmet. For some reason, Scootaloo shuddered.

“Here, take a look,” said Six, passing the plate to Scootaloo. Scootaloo hesitated, but took it after a moment. Something about it was intriguing, as if she had seen it before somewhere.

The mask reacted almost immediately to her touch. A luminescent white circle instantaneously formed in the center of the dark mask, and then flitted about before settling on Scootaloo, staring at her like an eye. It was at that moment that Scootaloo recognized this mask and the armor it was associated with. She jumped back in horror and threw the mask away.

“Where- -where the HELL did you get that?!” she shrieked.

Six appeared taken aback and horribly confused. “I- -I had it commissioned,” she said. “Parts of it are Zetan, but others are of Equest- -”

“I’m NOT WEARING THAT!” cried Scootaloo, feeling her voice going embarrassingly high. “I’m- -I’m just NOT!”

“Alright! Alright,” said Six. “Just calm down, please.” She picked up the mask and put it back in the case with the rest of the armor. She seemed to have no idea why Scootaloo reacted the way she had, not knowing what that armor meant to the younger pony. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”

Six gently set the faceplate back in the box, and Scootaloo realized how ridiculous her reaction must have seemed. Six did not even know the name “Xyuka” or what she truly was, and Scootaloo felt terrible for having overreacted toward her friend.

“Sorry,” muttered Scootaloo. Then, trying to change the subject. “I still don’t quite get it though. Weapons, shields, armor? I need to know exactly what you’re planning on doing.”

“Well,” said Six, examining a rifle, “that part is up to you. My suggestion, though, is to get you safe into hiding. A place where the bounty hunters and the Equestrians will not be able to find you.”

“No. Not going to happen.”

Six looked up from her rifle. “And might I ask why?”

“Because I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You stand accused of heresy on your homeworld. From what I gather, there isn’t a higher crime.”

“But I’m innocent,” said Scootaloo, firmly. “There is a misunderstanding. There has to be. Twilight isn’t that kind of pony, if I could just talk to her…”

Six shook her head. “I have never met Twilight Sparkle. But considering I am a clone of her, I can only gather that she is at least something like myself and my sisters.”

“Less than you would think.”

“Regardless: she would not make a ‘mistake’ this significant. She knows what she is doing.”

“Then I need to know more. My memory…it’s all messed up. I don’t remember my trial, what happened, nothing. It’s all gone. Maybe all I can do is go into hiding, but maybe not. I need to know. I know you said you didn’t deal in information, but…”

“I don’t usually. But I can make some calls. Hell, I’ll call the Shadow Broker herself if I have to. And until then, we’ll do our very best to keep you secure.”

“Thank you, Six.” Scootaloo felt a profound sense of gratefulness, and for the first time since she had woken up a sense of security, as tenuous as it was. Something was still bothering her, though. “Six?”

“Yes, Scootaloo?”

“Were you seriously looking at my filly parts?”

“Well…were you looking at mine?”

The two stared at each other for a moment, and then went immediately back to choosing weapons from the stack.