Mass Core 3: Thebe Paridigm

Starlight opened her eyes, and looked around at the scenery surrounding her. She found herself in an enormous, seemingly endless field of tall grass and wildflowers, bordered only on its farthest edges by hazy mountains. It was midday, and the land was lit by the light of Equestrias’s red-orange sun.

The air smelled sweet, like the flowers and the grass, and a breeze rushed by. Starlight leaned back against a lonely tree, the only survivor of the long-extinct forest that must have once dwelt where the endless meadow now stood. Lying in the short grass next to her was Twilight, curled into a ball and sleeping in the shade.

Twilight began to stir. She did not wake up, but she began twitching and frowning, and then making a strange sound that was almost words as if something were hurting her. Starlight recognized what this was. It was the nightmares, the result of Twilight having been a Core for so long. This was not new; Twilight had experienced the dreams for as long as Starlight had known her, and in fact Twilight’s always seemed to be far more intense and damaging than her own.

Starlight reached out and pulled her friend close to her. At first Twilight resisted, as if whatever was pursuing her in her dreams had finally caught her. As Starlight held her, though, Twilight began to stop quivering. Then she shifted, nestling herself against Starlight’s body and smiling.

For just a brief moment, Starlight was happy. She felt perfectly content, and closed her eyes, feeling as though she too could drift off to sleep. As she did, though, the wind through the field began to blow cold. At first it was hardly noticeable, but then it quickly grew into an icy chill. Starlight shivered and opened her eyes.

The scenery had changed. It was as though the sun itself had grown cold, and although it still burned high in the sky, the fields that had once looked so inviting were now cast in ominous dusk. Starlight looked around, confused as to what had happened or why she suddenly felt so afraid. She held Twilight closer, ready to protect her from whatever horrible thing might be about to happen.

That was when the voices started. Starlight almost cried out, and tried to cover her ears. It did nothing, though. They were not coming from the field, and although they blew in on the wind, they were in her mind.

There were what felt like hundreds of them; endless threads of conversation, some simply repeating the same incomprehensible phrases but others looping with complex ideas and others in deep communication with one another. They were almost silent, but at the same time deafening.

“Ally.”

“Friends. Friends. The friends.”

“So cold why am I so cold- -”

“Subsection four, re allocate…can’t find can’t find where is- -”

“Repurposing thread to combine allotment.”

“I don’t understand. I almost understand. I once understood. Why not now?”

“Reaper element seven five eight returned to core facility, installation in progress.”

“Unable to interface, system not present.”

“I’m scared. It is so cold. So cold. So dark.”

“The war terminated with a peace treaty in 507, signed by the offending words and the Chancellor of- -”

“She…is she my friend? I don’t know.”

“Is she? Not yet. She allies…”

“False. False. False. Not me, not ME.”

“Why…why? WHY?”

“RISE.”

The voices suddenly unified, repeating that last word again and again before splitting off.

“RETURN.”

“RETURN.”

“We will- -RETURN.”

“STARLIGHT.”

Starlight awoke with a start. She was panicked, not realizing where she was or what was going on, but she held her composure long enough for her mind to stabilize. She realized that she was still in the chair on her ship’s bridge, her omnitool still open and connected to the ship’s systems. Somehow, she had dozed off.

“Oh crap,” she whispered, putting her free hoof to her head. It was throbbing, and she was covered in cold sweat. “Damn it…”

After taking a moment to catch her breath, she pulled the cables from her omnitool and slid off the chair. As she did, she saw that Sbaya was asleep beside her, curled up on the floor like some kind of large cat.

Starlight stepped over her and walked quietly out of the bridge and into the main corridor behind it. Since the lights of the ship had not yet restarted, she assumed that it was still night. Checking the chronometer in her omnitool confirmed that it was very early in the morning. She had only been asleep for just over an hour and a half, which was about the best she was able to do each night.

The ship was otherwise silent, and Starlight wandered through the darkened hallways. She could only partially remember the dream she had just had, but its emotional content remained strong in her mind. There was a sense of confusion and fear that together formed a kind of quiet but inescapable anxiety. Mostly, though, she found herself missing Twilight. She could not count the number of times she had found Twilight in the midst of her vicious nightmares, or awake and on the verge of mental breakdown. Starlight was the only one that Twilight trusted to pull her back out of that state, but the connection went both ways: Starlight always felt better when she was beside her friend. Unlike her, Twilight shifted between two extremes: sometimes she was extremely fragile, but other times she was the strongest pony that Starlight knew.

After several minutes of walking aimlessly and waiting for the residual emotions from her dream to clear, she stopped at a door. It led to one of many small rooms on the ship, and Starlight assumed that it had been meant to contain crew quarters. Starlight had never intended it to actually serve that purpose, but now it had.

She pushed the door open. “Beri?” she said, hoping that the cyborg was in.

Beri was present, but Starlight quickly realized that she was not in any state for conversation. The only light in the room came from several blueish monitors, and it illuminated a small number of crates. Some of those were open, exposing their contents which were almost invariably weapons or other military equipment. Some of it, though, was unique, and Starlight did not recognize its function.

In one corner of the room, Beri was curled against the wall. She was not moving, and her hologram was not active. Several thick connecting lines ran from ports in her back to a large piece of machinery that produced a slight and almost inaudible whirring sound.

“Beri?” Starlight approached the machine, trying to establish what it was. It did not take her long to realize that it was displaying vital signs- -but they were far from normal. Even with her limited knowledge of turian biology, Starlight knew that something was severely wrong.

“Beri!” she said, putting her hoof on the turian’s shoulder and trying to nudge her awake.

“Don’t try to wake her up,” said a voice behind her. Starlight jumped in fright and turned around, ready to attack whoever was behind her- -only to see Jurneu’s red eyes staring back at her.

“Jurneu,” gasped Starlight. She quickly regained her composure and pointed at the machine. “You see this, right?”

“I do,” said Jurneu, “and I have.”

“What is wrong with her?”

“What is wrong with her?” asked Jurneu, seeming somewhat confused. “She’s dying, Starlight.”

“Dying?” Starlight quickly looked back at the readings from Beri’s body, and as much as she did not want to believe what she had been told, she had to agree. Beri’s oxygen saturation and blood chemistry- -if whatever she had flowing through her artificial veins could even be called blood- -was excellent, but her brain function was marginal at best. If her neurological functions were anything like a pony’s, she was gravely damaged. “Why? Why is she like that?” demanded Starlight.

“Because she’s old,” said Jurneu. He spoke slowly, clearly trying to be sensitive and as calming as he could. “The turian brain, it just isn’t designed to last this long. Very few species can maintain indefinite neural function- -really, only krogan, synths and alicorns. And she is none of those things.”

“You…you knew,” said Starlight. “You knew she was like this before you even started this mission.”

Jurneu nodded and looked at Beri. “She is something of a legend, you know,” he said. “The stories she could tell. The battles, the event’s she’s seen. But…she’s been in decline. Normally, she is kept comatose. It slows down the degradation. Every second she is awake, though, her brain is dying.

Starlight gaped, angry that Jurneu seemed completely at ease with Beri’s impending demise. “Well, then, we need to go back,” she said, pushing past the white unicorn.

“Go back?”

“Yes. If her being here is hurting her, then we need to take her back to the Agrostation. If that’s the only thing that will keep her alive- -”

“Don’t bother,” said Beri.

Starlight and Jurneu both turned sharply toward her. Beri lifted her head, and her optic mechanisms focused on both of them.

“How long were you conscious?” asked Jurneu.

“At this point? I have no idea.” Beri stood up and pulled the connecting lines out of her back. Some of them were electrical, but the largest of them dripped a pale yellow fluid as she removed it. “It kind of all blends together.” She looked down at Jurneu. “And, frankly, I’m glad I was listening. I don’t take kindly to you undermining my standing on this mission, Spectre.”

“My apologies, Spectre Tyros,” said Jurneu. “That was not my intention at all!”

“But his point stills stands,” said Starlight. “We are taking you back. If just being awake is killing you- -”

“The doctors gave me five years. And that was sixteen years ago.” Beri flexed one of her mechanical arms, examining the feedback. “What can I say? Lemon Heart does good work.”

“Why aren’t you taking this seriously?!” cried Starlight, surprised at her sudden volume.

“Because why should I? I’m on my way out. Everyone dies eventually, Starlight. Except you for some reason.”

“And you’re in this for one last adventure,” said Jurneu.

“There’s a fraction of the perception I taught you. Yes. I don’t want to go braindead connected to some machine like a goddamn forgotten relic. I was born into this world to be a Spectre, and I’m damn well going to leave it as a Spectre. I expect to rival Saren himself when I go out.”

“My. Own. HORSESHIT.” Starlight stomped past Jurneu. “Like hell you’re going to die on me! I thought you were supposed to be some kind of Spectre?”

“I am,” said Beri, somewhat harshly.

“Well, when I acquire a Spectre, I don’t expect inferior product!”

“I assure you, I will function better than any other living Spectre until the end. Because I am the best there is.”

“Well, then, I guess you’re going to be sorely disappointed. Because I don’t just waste my friend’s lives like that. I did it once, I’m not going to again.”

“I would hardly say we’re ‘friends’,” said Beri. “Last time I checked, you didn’t like me very much.”

“No. You’re an arrogant bitch. But if you think I’m going to let you die on MY mission, then you’ve chosen the wrong ‘final’ mission. Because I refuse to let you leave on my watch.”

The room was silent for a long moment, and Starlight realized just how hard she was breathing. Then Beri started laughing.

“Ha!” she said, “you know, I thought palace life would make you even softer. But damn, I don’t know how she did it, but that pony Princess actually managed to get you to grow a quad.”

“Figuratively, I hope,” said Jurneu.

“I’ll die when I want,” said Beri. “But I don’t do inferior work. It just isn’t in my nature. Literally. Look at this body, it’s technologically perfect. I could fist-fight a synth and win. Trust me, Starlight Glimmer. Scootaloo is as good as dead. I will strangle the life out of her tiny body myself if I have to.”

“Good. Because I am going to get you home safe.”

“With regards to Scootaloo, though,” said Jurneu. “I have completed my analysis.”

“And?”

“And I have tracked her location.”

“Her nearest location,” corrected Beri. “By this time, she could have jumped six or seven times. She could be in the Andromeda Frontier by now.”

“But we can still track her,” said Jurneu. “Apparently, we have been allocated a connection to the geth listening network. They are now actively tracking her, and my results show that she is using an extremely distinctive Equestrian quant-drive. Anywhere she goes, we will be able to find her.”

“That’s exactly what we need,” said Starlight. “I’ll prepare the ship. Get yourselves ready.”

“Ms. Glimmer,” said Jurneu. “I feel I would be remiss if I did not ask you to at least take a moment to consider your actions.”

Starlight paused. “What do you mean by that?”

“What I mean is that as soon as we mass-jump into her proximity, there will be no turning back. One of us will leave victorious. If you think we need any more time or preparation, this is your last chance to obtain it.”

For a moment, Starlight actually did stop to consider what Jurneu was saying. If they engaged Scootaloo, the mission would be over one way or another.

“I am ready,” she said without further thought. “Jurneu, assist me on the bridge with the coordinates. Beri, wake up Zedok and get ready.” She turned around and started quickly toward the bridge. “I’m going to do what Twilight couldn’t bring herself to. I am going to make Scootaloo pay for what she did to Trixie.”