Starlight looked out through a perfectly smooth, clean glass window at the artificial forest. Below, there was a small garden that centered around a planter containing an impressive mountain laurel and stood mostly secluded by the larger trees around it. There were several stone benches, and Sbaya was sitting on one beside a tall synth woman whose skull was skinless save for her face. She had had apparently been reading an actual paper book until Sbaya had sat down beside her.. Although Starlight could not hear their conversation, Sbaya was unusually animated. She smiled and moved her hands, gesturing, and the synth woman covered her mouth with her hand as she giggled.

“Weirdest. Thing. Ever,” said Zedok, approaching the window and looking out. “She completely chokes up around asari, pisses herself at the sight of a salarian- -she won’t even interact with yahg if I don’t force her! But somehow she’s fine with synths?” Zedok sighed and hit her head against the glass softly. “Parenting is hard, Star. Really, really hard.”

“It’s like she doesn’t even realize that they’re our enemies,” said Beri. She was sitting on the far side of the room on a desk or table of some sort. She would alternate between anxiously tapping one foot or siting absolutely, perfectly still, and in both states it was highly apparent that she was not enjoying her situation.

“They are not our enemy,” said Starlight.

“Really? Tell that to the humans. Or Palaven. Or the salarians. That Outbreak? It didn’t start itself.”

“Oh come on,” said Zedok, turning around. “Please. The grotesque monsters who built THAT bioweapon are the ones living on Sur’Kesh.”

“Salarians aren’t that bad,” said Jurneu, who was on one side of the room using his magic to brew a nutrient-pack.

“Please don’t start describing how so,” said Beri. “I don’t even have a stomach, but I don’t want its contents to leave me.”

“Speaking of that,” said Zedok, turning to Jurneu. “What the hell was up with you and the Alliance pony?”

“Well, excuse me if I found her profoundly attractive. I am a highly virile ungelded stallion.”

Starlight raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were only attracted to breeders?”

“I am,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a fine mare. Or stallion. And she is simply exquisite.” He paused. “Although there is a chance that my lust for her frail unicorn body it is really just another genetic artifact…”

“A fine mare?” said Zedok, jokingly. “How about Starlight, then?”

“Zedok!”

Jurneu looked at Starlight and blinked his red eyes. “Hmm,” he said. “You know what? Yes. You’re not as attractive as she is, but your poise and bravery has led me to respect you enough to be willing to allow you to bed me, if you want it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Starlight, suddenly realizing just how awkward Quatre must have felt. “But I hardly think my actions are worthy of your respect.”

“That’s not true,” said Jurneu.

“Really? Because the last time I checked, we were on an Alliance ship. After getting nearly killed by wendigoes. And getting my ship smashed, which was my fault for lowering the shields. And worst of all, I let that traitor Scootaloo get away! I bucked up, Jurneu.”

“Not really,” he said. “You couldn’t have predicted that we would be attacked. The technology those ships used left almost no room for prediction, but your quick thinking saved our lives. And when it came to the wendigoes and that Cerberus abomination, you stood your ground.”

“You did the same with Quatre,” noted Zedok. “All that shit we went through, and you didn’t falter once. It was pretty epic.”

“It very much speaks to your position,” added Jurneu. “And, the more I think about it, the more I am willing to give myself to you. In fact, if you’re interested, I believe your genetic contributions could greatly improve our unicorn production program.” He paused. “Not that that’s what I’m inserted in, of course.”

“Now you’re coming onto a Priestess,” groaned Beri. “You do know that’s a capital offense, right?”

Jurneu’s eyes widened. Starlight sighed. “It isn’t,” she said. “Celibacy is not a requirement. That said, stop talking about this. I am really, REALLY not in the mood.”

“Oh…yes. My apologies.”

“Hell, if I was into chicks or ponies, I’d even be thinking about you too,” said Zedok. “Jack would be proud, Star.”

Starlight appreciated that sentiment greatly, but considering the other thoughts running through her mind, it did not make her feel much better. She crossed the room and sat down on the side across from Jurneu. “Did you notice anything strange about her?” she blurted out.

Jurneu looked up. “Me?”

“Oh, trust me,” said Beri. “He noticed a LOT about her. I saw him doing it.”

“Any of you,” said Starlight.

“Uh, no,” said Zedok. “I mean, aside from looking like a cancer patient, no. She just looked like a regular pony.”

“She looked exactly like Twilight Sparkle,” said Starlight. “And I don’t mean similar. If I didn’t know that she was a different pony, I would have thought that was her!”

“Well,” said Jurneu, “our facial structures aren’t that diverse. It is possible she just LOOKS like- -”

“She doesn’t just ‘look like’ Twilight, Jurneu. I’ve been living with the Princess for almost three centuries! I’ve looked at her a lot! I know what she looks like.”

Starlight leaned back, exasperated. She knew that this was not any help. None of them knew Twilight, or had even met her, so none of them were getting the same emotional effect from Quatre’s appearance as she was. Compounding the problem was that nothing they could tell her would actually help her understand what in Celestia’s name was going on.

“Well, there WAS something I noticed,” said Jurneu.

Starlight leaned forward quickly. “What?”

“Not concerning her per se, but something she told us. The planet she was from. Dhyla Losh’d 6.”

“I haven’t even heard of that system,” said Beri.

“You wouldn’t have. It is an obscure backwater. In Alliance space, but so remote that no one ever bothered to develop it. I only know about it from an informatics survey I had been doing a few months back.”

“So?” said Zedok, crossing her arms as she leaned against the window. “It’s in Alliance space. We already knew that she was born in the Alliance.”

“That’s just it. Nobody could be born on that planet. It isn’t habitable.”

“That just means she was born in a station,” said Starlight.

“Oh no. That’s not what I mean. It’s a garden world. The planet’s conditions are not what make it uninhabitable, but the sheer amount of defensive systems that Cerberus left on it.”

Starlight’s eyes narrowed. “Cerberus?”

Jurneu nodded. “Although it was never known at the time, modern studies have shown that Dhyla Losh’d 6 was almost certainly a Cerberus base of operations.”

“Was?”

“The facility there has been inactive for over two centuries,” explained Jurneu, “but from what we know about it, the automated fortifications are still operational, to the point where not even the synths have bothered to colonize it. That entire system has been abandoned since Cerberus left it.”

The room fell silent.

“So,” said Zedok, after a moment, “what does that mean?”

“It means she’s lying,” said Beri. “Do you want to know what I think? The Alliance probably picked her up off a ship when she was young. It’s a coincidence that she looks that way. Lots of ponies do. Or maybe it’s plastic surgery, who knows? I don’t think it’s anything of consequence.”

That actually made Starlight feel better, but only slightly. Beri’s suggestions actually made sense, or at least more sense than not having any idea at all.

Their conversation was interrupted as a mech moved into the room. It took a moment to scan the area and account for all those present before it turned its two vertically aligned red-colored eyes toward Starlight.

“High Priestess,” it said. “Supervisor Quatre has requested your presence. I have sent this unit to retrieve you, should you be willing to attend.”

“Well, there you go,” said Zedok. “If you really want to know, how about you just ask her?”

The meeting, it seemed, was apparently important. The mech and its associates had brought Starlight’s clothing from her ship and given her a chance to change. Wanting to put her best hoof forward, Starlight had obliged and fitted herself with the more formal accoutrements of her wardrobe that she had previously omitted. This included ceremonial secondary armor and a short formal cloak, as well as several pieces of simple jewelry and, of course, her violet contact lenses. It was hardly what she would wear to a Gala, but it was more than adequate for diplomatic negotiation.

When the mechs finally brought Starlight to Quatre, Starlight also realized that the other pony had changed as well. She was now in a different uniform that resembled, of all things, a Centurion uniform: it had a split, two-part armored skirt, a garment that was either a cape or part of a robe, and an ornate chestplate, all placed over modern-looking military bodysuit that came up to Quatre’s neck. She was no longer wearing the death-mask, but instead a helmet where the entire front portion was transparent

Quatre’s appearance, though strange, was not entirely out of place. The synths that Starlight had seen- -or at least the ones who possessed skin- -wore a similar version, but with less armor and ornamentation. The garb did not look especially uncomfortable either, and Starlight equated it to the ceremonial army that powerful Equestrians- -including her, even though she preferred to wear functional armor instead- -tended to wear.

When Quatre saw Starlight approaching, she smiled- -Twilight’s smile- -and walked forward to meet her. Several interface panels were floating near her, projected by her horn, and they shifted as she approached. The mechs reacted immediately, stiffening and walking back to wherever it was they had come.

“You were controlling them?” said Starlight, mildly bemused.

“Yes,” said Quatre.

“Is it difficult?”

“Oh no. My mental capacity is the same as some synths.”

“And the other synths?”

Quatre smiled. “Their parents were not very wealthy.”

They both began walking. Quatre was slightly taller than Starlight, but moved somewhat slowly. Although she looked and sounded exactly like Twilight, she moved differently. While Twilight appeared strong and confident- -at least when she had the mental strength to be- -Quatre appeared graceful in spite of some insidious but unidentified disease.

“Quatre,” said Starlight at last. “There is something I’ve been wondering.”

“Really? About what?”

“Your appearance.”

Quatre’s eyes narrowed. “As much as I am willing to tolerate you, I am NOT willing to discuss my medical history. Yes, I am sick. No, it is not contagious. You do not need to know any more than that.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“Oh.” Quatre seemed somewhat embarrassed. “Then what did you want to know?”

“Why do you look exactly like Twilight Sparkle?”

Quatre had been looking at Starlight, and her faced showed no sign of any reaction aside from momentary weak interest. “I look like the Princess?” she said. She shrugged. “I have never met the Princess, so I was not aware of this fact. I suppose it is a coincidence.”

“But it’s just so…uncanny. You look JUST like her, except that you don’t have any wings. Your face, your eyes, your voice…even the pointed teeth.”

That seemed to get a reaction out of Quatre. Her eyes widened for a moment and Starlight saw her take a sharp inward breath. “Wait…pointed teeth?”

“Four!” said a voice from farther down the hall. Both Starlight and Quatre looked up to see an synth approaching. He was dressed in the same uniform as Quatre, except that it had been made for a biped and included a pair of tech-screens extending from the projector built into his collar. The person himself, though, momentarily gave Starlight pause. For just a moment, she was not sure if he even was a synth. He had the same blond hair and blue eyes, but his face looked substantially less dead and mannequin-like, save for his eyes. His height was also unusual; whereas most synths were tall and lanky, his body had been sized and proportioned exactly as if he had been a human.

“Command-Supervisor!” said Quatre, suddenly excited. She approached him quickly- -she did not appear able to run, so it was more of a quick trot- -and he knelt down. He hugged her, and she hugged him back. He ran his hand through her mane, and she nuzzled him. On some level, the display of affection was probably touching, but Starlight just found it weird.

“I got your report,” said the man. “Excellent work, as always. The recovery efforts are underway, and the casualties are being repaired.”

Quatre’s expression dropped slightly. “Their injuries were unfortunate. I am afraid I failed in that aspect.”

“Hardly. We had no permanent deaths.”

“But we lost over forty mechs, and the imbedded Cerberus vessel escaped.”

“We can replace mechs, and the Cerberus vehicle was not a mission objective. You led a very successful force.” He smiled and looked away from her. “Although I did at just ONE command oversight…”
Quatre looked somewhat insulted. “You overruled me? On what?”

“I took the opportunity to have the recovery crew collect the fingers of the wendigoes.”

Quatre gasped. “You got the FINGIES? For…for me?”

“Of course. I know how much you like them.”

“Aww!” said Quatre, hugging him tightly. “You’re so thoughtful!”

Starlight did not really understand what they were talking about, but she let them continue with whatever they were doing until the man finally turned to starlight, his hand still in Quatre’s hair and dangerously close to her horn.

“High Priestess Starlight Glimmer,” he said, beaming and stretching out his hand. “It is an honor to meet you again. I am Command-Supervisor Marc Antony. I don’t have a last name.”

Since he was already squatting, it was not difficult for Starlight to extend her hoof and take his. As she did, she looked at his face. The robotics that made his skin move were far more realistic than a normal synth’s, but he also seemed somehow very familiar.

Then Starlight remembered where she had seen him before. She immediately jumped back.

“Y- -YOU!” she cried. The memories came flooding back, but as was customary for someone with such a long lifespan as Starlight, once they had returned to the surface of her mind they felt as though they had just happened. “I- -I remember you! You and the blue-eyed woman! When I had just woken up! You tried to sell me back to Equestria so they could put me back in a tank!”

Marc Antony sighed, and stood up. “So you do remember me,” he said.

Starlight took another step back, but Quatre approached her.

“Starlight,” she said. “May I call you Starlight? Please. Listen to what he has to say.”

“He attacked me. He attacked my friends! He almost killed Zedok!”

“If you mean the asari,” said Marc Antony, “no. That was Bob’s doing. And if I recall the asari was given a warning.” He paused. “But…no. I’m not going to defend my actions. Those events? That was centuries ago. Lifetimes for some races. Yes, I was employed by Bob, and Bob is not a nice person.”

“You were a member of Cerberus,” said Starlight, harshly.

“Again, yes,” admitted Marc Antony. “I was employed by them. But at the time, there were not many opportunities for synths like myself.”

“But he has changed,” said Quatre.

“Yes, I have. Look at me now. I’m commanding an Alliance ship. I’ve worked hard to turn my life around. I hope you can overlook my past in the interest of future goodwill.”

“And just let you get away with what you did?” Starlight took a deep breath, trying to keep her calm. “I’m just not sure people can change that easily.”

Marc Antony raised one eyebrow. “And yet the pony I tried to sell you to is now your best friend, or so I’m told.”

That fact gave Starlight pause. Much to her chagrin, he was correct. Starlight began to realize that the strong emotions of her earliest memories might be misleading her, and she closed her eyes and took a breath. Then, after a moment, she had fully regained her composure. “Yes,” she said. “Ponies deserve second chances, and so do synths. I will withhold my judgment of you, for now.”

“Excellent,” said Quatre. “Because you didn’t really have a choice.”

“Four…”

Quatre paused. “Damn. I did it again. Why does talking to organics have to be so difficult?”

“I don’t mind,” said Starlight.

“That is good,” said Marc Antony. He began walking with Quatre at his side, patting her on the head as he did.

Starlight watched this, and as she started walking with them she could not help herself from asking.

“Are you two…?”

“Fucking?” suggested Four. “Yes. We are. Very, very hard.”

Starlight winced. “I was going to say ‘lovers’.”

“Oh. Well, yes, that too.”

From what Starlight gathered, Quatre and Marc Antony were of the same rank. With the Imperial Alliance it was difficult to tell because of the ranking system, but to the extent that Starlight understood Marc Antony was only functionally higher ranking because he was commissioned to command the Antigone, leaving Quatre to serve as the equivalent of a first mate, a job that she took quite literally.

Their personalities were quite different, though. Starlight had already met Four, and understood that she was awkward not out of shyness but out of aggression that she sometimes failed to hide. Marc Antony, meanwhile, seemed pleasant- -which, around Quatre, led Starlight to believe that he was MUCH better at hiding his intentions than she was.

“Actually,” he said, continuing from a conversation that Starlight had largely allowed to be one-sided, “I must admit, I’m slightly nervous talking to an actual Equestrian.”

“I make you nervous?”

“To an extent, yes,” said Marc Antony. “Your alliance with our nation is of critical importance, and yet your society remains quite mysterious to us. I mean, can you imagine? Not just a planet, but an entire galactic empire of small, talking, brightly-colored ponies. It would just be so adorable!”

“I don’t know if I would describe it that way,” said Starlight. “But yes, it is an impressive place. You’ve seriously never gone?”

Marc Antony shook his head. “No. Outsiders generally don’t.”

Starlight thought about it for a moment, and she realized that she had no way to determine if what he was saying was true or not. She had spent so much time in the Temple or on missions that she was unsure about the specifics of life on Equestria. She could not recall having seen many aliens, though.

“I don’t really have much desire to go myself,” said Quatre.

“You don’t want to get to know your homeland?”

“Homeland? Hardly,” she said.

Marc Antony sighed. “I suppose it’s for the best.” He leaned toward Starlight. “She doesn’t get along well with most other ponies.”

“You mean she regularly interacts with other ponies at all?” said Starlight, intending it as a kind of a joke. Instead of laughing, though, Marc Antony’s expression became somewhat distant.

“You know what?” he said. “No. Four, when was the last time you talked to another pony? Before now, I mean?”

“I received a communication from my sister a few days ago.”

“Really? Aren’t you the one always telling me it doesn’t count when you do it with your sisters?”

“Oh.” Quatre paused. “I don’t remember, actually.”

Marc Antony laughed. “See? She doesn’t play well with others.”

“I play well with you.”

Marc Antony paused, and then gave a mischievous smile. “You most certainly do.”

Where they were heading, the hallways began to become taller, and eventually Starlight was led into a large room. It seemed to contain what Starlight interpreted as communications equipment, with much of it surrounding a large pad in the center of the floor. There were no synths or mechs, but several spherical, metallic drones circling the room and muttering in their strange drone language.

Starlight looked around, and then turned to Marc Antony as the door closed behind them. “Why are we here?” she asked.

Marc Antony, for the first time, actually became somewhat serious. “Because having you here is something of a special occasion. You are, after all, second only to Twilight Sparkle in the Equestrian hierarchy. This is a hunter ship; we don’t get many diplomats like you.”

“So you take me to a communications room?” said Starlight, sarcastically.

“No,” said Quatre, her sharp teeth showing as she smiled broadly. “Someone has requested an audience with you.”

Starlight was somewhat surprised by this. “Who?”

Marc Antony did not answer. Instead, he raised one hand over his head and snapped his fingers. The drones immediately responded, departing from what they were doing and moving to the center of the room where the large metal pad was located.

Quatre leaned in close to Starlight. “Don’t mess this up,” she whispered.

“I never do,” retorted Starlight, even though she was still unsure of what Quatre had meant by her warning.

The drones flitted about for a moment before suddenly stopping and holding themselves perfectly still. Then their front lenses ignited, and a holographic wireframe mesh began to form over the pad. It began as a blue network of polygons that where physically painful to look at, but the image rapidly began to evolve. Within less than a second, it had formed a complex surface rendering. Most of the holograms that Starlight was familiar with ended there, representing a given object with a translucent, almost ghost-like image. This one continued, though. Within seconds, the hologram had become opaque and began rendering shadows as though the figure it was representing was actually in the room. It was a near perfect rendition, looking as real as any physical object.

The “object” projected, Starlight quickly realized, was a synth. Not an ordinary synth by any means, though. Whereas Marc Antony was unusually short, this synth was almost hyperbolically tall, standing six meters high at least. She wore no clothing apart from a side-cape attached around her torso, and was completely skinless. Like many synths, she was unusually thin and skeletal, her body made of white, bone-like ceramic inlaid with metallic grooves and lines that were only visible when seen at glancing angles. Her facial structure only added to the illusion: her head resembled a human skull, save for the fact that she lacked a lower jaw and possessed six eye sockets, each of which gleamed with an iridescent semiconductor plate.

“Empress Babylon,” said Marc Antony.

Starlight felt a sharp pain of adrenaline rush through her, and looked to Marc Antony, then back at the projection of the synth standing before her, almost unable to comprehend who she had been brought before.

“Command-Supervisor Marc Antony,” she said. Her voice was distinctly feminine and sounded exactly what Starlight would expect from a human- -not from a twenty foot tall synth. Babylon’s head moved slightly. “And Supervisor Four of Eight.”

Starlight looked around, somewhat confused as to what action to take. She had not briefed herself on synth or Alliance custom before her arrival because she had not realized it would be necessary. Now, though, it was more critical than ever before: she was standing face-to-face with the Alliance’s immortal monarch. She had an urge to bow, but she noticed that neither Marc Antony nor Quatre did so. They did not even salute. They seemed to be more serious than before, but their demeanors had hardly changed.

“Starlight Glimmer,” said the Empress, causing Starlight to stiffen. “You and I have not met in person before. However, the Twilight Sparkle speaks very highly of you. I am glad to finally meet you, even if it is only in this secondary form.”

“I am honored that you wish to speak with me,” said Starlight. “Although, I must admit, I’m not fully prepared for this exchange.”

Babylon stepped off the platform- -or rather, the drones followed her, projecting the hologram as she moved. Her motion was bizarre to say the least: smooth and precise in a way that came off as completely unnatural. Starlight wished that she could dismiss such a strange gait as an artifact of the hologram, but when the appearance of the hologram was so realistic, she realized that Babylon probably actually moved that way. The thought of a creature that size with that range of motion was almost sickening.

“I would rather you not be prepared,” she said, dismissively. “I am familiar with your record as a warrior and the stories of your diplomatic tact. You may consider this a test, I suppose. In other words, I am judging you.”

“And I, you.”

Babylon paused, and Quatre glared at Starlight. Babylon did not seem offended, though. “Interesting indeed,” she said. She started toward the door, which opened as the drones approached it. “Come. Walk with me. All of you.”

Starlight fell into step with Babylon- -not an easy task, considering her height- -and Marc Antony and Quatre took up positions slightly behind the pair. Babylon led them out into the hallways, apparently examining the ship as she passed silently through it.

“Are you aware, Starlight Glimmer,” she said after a time, “of your importance in our history?”

“Me?” said Starlight, somewhat surprised. “I’ve hardly played a role in it at all. Of any kind.”

“The destruction of the planet Earth is widely attributed to you. Are you aware of this?”

Starlight almost fell behind, pausing from shock, but just barely managed to remain composed. “No,” she said, “I was not aware of that. Because it is untrue. Earth was destroyed by the rogue Core Sunset Shimmer.”

“Technically correct,” agreed Babylon, “but you were the one tasked with stopping her. And you failed. A planet that had weathered endless war, plague, famine, that had been the birthplace of a civilization. And you destroyed it through your inaction.”

Starlight knew where this was going. “Yes,” she said, simply. “You’re right. I didn’t stop Sunset, and it cost so many people their lives. Sunset included. And very nearly Twilight. I want to apologize, but how can I do that? How could it possibly mean anything?”

“Apologize?” said Babylon, sounding mildly amused. “I do not expect an apology. I was merely attempting to thank you.”

This time, Starlight did break step, literally pausing from pure confusion. Babylon stopped with her and stared down with her multiple eyes.

“T…thank me?” said Starlight, still not understanding what she was trying to say. “But I destroyed your homeworld!”

“My homeworld? Hardly. The destruction of Earth predates me. Although I do believe the Command-Supervisor was constructed there, were you not?”

“I was,” said Marc Antony. “Ontario. I was the youngest of four sisters.”

“You did what no others could, Starlight Glimmer,” continued Babylon. “Earth was a pointless planet. An artifact of a bygone age that ended when the Reapers made it uninhabitable to Terran life. But through its destruction, Earth brought about a new golden age for the Alliance. A technological increase unseen since the days of early FTL development.”

“But…but how?”

“How? By suddenly creating a mineral-rich debris field in the very center of the Sol system. Resources that were previously unattainable were suddenly available in absurd abundance with hardly any difficulty of mining. In addition, the dimensional rift that the Crimson Horizon used to tear the planet apart generated several exotic isotopes of element zero that to this day our greatest scientists can scarcely comprehend.” Babylon gestured her chest. Her long, four-jointed fingers spread out as if she were holding something there. “More resources to build more ships, more weapons, more synths. My own heart is built of alloys made from what was once the core of the planet Earth. For the time being, I am the epitome of Earth’s evolution, but I also embody it physically. As do many of us.”

She began walking again, and after a moment, Starlight followed.

“I don’t know if the humans would agree with you,” said Starlight.

“The humans?” said Babylon. “According to the Command-Supervisor’s report, you have seen what became of the humans. Which, might I add, Marc Antony, your work was acceptably brilliant, as always. The same goes for the Supervisor, as well. The extermination of an entire nest; indeed, your experience with the nhumi appears to be paying off.”

“My experience with them…has provided many advantages,” he said, smiling at Quatre. His expression hardened slightly, and his already dead eyes looked even more distant. “Even if I had to see her…pantless…so…many…TIMES.” He shivered violently.

“Evolution tends to be based on selective pressure,” noted Starlight.

“Are you implying that we made them this way?” retorted Quatre, somewhat accusingly.

“We did not,” said Babylon, her feminine but terrifyingly firm voice silencing Quatre. “Starlight Glimmer, you may be misinterpreting our role. There was no war, no apocalyptic end to humanity. They simply died out.”

“An entire race ‘died out’?”

“An entire race whose population was decimated in the Reaper War, only to have their homeworld rendered uninhabitable by eezio toxicity? To find the number of habitable planets in their territory dwindle? To determine that reproduction was too costly while the synths kept their economy running?”

“I did not mean to pass a moral judgement,” said Starlight.

“Yes you did,” said Marc Antony.

Starlight turned back to him. “One of my best friends was a human. The thought of her species dying, that there will never be any more…it makes me very sad.”

They emerged from the hallway and entered the outer perimeter of the ship. It was set up as an observation deck, with a long, tall hallway circumscribing the ship with a tall transparent window on one side. The ship was still floating in the midst of a massive nebula; as such, there was no visibility outside, and the normally dark-colored space filled the room with a bright, strange light. The hallway was silent and empty, save for a synth woman with blue-green eyes who had been looking out the window. When she saw Babylon approach, she immediately looked surprised and excused herself, walking quite quickly out of her ruler’s path.

Babylon reached absently toward the window. Being a hologram, her hand projected through it, the light distorting as it passed through the glass and the tips of her fingers rendered on the far side, in space itself.

“Starlight,” she said. “How do I feel about organics?”

“Excuse me?” asked Starlight, confused about the question.

“Answer. It will be telling.”

Starlight paused for a moment. “Well…I suppose that you are indifferent to them.”

Babylon paused, and looked down at Starlight. Her face did not have the capacity for any form of expression, and yet, somehow, she seemed amused. “And why would you think that?”

“Because you are one of my people’s closest allies. You seem to be tolerating me, and you at least appear to value Quatre.”

Babylon looked out the window for a moment. “You are of course correct,” she said, “at least partially. ‘Tolerating’ might be too strong a word. But…I am beginning to see what Twilight sees in you. Otherwise, yes. I hold nothing against organics. My father? He was human. A man perhaps more brilliant than any synth yet created, even if his motives for my birth were…trite. I will never forget the look on his face when I snapped his neck.”

She looked down at Marc Antony and Quatre. “My own lover is an organic. At least partly. Which is why I find this pair touching. I’m not a monster, Starlight.”

“Then why the conflict with the Council?” asked Starlight, watching the gas outside swirl as Alliance fighters passed in the distance, hauling remnants of the wendigo ships they had destroyed back to the Antigone. “This galaxy is on the verge of tearing itself apart.”

“Not all of us have the luxury of a galaxy united under one immortal ruler,” sighed Babylon. “But once again you misunderstand. The Council? They are inconsequential. They sit around their table debating rules and policies while our technology advances exponentially. We are millennia ahead of them in terms of development.”

“I would not be so sure,” said Starlight. “Underestimating them would be a critical mistake.”

“Hmm...” Babylon paused for a moment, as if thinking, but more likely for effect. “Perhaps an example. Marc Antony?”

“Yes, Empress?”

“If I ordered you to advance the Antigone into situation that would assure a guaranteed Alliance victory but the ship’s utter destruction- -in other words, a suicide mission- -what would be your response?”

“I would refuse,” he said, without even the slightest hesitation.

“Exactly,” said Babylon. She looked down at Starlight. “Don’t you see?”

“I…I’m afraid I don’t.”

“We are, by definition, superior. We do not have altruism or compassion, except when we choose to. We do not require it. Every synth is born with the capacity to survive alone. Laws? Policies? Morality? They are limitations.”

“A bit hypocritical, don’t you think? Considering this claim is coming from an empress.”

“An empress of an objectivist society. But it goes deeper than the fact that we are what the humans wished they had been. We do not sleep. We do not eat; we have no agriculture. We do not die, barring accident. No planet is uninhabitable to us, and our individual capacity is limited only by what parts we can create.”

“And afford.”

“Of course.” She continued. “The organics of the Council…to use an analogy, they are like trees. A forest of living things populating the land we will one day develop. It is hardly the trees that are the threat. They can simply be removed as necessary.”

“Like you removed the salarians?”

“Starlight,” said Quatre. “I would strongly caution you not to spread rumors like that.”

“No,” said Babylon. “She is correct. We did create the Outbreak…and immediately gifted our samples directly to the turians. As a good-faith gesture.”

“The salarians were a risk to you.”

“The salarians may have been a risk four centuries ago. Now, though, organics are a non-issue. The Benefactor, though, is a force I am more hesitant to face.”

“The Benefactor?” Starlight was not familiar with the name.

“Surely you’re familiar with the REAL ruler of ‘Council’ space. Maybe not by name, but you’ve seen his ships. The Collectors. The Reapers. THEY are my enemies. The Council is just the illusion that he uses to control the more ignorant races of this galaxy.”

“I’m sure you’re aware of the Prophesy,” said Marc Antony.

“Prophesy?” asked Starlight. “No, I’m not. I don’t believe in that sort of thing.”

“Before he betrayed his own kind,” said Quatre, “it is said that the Benefactor saw the future.”

“And what did he see, then?”

“He saw the past,” said Babylon. “An inevitable, unavoidable war. An apocalyptic battle between man and machine. And he was foolish enough to believe that he would be the one to prevent it.”

“I don’t like what you’re implying,” said Starlight, harshly. “You’re saying- -in front of me- -that you would attack Equestria’s other key ally? I shouldn’t even need to explain the impact that you could have on our people’s friendship.”

“I am aware of what the implications might be,” said Babylon, clasping her hands behind her back. “Which is why I bothered to state this to you. So that you can understand.”

“Understand what? That this galaxy is on the verge of self-annihilation?”

“No. You need to understand just how important Equestria is to us. Our alliance with you? With the Princess? It is of great economic and military importance to us. The fact that both major parties are connected by that thread is the only thing keeping our cold war from becoming extraordinarily hot. Should our alliance with Equestria fail, there would be nothing to that horrendous war from occurring.” She leaned down over Starlight. “Your empire,” she said, “and its connection to us, and to them? It is the only thing that allows peace to exist. And for this, I thank you once again.”

Starlight realized that she was sweating. Not only that, but she was beginning to feel nauseous. It had something to do with the way Babylon moved, but mostly, it was a result of the way she spoke. She appeared to have no regard for the danger that her words posed to the alliance she claimed to treasure- -but she seemed to be absolutely knowledgeable of every implication in what she was suggesting. Starlight was beginning to wonder if she was not absolutely insane.

“At least,” she finally said, “it WAS my belief that the Benefactor was the only threat to the Alliance. I’ve reviewed Marc Antony and Four of Eight’s reports on the situation, and I believe you have met one of our more recent adversaries.”

“And I don’t think you mean the wendigoes.”

“The nhumi? No, of course not. They actually instinctively fear us. They are more or less a pest; at most a minor threat to commercial transports.”

“Then why send out a ship to eliminate them?”

“I was not sent out here to attack wendigoes,” said Marc Antony.

Starlight turned to him slowly and realized what he meant. “The black ships. You were pursuing them. That’s how you found me.”

He smiled and nodded. “They are horribly difficult to track. Our ultra-range scanners can detect them when they materialize, but they are almost always gone by the time we can jump to their position.”

“Gone? Can’t you trace the mass jump?”

Marc Antony shook his head. “They don’t mass-jump. We believe they may be transitioning to a parallel universe called Vocqutus. We simply don’t have the technology to pursue them. The only person that ever understood how to was beheaded over two centuries ago.”

Starlight paused, and then looked up at Babylon. “So your technology is not as advanced as you think, is it?”

“I merely stated our advancement as a relative. We are superior to the Council. We are- -in a technological sense- -not more advanced than Thebe.”

“Thebe?” said Starlight. “What is Thebe?”

“A moon of Jupiter,” said Quatre. “Formerly an eezio mine, but now defunct. In this case, though, we believe that ‘Thebe’ is not a location but a person. However, it is impossible to know.”

“And they were the ships that attacked me,” said Starlight, to herself. Suddenly Chrysalis’s warning surfaced in her mind. “I was pursuing an Equestrian criminal,” she said. “A heretic who murdered one of my closest friends and attempted to assassinate the Princess. I had nearly destroyed her ship when those black ships- -this ‘Thebe’- -intervened.” Starlight’s expression hardened. “That makes them my enemy.”

“A commonality we share,” said Babylon. “Although for different reasons. We have yet to ascertain their motives, but at present, we know them to be thieves. Not of ordinary items, mind you. Their targets tend to be advanced and experimental technology, with a strong focus on Reaper artifacts.” She paused. “Although…in some cases synths have been killed and found with, well, pieces missing.”

Starlight shivered. “They…they took parts of their bodies?”

“Yes,” said Babylon. “And although it is not immediately apparent, we take the desecration of our dead VERY seriously. Even the murder of a synth is a serious anomaly.”

“Although the Reaper thefts are just as concerning,” said Four. “Only a few days ago, we lost a critical artifact that was en-route from turian space.”

“But it does not stop there. They have broken into critical research laboratories, military installations- -even destroyed ships that use that technology. The situation is growing worse, although we once again maintain our advantage in that synths appear to be resistant to infection.”

Starlight was confused. “What do you mean ‘infection’?”

“That is what we believe Thebe is,” said Marc Antony. “A viral ideology. We have not yet discovered discerned the etiology, but it appears to behave like a highly selective contagion.” He looked up at Babylon. “The wendigoes did severe damage to the crew, but we have recovered some partial bodies for our research. Finding even partially intact ships and Theban zealots will be a boon to our understanding of their organization.”

“But it is not enough,” said Babylon. “An organization that has the audacity to dream of stealing from the Alliance and the expertise to succeed is a profound threat. And, from the look of it, one not just to us. Which is why, Starlight Glimmer, I would like to ask for your help.”

“Me? I’m not sure what I can do.”

“You said that your mission is to eliminate a criminal.”

“Yes. But the organization she is working for does not concern me. Only Scootaloo.”

“Of course. Nor would I expect one pony to take Thebe alone, especially one who has completely lost the use of her biotics. No. I want the criminal.”

“No,” said Starlight flatly. “She will not be captured alive.”

“She does not need to be. We will be able to extract the information we need from her brain alone.”

Starlight blinked. “You can do that?”

“Of course,” said Quatre. “Although the brain is destroyed in the process. It is actually rather interesting to watch when it is still attached. The screaming is almost musical.”

“We are, of course, willing to help,” said Babylon. “Our alliance is important to me. Therefore, I will grant you far more than just two Spectres. The entire Alliance navy will be at your disposal. Fifty million ships. More, if you need them made. Even the Hyperion itself if that is what it takes to end the Theban scourge.”

“And my Spectres?”
Babylon considered for a moment. “Yes. In the spirit of friendship between our nations, you may keep them alive if you wish and take them with you, if you suspect their experience would aid in defeating our mutual enemy.

Starlight was surprised, but tried not to show it. Containing herself was not hard; she had no idea if Babylon was actually serious. “You are passionate about this, aren’t you?”

“I only have two real enemies in this galaxy. One is Thebe. Yes. Its eradication is of great importance to me and to the Alliance.”

“A sentiment many of us share,” added Marc Antony. “Because we don’t think they’re just reselling the artifacts and the pieces of our corpses. We think they’re making something.”

Starlight paused. “What kind of thing?” she asked.

“Hopefully,” said Babylon, “with your help, we will never need to find out.”

Author's Note

It's not immediately apparent, but like all my crossovers, Mass Core is a three-way. The synths, wendigoes, Bob, and Babylon (and Eloth) are drawn from a non-pony story called "Vocqutus" that I wrote some time back. In that universe, Babylon (Suszan Amadeus) is a sort of quasi-goddess.

That said, this universe lets me explore synth society a little better. I imagine that since they don't have physical needs, they don't rely heavily on cooperation. As such, they create an objectivist society as opposed to the geth's communal system. The two are meant, to an extent, as foils to each other.