The state Scootaloo was left in was not pure unconsciousness. On some level she was awake, but even as her mind desperately tried to comprehend what was around her, she found herself unable to understand where or who she was. In the distance, she saw a bright light over her, and heard frantic voices yelling. She felt the pain as the blades cut into her, and was not sure if that was a bad thing or a good thing. It all felt so distant, and she could feel herself slipping. She wanted to go to sleep. It would have been so easy. She was just so tired. Part of her, though, was desperately trying to bring the confused world into focus, to wake back up. She was trapped somewhere in between, and that part of her that could not manage to think was terrified that she might never leave this horrible state.

Eventually, though, Scootaloo decided that it was too much. Even with how distant it was, she did not want to wake back up into the pain. There was no reason to. She had accomplished everything she could, and it was time to sleep. Accepting this, she closed her eyes and began to let her mind sink into peace.

“Typical,” said a voice beside her.

Scootaloo’s eyes immediately shot open. Even through all of its distortion, it was a voice that she knew all too well: it was her own. She slowly turned her head to the side, and through the swimming and failing world around her, she saw a pony standing beside her, beyond the blurred images of the violent alicorns desperately trying to save her life. The pony was dressed completely in armor, with her face covered by a faceplate that was featureless save for a white circle that moved across it to focus on Scootaloo. Unlike the rest of the world, Xyuka was the only thing that was clear and sharp.

“You wouldn’t be the first,” she said. “We tend to be strong, but I have seen oh so many of us give up like you are. Just another weakling. Not nearly as strong as I became. Go to sleep. You deserve it.” She gave a long, mechanical sigh. “But I hoped that you would be better. You, I actually liked. So very few of us are like me, but you were. One of precious few.”

“I am not like you,” whispered Scootaloo. It took everything she had to speak, but making that assertion was the most important thing she could possibly do. “I…I’m not…”

Xyuka lifted her hoof to her face and removed the mask. Behind it was the face of an orange colored mare, young but impossibly old, her violet eyes framed by thin wisps of long violet hair. “I am you,” she said, now in exactly Scootaloo’s voice. “I always have been. And you are me. Or you will become me. Eventually.”

By this time, the world around them had faded to black. Across the void, though, Scootaloo could see strange flashes of pink-violet light. One would erupt and slowly trail across the sky, bringing with it the distant sounds of voices or parts of ideas. Scootaloo looked up at them, fascinated.

“She is coming,” said Xyuka. “Don’t let her touch you. Because if she does, there won’t be anything left to finish what I started. You need to survive, Scootaloo. To become ME.”

The world suddenly went black completely, and both Xyuka and the distant storm vanished from sight. Scootaloo slowly stirred, and realized that her eyes were closed. Slowly, her mind began to function again, and she opened them slowly.

The sudden blinding light was exceedingly painful, and Scootaloo winced.

“Shit,” she groaned. “Buck me in the PLOT.” She was surprised by the sound of her voice; it was raspy and unpleasant, as though she had been screaming for a long time. “Am I dead?”

“No, Scootaloo. Thank Satin you’re not.”

Scootaloo’s eyes focused, and she realized that she was attached to an inclined table. The lights above her were the kind one would see in a surgical center. It seemed that once again Scootaloo had awoken in the hospital.

She looked across the room, where Six was staring back at her, smiling. The alicorn looked immensely tired, but also immensely relieved. Her body was spattered with blood, but she hardly seemed to notice. Scootaloo immediately knew who it was who had saved her life.

It was who was standing with Six, though, that made her breath catch. Behind Six was a human woman. The only thing she was wearing was a knee-length skirt and a necklace with a metallic gem that glowed with an odd blue color, as well as a much heavier coat of Scootaloo’s blood. Scootaloo did not even need to ask who she was, because she looked exactly as she had two and a half centuries earlier: pale, grayish skin, an unpleasantly proportioned wiry body, and thick, greasy black hair that had since grown to the length of her rear. The only difference that Scootaloo could see was an extensive scar that circumscribed her neck, passing through the various tattoos that had been placed there involuntarily in her youth.

“Sup,” she said, taking one hand off the aluminum tray of bloody surgical tools she was holding and waving.

“What the hell?” said Scootaloo, groggily. “How the hell are you still alive?”

“Because my body regenerates faster than the tumors can grow.”

“That’s Deadpool,” said a different but oddly similar voice from the other side of the room. Scootaloo’s eyes quickly shifted to a person seated on the far side of the area, outside of the surgical working region. Scootaloo did not recognize him, although he looked almost freakisly similar to a more pale- -if that was even possible- -male version of Bob, except for the fact that he was fully clothed, including a pair of large gloves, and that his eyes were pink instead of Bob’s blue. He was sitting next to Eight, who was dressed in a severely oversexualized nurse outfit. From the look of tiredness on her face, though, Scootaloo knew that she had been assisting Six at least as much as Bob had, despite her strange choice in clothing.

“Deadpool can suck my infected clit!” She looked across the room at the human male. “Oh wait, no he can’t. Because that’s your job!”

Six and Eight immediately looked at the man, their eyes wide with surprise and the hope that Bob was joking.

“You didn’t,” said Eight.

The man shrugged. “It’s not that bad. I think of it like a seaside vacation. On account of the crabs and the strong odor of low-tide.”

Six immediately ran across the room to a biohazardous waste container and dry-heaved.

“Why…why does that thought turn me on?” said Eight, looking ashamed.

“Oh come on!” exclaimed Bob. “Remember, you came out of that vagina! Each and every one of you! Do you have any idea how hard it is to push eight ponies out of there? All the little horns and the hooves and the wings- -the WINGS! Oh, wait, no, of course you don’t know, because not ONE of you is trying to get me grandchildren!”

“But…but I don’t want my mare parts stretched out,” said Eight, seemingly terrified of the idea.

“Oh please,” said Six, pulling her head up and wiping her mouth with a towel. “Like it isn’t already?”

Scootaloo groaned, and Six immediately devoted all her attention to her. “Easy,” she said, putting her hoof on Scootaloo’s left shoulder. “You need to take this slow. For a few minutes, I was sure that I had lost you.”

“I had given up, really,” said Bob. “But Six kept pushing. It was actually impressive.”

“You…you saved me,” said Scootaloo, looking into her friend’s eyes. “Thank you, Six.”

Six smiled, but she looked more sad than anything else. “There was only so much I could do, though. The injury, it was substantial, and with the persistent injuries, I just…”

Scootaloo sat up suddenly. “Wait…the injury! My leg, what- -” She looked to her right limb and froze in horror. She lifted her front leg and turned it over in her grasp. It was not a hoof, but rather a metallic, skeletal arm with an articulated, hand like claw on the end. Scootaloo felt herself breathing hard, trying to rationalize what was happening, to avoid remembering, but it was impossible. The robotic arm that had been attached to her was identical to the one that Xyuka had worn.

Suddenly she was screaming, trying to pull herself away from the machine. “NO!” she wailed. “I’m not you! I’M NOT YOU!”

Six did not know how to respond and jumped back, terrified at Scootaloo’s reaction. Bob dropped her tray and rushed forward, though. Scootaloo tried to fight her, but the woman was surprisingly strong and wrapped herself around Scootaloo. She smelled absolutely horrible, and having that much disgusting, unwashed skin against her disgusted Scootaloo to no end.

“Shh, shhh,” said Bob, holding her reeking head close to Scootaloo’s and running her hand through Scootaloo’s hair. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Let go of me! Get off- -”

The grip on Scootaloo’s head suddenly became much tighter. “If you don’t like it, I can fix it,” said Bob. “Just one little twist. One little snap. You’ll barely feel it. Do you want it, Scootaloo? Do you want me to make it all better?”

Scootaloo stopped resisting as she felt Bob’s grip tighten, ready to do what she needed to. Scootaloo took a few more deep breaths, ignoring the fact that Bob had apparently never bathed. Then, finally, she became somewhat more calm.

“Get off me,” she said, slowly. “You smell like a dumpster full of rotten meat and your tiny breasts poking into me are making me feel uncomfortable.”

Bob looked annoyed, but then smiled and pulled herself back. “You know you liked it, you little filly-fooler.”

Scootaloo gasped for fresh air, then turned to Six, who looked like she was on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s my fault, I- -I couldn’t get the limb back. And with the damage, I- -I- -”

“Six,” said Scootaloo. “Six, it’s okay. You did what you could.”

“But I could have done more! And now- -now look what I did to you!”

“It’s not that bad,” lied Scootalo, flexing her new elbow and clenching a fist with her claw-like fingers. “You did good work.”

“I’m just glad it wasn’t me this time,” said Bob. “Losing arms hurts like a bitch.”

“Something you would know plenty about, I think,” said the man across the room.

“And who are you?” said Scootaloo, annoyed.

“I am Eloth,” said Eloth. “Hello, Scootaloo. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“He’s my fucktoy,” whispered Bob, as though it were a secret.

“Only because I can survive being sodomized with bladed instruments,” said Eloth, darkly. “Or that thing she does where she slits her lover’s throat when she finishes. I’m not a fan of that one either.”

“Oh please. You love being my bitch.”

Eloth took a long sight. “Yes. I do.”

“Mother, this isn’t appropriate,” said Six. “Look how stiff poor Eight’s wings are getting!” She turned to Scootaloo. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But honestly I don’t know how much I could have done without her help.”

“Her?” said Scootaloo, pointing with one of her new fingers. “Her? Really?”

“What?” said Bob. “Just because I’m hot doesn’t mean I can’t be smart enough to perform surgery? I’m not an idiot. I know which parts go where.”

“One, you’re not hot. Not even close. Two, what the HELL?!”

“What? The idea of me poking around in your insides, sliding around in your fluids, it doesn’t appeal to you?”

There was a yelp from across the room. Eight, who had just barely gotten her wings under control, had cried out as they exploded outward with a loud “pomf”. She started crying. “Why am I such a pervert? Why?”

“Because you’re your mother’s daughter,” said Bob.

Scootaloo slid down off the table and immeiatly nearly fell over. Had Six not braced her with magic, she would have collapsed.

“Oh buck,” said Scootaloo. “Six, what did you do to me?”

“I had to replace a lot of your blood. But I also put you on some heavy drugs. You shouldn’t be walking around. Let me transfer you to a bed so you can rest.”

“Ohh!” said Eight. “Six wants to get you in bed!”

“I’m fine,” said Scootaloo, pulling herself away from Six’s telekinetic force. She stood on her three organic legs, and then hesitantly set her robotic foot down. As soon as she put weight on it, and incrediably pain tore through her shoulder, but she refused to scream.

“Scootaloo,” said Six, sounding greatly concerned. “You’re in pain, let me- -”

“No,” said Scootaloo. “It’s part of my body now. I need to get used to it.” She gingerly took a step, doing her best to ignore the pain.

“Wow,” said Bob, crouching down near Scootaloo. From the angle of her skirt, Scootaloo could tell that she was not wearing any underwear beneath it. “You’re one tough pony, aren’t you? I can see why my daughter has the hots for you. Not physically, though. I’m not into horses.”

“Again, not true,” said Eloth.

“Oh, please! It was ONE time! And let me just say, he did better than you!”

“Excuse me?! It’s not my fault!” He pointed at Six. “It’s hers!”

“Me?” said Six, offended and confused. “What have I done?”

“You’re the biggest! It’s your fault!”

“Don’t blame my daughter for your own inadequacies!”

Eloth stood up in a huff. “I don’t have to take this,” he said, calmly. He reached down and picked up Eight, tucking her under his arm and exiting the room.

“I’m lying,” said Bob, after a moment, smiling. “He’s fine. I should know. I built him that way.”

Scootaloo was not sure what that meant, nor did she bother to ask. Instead she was focused on the fact that the door had not a automatically closed after Eloth had left through it. It had remained open, and a green-colored hologram was peering through.

“Inte?” said Scootaloo, limping to the door.

“Captain!” cried the hologram, litterally bouncing with joy. “You’re not as dead as I expected you to be!” Her eyes shifted to Scootaloo’s arm. “Oh, a new prosthesis! I think it looks excellent! Very sexy, Captain!”

“Did you program her to be this annoying?” asked Bob.

“No,” said Six. “Apparently, the quant came that way.”

“Inte,” said Scootaloo, still drowsy and hurt. “Why are you out there?”

Inte’s expression changed from one of happiness to one of extreme downtroddeness.”I can’t come in! The soft-winged harlot has disabled the holographic projectors in the medical bay!”

“Harlot?” cried Six, sounding terribly offended. “How dare you!”

“Heh,” said Bob, putting her hand on her daughter’s head. “If you keep up at this pace and earning all your merit badges, you’ll graduate to honest-to-god whore by the time your my age.”

“You’re not that much older than her,” said Scootaloo.

Bob raised an eyebrow. “I had her in my sixties. I’m hella old.”

“Mother, please don’t say that. Ever again.”

“Hella.”

Scootaloo ignored them and stepped out into the hallway. As soon as she did, Inte gave her a massless but crushing hug. The hardlight of her body felt strange, like temperatureless vibrating force, and although it hurt immensely to be squeezed so tightly, she appreciated the idea.

“Don’t do that,” said Six, shoeing Inte away from Scootaloo after several moments.

“But I’m just so happy!”

“No you’re not. You’re programmed to act happy.”

“That is correct,” admitted Inte. “I don’t actually care if any of you live or die! Yay ambivalence!” She began skipping down the hallway, humming a cheerful tune.

“I like it,” said Bob, brushing some of the dried Scootaloo blood off body and licking the wetter parts of it off her hands. “Annoying, but vaguely psychotic. Could use some nice fluffy wings, though.”

“I know, right?”

“My current settings are more than adequate!” called Inte. She turned around at the far end of the hallway and yelled back. “Oh! Captain, I just had an excellent idea! Because I was programmed to!”

Light suddenly began to condense around Scootaloo, resolving around her robotic leg. It hardened into a hologram that though somewhat translucent was roughly the same color and shape of her original hoof. Scootaloo flexed it, feeling the hologram automatically reconfigure around her. It had no weight or sensation, but Scootaloo still found herself breathing harder and harder. That was exactly how HERS had looked beneath all that armor.

“Thank you, Inte,” she said, trying her best not to make her emotions highly known. Six did not seem to have realized that anything was wrong, but Bob was not as oblivious. Thankfully, though, although she knew Scootaloo was experiencing more pain that from simply having her arm removed, she did not point it out.

Scootaloo just sighed and accepted what she could. Then she tried to change the subject. “How did you even find me, anyway?” she asked Bob. “We were supposed to be hidden. WELL hidden.”

“How? Oh.” Bob tilted her head and put her index finger against her neck, just over the scar that circled it. “The old Cerberus tracking chip I put in you. Imagine my surprise when that thing actually started, you know, moving after two centuries.”

“Trac- -tracking chip?” Scootaloo grabbed at her neck. “What- - how did- -when did you put a chip in my neck?!”

“After you pile-drove a pile of my daughters. Still impressed by that, Scoots.”

Scootaloo suddenly remembered. “You- -you bitch!”

“You injected her?” said Six, angrily.

“I inject a lot of people with a lot of things,” said Bob, shrugging.

“Damn it, mom…” Six sighed. “But that does explain the ridiculous blood-nanite concentration.”

Scootaloo looked at Six, not fully knowing what she had just said. “What? Nanites?”

“I’m going to second that,” said Bob. “What nanites?”

“You…you injected her with nanites, didn’t you?” Bob shook her head. “Oh…” Six turned to Scootaloo. “I did not notice them initially until your injury triggered, but your blood contains an extremely high quantity of microscopic machines per unit volume. I assumed you put them there, or she did. I now think it explains firstly how you survived cryogenic stasis and, second, the only reason you survived a substantial reave injury with no apparent scars. I mean, apart from the missing limb.”

“Mic…microscopic machines?”

“It’s not uncommon,” said Six. “Geth have them. Most synths do. Even Seven does. But yours…” She shook her head. “They’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Not geth. Not Alliance. Just…well, I assumed they were Equestrian.”

“We don’t have that kind of technology.”

“Oh. Well then it is a fortunate mystery, no?”

Scootaloo’s teeth suddenly clenched as she realized that, no, it was not in fact a fortunate mystery. It was neither. There was only one pony that she knew who would have that kind of technology. A pony who had them herself- -and a robotic right foreleg identical to the one Scootaloo was now attached to.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” said Bob, smiling viciously as if she could smell weakness. For all Scootaloo knew, she could.

Scootaloo stopped walking and turned sharply. “Why are you here, Bob?”

“Scootaloo,” said Six. “She helped save your life- -”

“And I’m grateful for that. I really am. But I’m really, REALLY not in the mood for her right now.” She glared at the human, who smiled back. “Well?”

“Well what? Can’t a woman visit her adorable horse daughters from time to time?”

“My own horseshit. You know that’s not the reason you’re here.”

Bob sighed, and leaned back until she was nearly facing the ceiling. Then she suddenly leaned forward, her blue eyes and their slit-pupils glaring back at Scootaloo. “Because wherever you are, interesting things tend to happen. Now, don’t get me wrong. Eloth is a great guy. For a quant. But I get bored.”

“And that is not MY problem. I’m not here to entertain you.”

“Um, no. You pretty much are. That is kind of the point of the universe, isn’t it? It all exists for my personal entertainment.” She giggled. “Besides. It’s not like you can make me leave, can you now?”

Bob had been correct. There was really nothing she could do to make the woman leave. That said, though, Bob was not a substantial problem. She had mostly relegated herself to the lower portion of the ship, staying primarily with Nine- -or rather, that Nine seemed to have a strange and slightly overt incestuous obsession with her mother and therefore stayed at her side constantly. Six and Inte were with them as well. Seven sat curled in on the edge of the darkened observation deck with Scootaloo, staring out at the stormy crimson gas giant and inky void of space with her. Scootaloo had no idea where Eight had gone; her lifesigns had apparently vanished from the ship completely.

Scootaloo leaned back in her chair, looking through the images that surrounded her and listening to the calm hum of Inte’s engines as her ship orbited the unnamed and obscure world below. Scootaloo was not even sure what galaxy she was in, nor did she care. She was glad to be alive- -but somehow, could not bring herself to be truly happy about that fact.

“I guess it’s not that bad,” she said into the silence. Seven looked at her, knowing that she had been tangentially addressed. “She’s not a bad person. Well, she is, but…she’s your mother. All of your mother. And she makes you happy, I guess.”

Seven nodded slightly, and then turned back to the view.

“I never even knew my mother,” said Scootaloo, now to herself more than anything. “I always wondered what it feels like.” She looked to Seven. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess you’re right. A person who’s always there for you, no matter what she is or what you do.” Scootaloo frowned, wondering how she had known that Seven was thinking about that.

There was a flash of red light and a popping, hissing sound. Scootaloo turned sharply to see Eloth teleport onto the other side of the room, opposite Seven.

“I suppose that would be the definition of ‘family’,” he said.

“If only,” said Scootaloo. Not looking at Eloth but at the planet outside, she spoke to him. “I didn’t know you could teleport.”

“I can,” he said, simply. Then, “I came up here because it is so loud down there. Bob is…sometimes difficult to deal with. I hope you don’t mind.”

“You love her anyway, though.”

“Love? No. I am not capable of love, unfortunately. Although I tolerate her. Which is more than most can.”

Scootaloo could not stop her eyes from shifting toward him. Superficially, he looked innocuous, even innocent with his pupils dilated and enormous. Still, something was wrong with the way he just stared blankly, and how those eyes were organic but did not seem quite alive.

“You’re not human, are you?” she said.

“No. Well, mostly no. The skin is.” He lifted his hands and arms, as if showing them off through his clothing. “I do so enjoy making these. It took so many tries to get it right. Peeling it off intact is quite a challenge. It does not work well if they are already dead.”

“Then what are you underneath there?” She looked across the room at Seven. “What is a Reaper?”

“A soldier,” said Eloth. “A very old soldier.”

“Soldier? From what war?”

“All of them.”

“I don’t understand.”

Eloth’s expression grew distant. “History is long. So much longer than you mortals can comprehend…only twice we were defeated. Once by a race called the Vkuth, who are now dead by their own hand, and once again three hundred and fourteen years ago by the Shepard. The race called leviathan resurrected us once. It was Robette who did it the second time.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I was a soldier,” said Eloth, again, “millions of years old, and yet defeated in the final War. My body was damaged and broken, trapped on a forgotten, barren planet. I was dead and alone, severed from my brothers. Until she found me.”

“And she rebuilt you.”

He nodded. “She gave me this body, and this mind, and brought me back to finish the War. But when I returned, it was too late. The fighting was over, and my brothers…my poor brothers. They had been enslaved by a madman, their minds subsumed by his inferior will.”

“So what are you to her, then? A weapon? A sex slave?”

“Yes and yes and no. I already told you. Based on your own definition: we are family.” He looked up at the planet. “She intrigues me. And I think I intrigue her. So our relationship is amiable.”

“You’re lying.”

Eloth looked surprised. “Lying? Not that I am aware of.”

“You’re like her. You have an endgame. Nothing she does is selfless, none of it kind. She’s planning something. And it is going to end badly for all of us.” She turned to him. “So what are you in this for?”

“For?” He smiled. “You misunderstand my purpose, Scootaloo. I can call you Scootaloo? Are we friends?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

His smile faded. “Oh. Well, yes. I’m a Reaper. We are, by definition, not intelligent lifeforms. VI’s, quants, crawlers; pieces. We are fragments. I am no different from your ship’s quant. I have no independent thoughts, no will. No Reaper framework to compel me. I exist without purpose.”

“So then why do you exist at all?”

“Why? Such an organic question to ask.” He shifted slightly, turning his whole body to face Scootaloo. “‘Purpose’ is really a pointless idea. I have no desire for one, nor need for it. I simply am.”

Seven stirred. “You have the power of a god,” said Scootaloo. “What you could do with that…”

“You are Equestrian,” said Eloth. “You of all beings should be familiar with how much initiative gods tend to take in their omnipotence.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, realizing that he was right. “Too much work, I guess.”

“But…” said Eloth, hesitantly, “I can sometimes help when I want to.”

“You ‘want’?”

“A figure of speech,” he said, dismissively. “But in this case…I do not mind helping you.”

“I don’t need help with anything.”

“I spoke with Six,” he said. “She has told me that you murdered your wife.”

Scootaloo felt her grip tighten on the edge of her armrests, and Seven bristled.

“That is none- -NONE- -of your business,” said Scootaloo, trying not to clench her teeth from anger that he had brought that fact up. “Nor is it your problem or anything you can help with.”

“So angry,” said Eloth. “It’s not like it even matters. All things die. All civilizations end. Only the Reapers are eternal, and even then only as an idea. I have overseen the extermination of countless trillions of lives. What is one pony in the scale of the cosmos?”

“You really are a quant,” said Scootaloo. “Or else you would already know the answer to that question.”

“But that isn’t my point. Six has informed me that your memory is, at present, damaged. I may be able to repair it.”

Scootaloo jumped out of her chair with enough speed to startle Seven. “You what?”

Eloth nodded. “Yes. Every civilization we consume advances us. The last one we devoured was a race called prothean. They were…primitive. Violent, unevolved, arrogant fools. But their mental interface technology was novel, even to us. Incorporating it allowed out indoctrination efficiency to increase one hundredfold.”

“I don’t need to know the history. Can you fix me?”

“Yes,” said Eloth. “Using an indoctrination protocol, I may be able to reconfigure the damaged portions of your brain. One effect would be that your memories would return.”

“Then do it.”

“Wait,” said Eloth. “I’m not finished. There is a catch.”

“What kind of catch?”

“Indoctrination was not designed for this use. It requires me to be…creative. If you survive, there is a strong possibility that you will suffer permanent psychological damage. No one can recover from indoctrination; you do not come out the same way you went in.” He paused. “That, and these memories may be best hidden.”

“I’ll take that chance.”

Seven stood up. “No,” she said. Both Scootaloo and Eloth looked to her in utter shock. “I will not…allow it.” Her voice was raspy, and Scootaloo could immediately tell that she had a severe lisp. “I will not.” She shook her head. “You will…not hurt Scootaloo. Not like that. I will…not allow it.”

“Seven…”

“It is her choice,” said Eloth. “Not yours.” He turned to Scootaloo. “With that said, though. Think well on this subject. I don’t care if you die. In fact, I will likely roast you with garlic and feed you to Robette if you do with no remorse or regret. But I would prefer if the choice to destroy yourself falls on you and you alone.”

There was another small explosion of red light, and he vanished. Scootaloo stared at the dust he left behind for a moment, and then slowly turned to Seven. Seven, ashamed, lowered her head and began to move toward the door. Scootaloo stopped her, which was not difficult. Seven looked confused, and Scootaloo reached up with her robotic arm and took hold of the side of Seven’s visor. Sven resisted for a moment, but allowed Scootaloo to remove it. Under it, she had beautiful large eyes, perhaps even more so than the Real Twilight’s save for the fact that they faced different directions.

Scootaloo hugged her, and Seven initially seemed surprised but hugged back after a moment.

“Thank you,” said Scootaloo. “For that, and for everything.”

Seven remained silent, but she did not need to speak. Scootaloo already knew how she felt.

When Scootaloo left the bridge, the ship had gone into a night cycle. The hallways were lit with dim white points of light imbedded on either ceiling, replicating the light of Equestria Prime’s moon. Scootaloo felt tired, but knew that she would hardly be able to sleep. She had spent enough time unconscious when Six had been working to save her life. More than that, though, Scootaloo had a feeling that if she tried to sleep, something- - or somepony- -would be waiting on the other side for her, watching.

The ship had mostly gone silent. Scootaloo could not hear the others moving around, even though she was mostly sure that Bob was nocturnal. Wherever they were, though, they had left Scootaloo alone, at least until Six appeared at the far end of the hallway.

Seeing Scootaloo, Six hesitated for an unexpectedly long moment before approaching. Even in the low light, Scootaloo could tell that Six had recently bathed. She was no longer covered in blood, but instead was perfectly clean. Her long, muscular wings had been preened to perfection, and although Scootaloo felt a twinge of jealousy at their size and volume, she immediately felt her heart beat just a little bit faster at the sight of them. She also realized that it had been a long time since she had seen Six without clothing. In the artificial moonlight, she was more handsome than Scootaloo had recalled.

“Scootaloo,” said Six. “I…” she paused, and then sighed. Her expression fell. “Never mind.” She started to walk past Scootaloo, but Scootaloo stopped her.

“Six. What is it?”

“I…It’s my fault,” she said, reversing herself to face Scootaloo. “All of it is my fault!”

“I told you,” said Scootaloo, firmly. “I can get used to the arm. You did a good job.”

“No, I didn’t! As soon as you came to me, I should have mass-jumped you straight to Andromeda, hid you somewhere where they couldn’t find you!”

“We both know I didn’t want that,” said Scootaloo.

“But I should have insisted! I almost lost you and Seven, and then I got fucking arrogant!” She looked into Scootaloo’s eyes, and Scootaloo saw that she was on the verge of tears. “I told you Feros was safe. I promised you! I was goddamn there with the others, and I still didn’t stop this!”

“It’s not your fault.”

“But it IS! I should have known the Justicar was there! I should have protected you! And- -and the best I can fucking do is THIS!” She gently lifted Scootaloo’s new arm in her magic.

“We covered this- -”

“I’m not an idiot, Scootaloo! I saw the look on your face! You’re so young, and I got you maimed, by MY mistake. When you saw what I had to do to try to fix it…I…” She had started overtly crying. “I failed. I failed badly. I finally get you back, and I just ended up hurting you. You must ha- -”

Scootaloo leaned forward, having to stand on her back legs slightly and wrap her left foreleg though Six’s long violet mane, and kissed her. Six’s eyes went wide, and Scootaloo felt her quiver.

“Wh…why?” said Six when Scootaloo pulled away.

“I’m not an idiot either,” said Scootaloo. “Not that you hide it well anyway. This is what you want, isn’t it?”

“But- -”

“How do you feel about me, Six?” asked Scootaloo.

“We’re- -we’re friends. You’re one of my best friends- -”

“Six. If we are going to do this, you need to trust me.”

Six wiped her eyes, and then took a deep breath. “I love you, Scootaloo. I know that sounds impossible, but…but I’ve loved you for three hundred years.”

Scootaloo smiled. “See? Was that so hard?”

“Yes.”

“Come on,” she said, leading Six to a side room.

“Come on? Where are we going?”

“I know what you want, Six…Delilah. And I want it to. Not an estrus-fueled orgy with you and your sisters. Just the two of us.”

“You mean…”

Scootaloo gave Six her most seductive smile, which she knew was more goofy than sexy. Six hardly seemed to care, and she returned Scootaloo’s expression with the most joyous smile Scootaloo had ever seen on a pony. Then Scootaloo felt herself being lifted from the ground and cradled in Six’s magic. It felt as though she was flying, and she leaned in to kiss Six far more passionately than she had before. Then the two of them stepped into the side room, closing the door behind them.

Author's Note

Bob is very fun to write.