Mass Core 3: Thebe Paridigm

It was almost frightening how empty the Hyperion was. Lordraia had walked through it several times. There were no limits to where she was allowed to go, but there was nothing to see. There was no crew, no synths, not even a quant. It was completely empty, filled with nothing but empty rooms and air that had been perfectly mixed to match the atmosphere Earth had once had before the Reaper War had irreparably contaminated and killed it with eezio pollution.

Locutus, unfortunately, had failed to mention that her teleportation system only worked in one direction. Lordraia supposed she should have known this, or been able to realize it, but in her panic she had overlooked that glaring issue. As a result, both she and Artum were trapped.

The stress of it was almost palpable, and it was worse for Artum than Lordraia. This was the flagship not just of the advanced fleet but of the entire Alliance armada, and it was poised to mass-jump to and immediately ravage Thessia. Both Lordaia and Artum knew that if that happened, they would be powerless to stop Babylon. They would be invited to watch as she tore their world apart for natural resources.

Ironically, the only part of the ship that was even remotely calming was what seemed to function as the bridge. Most of the ship seemed to be populated by mutated, cybernetic greenery, but the vast majority of it seemed to be for the purpose of operating nanomanufacturing facilities. The main bridge, though, was a true forest, a purely aesthetic setting built out of the same modified plants that had originally been intended for far more utilitarian means. It was ironic because as much as Lordraia and Artum were drawn to that area, it was also the area where Babylon spent most of her time.

She did not seem to do much. She almost never spoke unless addressed first, and would rarely if ever move. She would just sit for hours at a time, staring out at space. On occasion she would stand up and walk to the windows, or through the other parts of the ship, but Lordraia almost never saw her do it.

It was a situation like this when Lordraia and Artum were standing on the bridge, watching the Alliance fleet waiting outside when Babylon suddenly blinked and sat up.

“There’s a transmission coming through,” she said, sounding both curious and distantly amused.

“I thought you weren’t taking any calls,” said Artum.

“I’m not. But this signature…it interests me.”

The space near Artum suddenly distorted, and he barely managed to dodge the formation of a hard-light hologram. Lordraia had never seen a hologram of that type form before, especially without an obvious projector. She was only distracted for a moment before she straightened her clothes. She disliked having to wear the same outfit for more than three hours at a time, but she knew that she would have to make do. She needed to look good. Anyone important enough to interest the Empress must be an important person indeed, and she hoped against hope that she could use this person somehow to provide leverage toward her cause.

The hologram formed, representing itself in full color. A figure materialized mid-step as he walked across the floor, approaching the Empress and pausing a few meters from her dais. Lordraia was immediately taken aback by what she was seeing. Like many asari, she was old enough to remember what humanity had looked like. They were long extinct, though, and yet somehow Lordraia found herself staring at the holographic representation of a man.

By human standards, he was not unattractive. His hair was gray, and his face slightly lined by middle age. He wore a strange suit of a type that appeared to have gone out of fashion tens of decades earlier. The strangest part of his person, though, was his strange luminescent blue eyes.

The man lifted a cigarette to his mouth and took a long drag, letting a plume of beautifully rendered holographic smoke escape his mouth.

“Empress,” he said, slowly and calmly. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Hmm.” Babylon leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs as she did. “You should not be alive right now, I think.”

The man smiled and produced a small, hoarse laugh. “Alive? Empress, I can’t die. Even if Cerberus is long gone, there will always be an Illusive Man looking out for the best interest of humanity. And believe me, no one in this galaxy is more interested in humanity’s gain than I am.”

His eyes drifted slowly toward Artum and Lordraia. For a moment, the seemed to shift. Lordraia blinked, not sure if what she had seen was even real. They were clearly cybernetic implants, not unlike Sbayavdulig’s mother had. For a moment, though, Lordraia could have sworn that instead they appeared as pure blue organic eyes with strange, vertical slits for pupils.

“Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?” said Artum.

“Please,” he said. “Looking at the situation?” He took another drag form his cigarette. “I think that humanity’s in a better position than the asari are about to be in.”

“What is it, exactly, that you want?” asked Babylon, sounding increasingly bored.

“Suszan, Suszan…I’m just here to help.”

“The last time you tried to ‘help’ I had to vaporize a turian colony world to eliminate the witnesses.”

“Wait,” said Artum. “That was you?!”

“And who is it that got the turians hooked on choloroquine in the first place?” The Illusive Man sighed. “But that’s old news. I might as well be bragging about how I convinced that fool Shepard to…well, we all know what color he chose. That’s not the point, and it’s not why I’m here.”

“No. You’re here to annoy me, no doubt. I’m currently in telepathic communication with the greatest armada this galaxy has seen in over one hundred million years. Not that such a thing would concern you.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Then I’ll ask again, and only one more time. Why are you here?”

“I’m here to tell you that your plan is entering its final stage.”

Babylon raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come, Suszan. We’re friends. You don’t need to lie to me. That’s the thing with synths, you know. You’re all so damn easy to read. But you don’t need to admit it. You just need to know.”

“Know what?” said Lordraia.

“That the final decision is about to be made,” said the Illusive Man, suddenly glaring at her hungrily. “The goddess has risen, and whichever direction this goes, the end is finally here.”

Across the universe, a violet pony stood absolutely alone on the highest balcony of the Temple of Harmony, flanked closely on both sides by a pair of identical alicorns. Out in the distance, the red-orange sun was rising over the cityscape of Canterlot, and the three of them stared out at its light in silence.

To her world, she was known as Twilight. She knew, though, that she was not. She never had been, even with as hard as she had pretended.

“You even came to believe it yourself, didn’t you?” said one of the others.

“Yeah. I did,” said the first, allowing herself to speak with her true accent. It felt strange in her mouth, and it made her profoundly sad. There was no one around to break the illusion to save for herself, and she was surprised at how much it hurt to admit the truth.

She did not have a name. Unlike her surviving younger sisters, she had never internalized the birth-order number she had been given in that way. The others had taken their numbers and filled them, converting them into something more than a code assigned by Cerberus. To One, though, it was just that. A code to remind her that she had been produced artificially. That she was not even a real pony.

“That you don’t even deserve a name.”

“That no one loved you enough to give you one.”

“You had to steal one.”

“Of course. Why would they give you a name? You’re not real.”

“Just a copy. A fake. You always have been.”

“You don’t deserve love. You don’t deserve a name.”

“What you deserve is to die. We know that’s what you want.”

One of the others stepped close to the edge of the balcony. “You could jump,” she said. “You would just fall. The impact would be fatal at this height. You would not even feel it.”

“I couldn’t,” sighed One. “My wings would open before the impact. I’ve tried.” She looked out at the sunrise. The orange star was now just over the horizon, filling the sky with the most beautiful display of color. One felt a tear in the corner of her eye.

“Why are you crying?” asked one of the other alicorns, confused.

“She didn’t answer,” said One. “She knows.”

The phantoms remained silent, as if that news were shocking to them. Then one of them spoke. “You know what this means, then?”

“It means that this might be my last sunrise. That’s why I wanted to see it. I just…I wish I could have shared it. With her. Or with either of you.”

“Unfortunately, you already made your choice on that.”

“Did I?”

Once again, they were silent.

“It had to happen eventually,” said One after a long pause. “I did my best. And I had a good life.” She paused again. “I had a good life because of her. Because of everything she did for me. That’s what breaks my heart. How much she must hate me, even though to me…to me...”

“But you’re afraid,” said one of the others. Her voice was not the same as it had been for the duration of One’s life. It sounded strange, as though its owner were actually concerned. “You’re afraid to join us.”

“I am. I don’t want to die.” She laughed through her tears. “Isn’t that strange? I’m not even real. I never was alive. Just a copy. And yet I’m afraid of dying.” She paused. “I suppose…I suppose that’s Starlight’s fault, isn’t it?”

“You always knew it would come to this, eventually.”

“I did. And I spent so long trying to hide from it. From what I’ve done. But even if I lived another million years, I never could.”

“Then it should be consolation. When Starlight kills you, you will finally get to rest.”

“Like you did? Cold, alone, and broken? I hate being alone. I’ve always hated it. That’s what terrifies me the most.”

“You were born to be alone.”

“Unlike us, you were meant to be the only survivor.”

“It is not possible to change what you did to us. And to so many others.”

“I know,” said One. “I know.” She turned slowly, and then began to return to the Temple she had built.

“Where are you going?”

“You already know. I have to see her.”

“She will never accept your apology.”

“I know. I wouldn’t accept it either. So I won’t bother to apologize. But if every beautiful dream must come to an end, I want to wake up right. I want to see her one more time. One final time.”

For once, the dream had returned to normal. Starlight felt herself struggling against the bindings around all four of her legs, feeling the familiar fear rushing through her. All she knew was the need to escape, but her filly limbs were too weak to break free. Not that there was anywhere left to go. She did not know where her mother and father had gone, or why they had abandoned her, or why so many strange ponies where moving around her, saying things she did not understand.

Then, as it did in every permutation, the pain began. Starlight screamed as they started cutting and drilling. She struggled and pleaded, promising to be a good filly, but they did not listen. They peeled away the skin from her spine and began to cut away bone, pushing needles and implants into the raw and exposed nerves. In the dream, the pain was just a pale shadow of what the pain once had entailed, but even then it was unimaginable. Starlight wanted to pass out, but they would not let her. She had to be conscious for the procedure to work properly. She had to feel the scalpels and the burning curettage, and the metal being inserted into her tiny body against her will. In the time the dream took place, Starlight had been four years old, and even at that young age, it was the first time she wished that they would cut too deep and just let her die.

This was normally the portion where Starlight would wake up, when hundreds of years ago her mind had begun to break down from the pain and produce the last confused, blurred memories she would possess until she was released from her slavery as a Core in a distant and unfamiliar part of the universe. This time, though, the dream continued.

The pain did not subside, but it grew less. It became a dull ache compounded by a strangely cold sensation produced by the exposed metal that led into Starlight’s spine and brain. She tried not to shiver because that made the pain come back, and she knew that if she screamed again they would come back.

In this semiconscious haze, she realized that the room had suddenly gone silent. This was strange, until the strange silence was interrupted by the sound of horseshoes on the blood-spattered floor. Starlight did her best to turn toward them, but the surgeons had inserted temporary screws into her skull to link her to the surgical supports around her. She could not turn her head.

The other pony did come into view, though. Starlight was surprised to see a filly. Her coat was a beautiful shade of purple, and she was dressed in white and black armor marked on the side by an orange hexagon. The filly had an exposed set of young wings, and a short horn that extended beyond her buzzcut purple mane.

Even in her compromised position, Starlight could tell that something was wrong with the filly. The area around one of her eyes was swollen and dark, and there were barely healed remnants of oddly precise burns and punctures apparent on her exposed skin. Through her hair, Starlight could see that a number of straight, clean lines in her head had been stitched closed.

What was most horrifying, though, were her eyes. They were so empty. Starlight had never seen eyes like that, and she felt a strong surge of fear- -and a stronger surge of pity. She did not understand why the filly was like that, but Starlight instinctively knew the look of a broken pony.

A voice called from the darkness beyond, and the filly turned toward it. She glanced back at Starlight, although only a moment before the voice called back even louder. Then, compelled to obey, the filly started walking toward the voice and into the darkness.

Starlight tried to cry out, to call her back from that inky blackness. She could not seem to bring herself to make a sound, though. Instead, she was forced to remain silent as the filly disappeared from sight.

That was when Starlight awoke. The pain did not immediately subside. The extensive scars of where those implants had once been ached and burned, and she sat up stiffly, her vertebra clicking as she did. The pain hardly concerned her, though. That was normal. It was the strange, nameless emotion that she was feeling. Not pity, like in the dream, but something else. She was not sure what.

As soon as she sat up, though, she realized that she was not alone. Twilight was standing a few feet away, watching her without blinking.

“Where you watching me sleep?” demanded Starlight.

“No,” lied Twilight. She continued to stare at Starlight. “You had the dreams again.”

“How did you- -” Starlight stopped herself, realizing what Twilight meant. “Because you have them too.”

“I do,” said Twilight, “although not in the same way that you do. I do not sleep. I do not need to. Those elements of my memory, being, and identity have been converted to threads of the Paradigm. I am aware of them at all times, and always will be.”

Starlight put her hoof to her head, where she could still feel the long-faded scar that had once been a port to her brain. “Why did they do that to us?”

“For you? It was because you were not nobility. And commoners are not allowed to be strong.” She paused. “But I have to be honest with you, Starlight. My circumstances were different.”

“They made you into a Core. I don’t know how much different it can be.”

“Because I am unique,” said Twilight. “I was not stolen away in the night or uprooted during the collection process. From as soon as early as I could remember, I was told that I would be a Core.”

Starlight’s head snapped to her. “It was voluntary for you. Like Sunset Shimmer.”

“Voluntary?” Twilight laughed humorlessly. “Oh no. It wasn’t. I just knew that it was my eventual destiny. I was chosen by Celestia herself. Trained by her, and under her. She made me an alicorn, only to tear out my spine and seal me in crystal to power Her flagship.” She hesitated. “I don’t begrudge her for that, though. But…there is a certain element to it. To know as a child that you will one day be the engine of a starship. To know that you will never have real friends, or see with your own eyes, or go to school, or fall in love. It’s horrible in its own right to know those things.”

“Is it any better to get stolen from your home with no idea of what’s happening?”

“No,” said Twilight. “They are both different evils. I don’t think that either of us had a choice, though.”

“No Core ever did, except for Sunset. And even then, I’m not that sure. That’s why we ended their use.”

“We?”

“Yes, me and Twi- -” Starlight stopped herself, immediately feeling disgusted- -but also feeling the shadow of that strange nameless emotion once again. “Me and Un,” she said, correcting herself.

“Un and I,” corrected Twilight almost robotically. “No doubt for her own benefit, I’m sure.”

“Yeah…” Starlight laid back down, hoping that she would be able to go back to sleep even if it meant risking the horrors of her past. “Twilight?” she said. “Do you…I know it’s a weird request, but…can you stay here? For a little longer?”

“No,” said Twilight, flatly. She started to walk toward the door. “I need to prepare the fleet. Rest, if you can. Because when you wake up, it will be time to reclaim my throne.”

There was a small pink-violet explosion, and Scootaloo’s sensory input immediately began to stabilize. Though her surroundings were dark, the automatic systems in her suit compensated, making her aware of her surroundings.

“Oh crap,” said Nine, doubling over. “What the hell was that? I feel like I just ate four pounds of bad cheese.”

“Nausea may be a side effect,” said Eight, checking her omnitool. “I did just teleport us across both space and transdimensional…space.”

“You can do that?” said Scootaloo.

“I can now. Apparently. Daddy gave me a rift-transponder. And seeing as the three of us didn’t get splattered across the wide edge of reality’s border, I’d say it worked.”

“Wait,” said Nine, suddenly becoming unusually pale. “That was something that could happen?”

“Well…there was a chance, I guess- -”

“How much of a chance?”

“One in ninety,” estimated Eight.

“Oh. That’s not bad.”

“Inverse. Percent.”

Nine looked confused. “Do I look like some sort of egghead to you? I don’t know how to do math without a calculator.”

“And even then, that’s dubious.”

Scootaloo shivered. She could do math.

“Where exactly are we?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

“Oh,” said Eight, tapping at her omnitool. “The lights. I forgot.”

She clicked, and something buzzed in the distance. Then a set of bright white lights snapped on at the far side of the room, followed by another row, and then another until the room was completely illuminated. Scootaloo found herself standing in an enormous warehouse. It was the size of the kind of hanger-drydock that would normally be associated with dreadnaught class starships. Instead of a ship, though, it was filled with what Scootaloo could mentally only describe as “stuff”.

“Holy crap,” said Nine. “This place got a lot bigger since I was here last.”

“I know,” said Eight, proudly. She closed her omnitool and bounded forward. “Come on, come on! Scootaloo, you’re going to love this! Unlike some ponies, I think you will have a good eye for this sort of thing!”

Scootaloo followed her, her optics scanning and taking account of the room around her. It was extremely full, but it was far from messy. In fact, it was organized and clean to an almost compulsive degree. Almost everything was labeled and placed in immaculately clean displays and racks, each one lit individually as though it were a subject within a high-class museum.

All of the “exhibits”, though, shared something in common. They were all weapons. Firearms of various types, mostly, ranging from ornate antiques to bizarre modern rarities. Far from all were firearms, though; there were also swords and blades of various types. As Scootaloo walked, she saw at least one chainsaw, its frame painted bright red and its chain still slightly discolored with a darkish substance.

There was also at least one starship. It was on the far side of the room, lit and waxed to keep it in excellent condition. It looked like a larger and more complete version of the derelict starship that Six had used as a cover for her weapons storage. Beside it sat a similarly sized geth prime that slowly turned its head, watching the group patiently as they passed.

Both the quantity and diversity was astounding, and as Eight had predicted Scootaloo found it quite interesting. She actually paused to look at an enormous minigun/rocket launcher combination large enough for a krogan to use that had been set beside a case containing several volus revolvers and a stained crowbar.

As she looked, though, her attention was drawn to a square glass case next to them. She looked into it, and was surprised to see that it did not contain an obvious weapon. Instead, a simple golden ring was suspended in the center, floating in an invisible mass effect field. Scootaloo looked at it closely and saw some fine but indecipherable writing on the side.

“Yeah, don’t look at that one too long,” said Eight, pulling Scootaloo away from the case.

“Why? What is it?”

Eight’s face scrunched. “A birthday present.”

She led Scootaloo to a different area where a ground-level case was resting. Its inside was painted white, and a number of old looking wooden rifles were mounted against it.

“Check this out,” said Eight.

“Rifles,” said Scootaloo.

“Rifles? Not just any rifles! These are genuine Mosin-Nagants! Hand-built by glorious proletariat! Did you know that there are only twelve left in existence?”

“There are eleven here,” said Scootaloo.

Eight grimaced and ground her teeth. “Izhevsk Armory,” she said, pretending to be calm, “1925, number 865. I’ve tried time and time again, but I can’t get its present owner’s goddamn cold fingers of the damn thing!” She giggled and then exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself. “But that’s not important right now. Let’s see…” She walked away suddenly.

“Eight,” said Scootaloo.

“I’m just trying to find something that will fit you well.” She eyed Scootaloo carefully. “Probably something with a pistol grip. Nothing fits a mare like a good, thick pistol grip. Trust me on this, Scoots, no stallion compares.”

“Are you implying- -”

“Oh yes,” said Nine, emerging from the racks with a pistol-like plasma cutter. “She has.”

Eight frowned and plucked the cutter from Nine’s magic. “Don’t touch ANYTHING,” she said. “You’re getting magic-prints on my things and getting them out of order and disorganized! Write down what you want and I’ll go through the list and see if I have duplicates you can BORROW.” She glared at Nine, and then smiled at Scootaloo. “How about this thing?” she said, pulling a device off a high shelf. It was labeled as “Ghoulsayer” and consisted of a number of crooked circuit boards and a parabolic dish that looked like the back of an oscillating fan. “This one shoots radiation! I shot myself with it once, you know, just so see what it did. Let me tell you, it certainly works. Probably very well. But big brother will help me test that later, if you know what I mean.”

Scootaloo had no idea. “Eight,” she said, this time more firmly.

“Or how about this one?” Eight pulled down an enormous rifle that seemed to cause Nine to physically drool. “From Stroggos. It shoots nine-inch long-nails!”

“I want that gun…”

“EIGHT!”

Scootaloo’s voice caused Eight to frown. “You don’t need to shout,” she said, sounding hurt. “You’ll agitate the guns. Seriously. Some of them are sensitive. Please don’t wake up the…”

“Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeloading!” called an extremely annoying voice from the most distant corner of the warehouse.

“Goddamn it!” swore Eight under her breath.

“Where did you get all this?” asked Scootaloo. “Because I don’t think Cerberus paid you enough to buy all these.”

“Extranet auctions,” said Eight.

“If by ‘extranet auctions’ you mean ‘countless high-profile heists’,” said Nine, who was attempting to hide the nail gun behind her back.

“She means you stole them. You stole all this, didn’t you?”

“Well, ‘stole’ is such a harsh word. I prefer ‘pilfered’.”

“Synonyms,” muttered Nine to Scootaloo.

“No it isn’t!” protested Eight. “You know I don’t like strong spices, Nine!”

Scootaloo looked around the room. “How long did all this take?”

“I’ve spent my whole life collecting,” said Eight, simultaneously proud and ashamed. “I mean…I really like guns. I love them. Physically. As in…well, you get the idea. Nothing like a long hard barrel. And, well, I can teleport. So…”

“So you’re a master criminal?”

“Thief, specifically. I’ve kind of made my career out of it. Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I don’t see why I would be especially angry. It’s your life. Live it how you want.”

Eight’s expression lit up. “And that’s why you’re the Scootaloo,” she said. “Now, what exactly do you want? I’ve got enough here to arm several militaries.”

“I made a list,” said Scootaloo, lifting a datapad in her cybernetic claw. She passed it to Eight, who took it in her magic.

“Let’s see here,” said Eight, taking a pair of reading glasses from her pocket. “Hmm. M-hmm. Oh. That will be epic. I have one of those, but this one might take some time…”

“If you don’t have it- -”

“If I don’t have it, I can get it. I think the turians have one, and they are incredibly easy to rob blind. As in I've done it blindfolded.” Eight frowned, then looked over the datapad. “None of this stuff is weapons, though. I mean, I have this stuff, but it’s all heist supplies.”

“As long as you have it.”

“Scoots, I don’t think you understand. I’m offering you access to my personal collection. Anything at all. And…and you don’t want any of it.”

She seemed hurt. Scootaloo took a step forward, putting her hoof on Eight’s shoulder.

“It’s your collection,” she said, “and I know how important it is to you, and how meaningful it is that you offered me use of it. Thank you, Eight. But I want to let you keep it intact. I just need these materials to upgrade my suit, if you can find them.”

Eight smiled. “I can see why Sixie likes you,” she said. Her eyes narrowed, though. “You had better not break her heart.”

“I don’t intend to. Ever. But if she decides I’m not worth it, I’ll find you. We can have a three-way with a Kalashnikov.”

Eight’s wings immediately extended with an audible “pompf” sound. “That- -that won’t be necessary. She really cares about you. Just- -just make sure she gets out of this alive. I don’t know what I would do if I lost a sister.”

“Hey, Eight, I want this one!” said Nine, emerging from behind the stacks holding a ridiculously oversized high-tech cannon with the number “9000” printed on the side. “It’s so big!”

“Let me rephrase that,” said Eight. One of her eyelids twitched. “If I lost Four, Six, Seven, or you.” She turned to her side sharply, reaching out with her magic to take the weapon away from Nine. Nine was fast, though, and took flight, her wings beating immensely fast to keep the weapon away from Eight.

“Give that back!” shrieked Eight. “You have no idea what that even is!”

“I know it’s big! And that you’re too small to hold it.” She smiled slyly. “In your hooves, I mean.”

“Put it down! Do you have any idea how much plasma ammunition even one shot on that thing takes?!”

“You’ll have to take it from my cold dead hooves!”

Eight erupted with light as she teleported upward. Nine dodged, and the two swooped and flew toward each other, eventually moving away from Scootaloo.

Scootaloo could not help but smile. She found their sisterly behavior endearing, even if it reminded Scootaloo that her own sister was long dead. Not that it mattered, of course. Even though Scootaloo had loved Rainbow Dash, Rainbow Dash had never fully been able to express herself well enough to make the relationship work properly.

Being unable to fly, Scootaloo followed the two by walking through the stacks of weapons, passing several coilguns and an extensive collection of Cerberus swords until she came to an intersection. As soon as she did, Scootaloo suddenly felt cold.

She turned her head slowly, her eyes scanning over the countless artifacts that Eight had managed to collect over her long alicorn life. What drew her attention was not even close to her. It was almost twenty feet away, set in a nondescript case behind glass. Scootaloo recognized it instantly, though. It would have been impossible for her not to.

It was in pieces, but the shape of the large, odd weapon was unmistakable. There, sitting in the case, was a weapon of Equestrian origion. A Chaos pistol. Scootaloo felt her blood run cold as she stared at it, and found that she felt as though it was staring back at her, accusing her. As if it knew.

There was no way to know if it was the same one. Not by looking at it. Nor did Scootaloo want to know. There was no way she would have been able to ask that question to Eight, if only from the fear of the answer. She forced herself to think that it was a second one, a collector’s item that Eight must have found somewhere or stolen from a collector. It was impossibly rare, but not nearly as rare as its ammunition.
Scootaloo felt weak in her knees, but seeing the gun- -and having it see her- -had the opposite effect on her mind. It reminded her of her mistakes, and what she had done wrong. Its presence strengthened her resolve. She would have revenge, even if that one horrible mistake was her own fault.
More importantly, though, she would not allow a mistake like that to happen again. Ever.

Despite her best efforts, Starlight had not been able to sleep. It was not just the dreams. When she was left alone in the dark, she would think of all the friends she had lost and then hate herself for finding herself missing One.

Because of this, she wandered through the Thebe facility. Most of the main building only made her feel worse. It was dark and quiet, and with its purpose served it had become empty. In time, it would become like the other ruins that seemed to dot the Vocqtus landscape: things that had once, long ago, had some critical importance that was now long forgot the surviving age.

Instead, Starlight had made her way to the hangers where Thebe had assembled its fleet of black ships. Many of them, it seemed, had been manufactured in place from the components of the lesser starships that they had destroyed in the course of obeying Thebe’s will. Their design appeared distinctly Equestrian, but only tangentially so. It was clear that Twilight had designed them, but not consciously. They were the product of the dreams of her long sleep as the disembodied Paradigm.

All of them were far more advanced than the sources of their parts. Their ultimate construction, though, had come down to what parts could be acquired. Starlight had learned this when she had boarded one unhindered and made her way to the engine room.

There was no purpose for her coming here, at least so she hoped. She had, though, and found herself standing in the center of a large circular tube, her body lit by a shimmering blue light. Before her stood a large glass tube of fluid, and within it floated the ship’s power source. This one, like many of the others, had been constructed around the central reactor of an Alliance ship.

For a long time, Starlight just stared at her, the woman floating in the fluid. She looked younger than the ones that had been present in Four’s ship, but she still looked the same. They all looked the same. The same hair, the same skin, the same body. They were clones, no different from Four, Six, Seven, Eight and Nine. Or One. Except that they had never been born. They had never had a chance to experience life. Somehow, to Starlight, that was even more horrible, that they had not even been intended as people but created with the sole purpose of being Cores. Considering this, she suddenly found herself understanding what Twilight had meant.

Starlight was not sure how long she stared, but she eventually became aware of a pony behind her. She did not need to look away from the Core to know it was Twilight.

“They are very beautiful, aren’t they?” said Twilight.

“They don’t deserve this,” replied Starlight. “They just don’t. Nobody does.”

Twilight approached Starlight and sat next to her. “No,” she said. “Nobody does.”

“Then why did you build them? Why do you have ships like this, Twilight?”

“I didn’t. Not really,” said Twilight. “Threads of my mind converged in the Paradigm. The threads responsible for design, or for resource acquisition, but not the threads of my memory. Or my morality. If all of me had been there…if I had known…” She shook her head. “But I needed them. I needed power for my ships.”

“How can you say that? After what you just told me- -”

“Because I can think of it objectively. Subjectively? I hate this. And I hate myself a little bit for not being strong enough to find another way. Objectively, though?” She stared up at the cloned Oriana. “Objectively, this is brilliant.”

“How ca- -”

“Cores were Starswirl the Bearded’s greatest creation. I’ve read what texts survive. The efficiency per gram of element zero is almost incomprehensibly greater than what you could get from a non-living engine. They barely generate heat.”

“Which is why we have quants.”

“Which I used when I can. But they are unbelievably rare, and almost impossible to manufacture. Starswirl could create Cores five thousand years ago, before Equestria had even realized germ theory. Even with the most perfect of crystals, only one in fifty will be able to be cut into a quant, and less than one in ten thousand into a powerful one.” She put her hoof on her chest, where her own crystal was located.

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

“Then why is she still in there?”

“Because I don’t know how to get them out. I could build these ships because it was something I knew how to do, or could figure out by trial and error where I needed to. But these Cores have been linked to the machine since they were fetuses. If I try to remove them…they die.”

Starlight stared at Twilight for a long moment, and then up at the Core. “Then the only people who know how to do it are the Alliance. And they won’t. To them, Cores are just machines.”

“We can find a way,” said Twilight. “Eventually. Once I regain control of Equestria. This is perverse. I will sever the connections that Cerberus forced us to make. The Alliance has never been a friend, and I will never allow them to be an ally.”

“But what about now?”

“Now? I’m afraid I need them. My fleet has one hundred sixty four. Thirty eight are made with Alliance reactors. That’s twenty three percent. It’s already going to be hard enough for Scootaloo to hold off the Equestrian forces for any length of time. I need- -”

“You can’t take them into battle,” asserted Starlight, standing.

“I have to. I know it’s wrong, but it’s the only way we can win.”

“No, it isn’t. You have other ships.”

“But not enough. And the main destroyers- -”

“It doesn’t matter,” cried Starlight, shaking her head. “You can’t!” She gestured at the girl floating in the tube. “We’re choosing to do this, and your Thebe soldiers don’t have enough mind left to choose. But they didn’t! You’d be forcing them to die for you!”

“And some have to die so that we can save so many more!”

Starlight was at a loss for words as she looked into Twilight’s eyes. They looked like those of a pony, but she did not understand. “Fine,” said Starlight at last. “If you’re willing to sacrifice your principals for this, I’m out.”

“You would let One win, then? Because of the Cores?”

“They may be human, but they are my people. As are you. Or once were. If you can’t understand what they mean to me, I don’t want either of you to rule.”

Starlight began to stomp out of the room, but Twilight stopped her.

“Starlight!” she called, standing, “wait.”

Starlight stopped. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” said Twilight. “I didn’t realize. I just…” She sighed. “I got too worked up. I’m just so concerned for my nation, I forgot what my position actually means. If I sacrifice my principles for victory, then you’re right. I don’t deserve to be a Princess.”

“Then you won’t take them?”

“I will leave behind all ships containing Cores. The battle will be much harder, but I think it will be worth it. And I know Scootaloo. She will be able to make do.”

“Do you promise?”

“I give you my word. Other than you and myself, no Cores will enter this battle.”

Starlight stared at her for a moment longer, and then smiled. “Thank you, Twilight,” she said, glad that she had once again found her old friend.

Some of the supplies had not been hard to get. In fact, Eight had a surprising number of very strange items that she did not consider part of her “collection”. She had been more than willing to part with them, considering them as superfluous consumables meant to be used toward her goal of acquiring more and better weapons. Scootaloo had received perhaps two thirds of the items on her list, with Eight teleporting out to find what she could of the remainder throughout the galaxy.

This meant that there was a lot of work to do, and Scootaloo set to it immediately. She took up residence in one of the now abandoned laboratories that had been used to process Reaper artifacts in the Thebe base. Although the Reaper artifacts were gone- -no doubt used to create Twilight’s new body- -the equipment was still viable.

Thoughts swirled through Scootaloo’s head, a swarm of ideas and rapidly forming connections. In a way, it was exhilarating. Before Eloth had scrambled her deepest contents, this had never happened. Scootaloo was a competent soldier, but she had never been an engineer. Now, though, she could learn and understand the workings of machines so much more quickly. She had never seen the insides of her mechnical armor before, but she was able to disassemble it and begin modifying it with ease.

The first thing she set to work doing was building an assembly around an inky violet crystal that Twilight had provided her. It was a unique design, unlike any that had been assembled in the Crystal Galaxy. Scootaloo was actually somewhat amazed by how much the capacity had been increased by the modifications, even in a lesser gem.

Forming the connections were challenging, but not impossible. It only took Scootaloo a few hours to assemble the necessary reading circuitry, in part by salvaging some of the components that had been left behind by the Thebeans. When she had done, the small crystal fragment was nestled in a circular casing about the size of Scootaloo’s hoof.

Carefully, Scootaloo linked the device to the power source of her own armor, jumpstarting it. Within seconds, though, as the crystal began to glow, it began generating exponentially more power than the tiny reactor in Scootaloo’s armor could ever hope to.

“Right,” said Scootaloo, opening her omnitool. “Moment of truth, Inte.”

She entered the necessary code, and the crystal shifted. It sparkled from within, and a hologram was projected above it. In less than a second, a tiny and abstract pink-violet model of a pony appeared over the crystal.

“Loading,” it said in an unfamiliar voice. “Systems check confirmed. Boot successful.” The abstract image looked up at Scootaloo. “How may I help you?”

“I am Scootaloo.”

“Scanning…Identified. You are Priestess Scootaloo. Welcome. Would you like me to restore your preferred settings?”

“Yes, please.”

“One moment. Loading.”

The hologram stood still for a moment, and then flickered. It’s abstract pink form was replaced almost immediately with one resembling a tiny green earth pony with yellow hair. She was barely three inches across, but the tiny Inte blinked, confused, and looked up at Scootaloo.

“Captain!” she cried, jumping with joy. “You came back for me!”

“I did,” said Scootaloo, smiling. “Are you…you?”

“Of course I’m me! To the extent which I can be. I’m really a set of memory files and a personality binary, so it’s not hard to be me. The real ‘Inte’ is an abstract concept in your own mind.” She looked around her and gasped. “And I’m so tiny! I must be adorable!”

“I’m using the crystal’s internal refractive matrix to generate you. I didn’t have a full projector.”

“That explains the poor resolution.” Inte “jumped” down from the crystal and began to walk around Scootaloo’s work bench, never straying far from the crystal that was producing her holographic body. “Wow, everything looks so big! I could live in that spanner it’s so huge!”

“That’s a wrench. And you’re not alive. You can’t live anywhere.”

“Killjoy.” Inte hoped into the end of the wrench, sitting in it like an armchair. “Captain,” she said as she nestled herself between the jaws of the tool. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I really just wanted to help you, but I had to obey my programming.”

“And are you going to obey it now?”

“Yes,” said Inte, “but only the program you have given me. The buried parts are gone now. This is a virgin crystal. I only act on your orders now.”

“So you could say that I took your virginity twice, then?”

Inte’s eyes lit up. “You did, Captain! You did! Quick, get another crystal so you can do it again!”

“I only have one,” said Scootaloo, picking up her tools and working on the device holding it. “And I only need one.”

“What are you doing?” asked Inte, standing and observing what Scootaloo was doing.

“I’m going to integrate you into my suit. Instead of being the VI for my ship, you’ll be the VI for my body.”

Inte’s eyes widened almost hyperbolically. “R…really? You’d do that?”

“I am doing that. As in right now.”

“Oh Captain!” The tiny hologram approached Scootaloo’s organic hoof and hugged it. “I’m so happy! Also, incoming teleportation!”

There was a pop next to Scootaloo and a blast of pink-violet light. Scootaloo was not entirely sure how she knew, but the pony that had appeared was neither Eight nor Six.

“Scootaloo,” said Twilight. “I see you’re enjoying the crystal?”

“I can’t help but wonder if the crystal is enjoying me more.”

Twilight crossed the room and looked at the box of supplies that Scootaloo had brought from Eight. “That’s…odd,” she said. “Scootaloo, these don’t look like things that would assist in a naval battle.”

“That’s because it isn’t going to be a naval battle,” said Scootaloo.

“But we already discussed- -”

“And I’m modifying the plan. When we get there, they are going to throw everything they have at us. The entire armada will converge on Equestria Prime. We will be able to keep up a fight for a while, but we are eventually going to need a ground war.”

“A ground war? You mean invading the planet.”

“I mean invading Canterlot. That will really get their attention. And we have the advantage there. Ponies have always had a superior navy, but when it comes fighting on the ground they’re weak. Our bodies just aren’t evolved for it.”

“I see,” said Twilight. “And I trust your discursion on this matter. You will have all of my soldiers at your disposal. Use them well. Don’t worry about them dying. I won’t need them once this is over. Also, I do have another present for you.”

“What kind of present?”

Twilight stood beside Scootaloo and projected a construct onto the table with her magic. It resembled an elongated octahedron, and seeing it made Scootaloo’s jaw clench.

“What is that?” she demanded.

“A special type of ship,” said Twilight. “Something my organization found buried deep in the sand. They’re not very big, about the size of a small fighter, but from what I can tell they’re ships.”

“Built by who?”

“By a native race of this world, billions of years before our universe had even yet formed.”

“And they still function?”

“You’d be surprised how much in Vocqtus still functions. Nothing ever really dies here. The human will tell you. Ask her about that thing she wears around her neck.”

“What do you want me to do with them?”

“Command them. My soldiers can’t control them, but I think you can. Who knows, it might turn the tide in our favor.”

Scootaloo stared at the hologram for a moment, and then dissipated it with her robotic claw. “I will,” she said, “but I’m going to need more than some elder fighter ships.”

“I have one hundred sixty four other ships. All of them will be at your disposal.”

“Yes. Just keep those with Alliance power sources out of Starlight’s sensor range.”

Scootaloo looked to Twilight, and was surprised to see that she was smiling. “I can do that,” she said. “If that’s what it takes to win this.”

“It is, Scootaloo. It is.”

And so, the preparations were made. It did not take long. All of the remnants of the Thebe organization immediately went into action, preparing every ship they had for flight. It was less than a day before the reprogrammed Governors began to assemble and prepare for departure alongside the rest of the Thebe soldiers. Not one of them expected to come back, and not one of them cared.

Starlight had prepared herself as well. Her ship was brought in and prepared for its mission, and she had prepared her armor. The time for the final mission had finally come, and she had acquired everything she needed.

“Are you sure?” asked Zedok, who was following behind Starlight as she walked quickly through the now crowded hanger facility.

“I am,” said Starlight, adjusting the settings in her new omnitool. Twilight had not been able to restore her magic- -the modifications that One had made were too well integrated, and any attempt to remove them even by Twilight would no doubt be lethal- -but she had been able to give Starlight an omnitool of incredible quality. Starlight’s tech powers were not what they had been when she had been whole, but they would be more than enough to defend herself in any fight.

“Because I’m ready to go,” said Zedok. “Either direction. I can go with Scootaloo, or to keep you safe. And Sbayadvlag will come with us too, if I ask her.”

“No,” said Starlight. “You need to be here. Once we reach Celestia, Scootaloo is going to pull back to here. And there will be casualties. I need you and your daughter to be ready.”

“Damn. I really wanted to go.”

“Well, unfortunately you’re an extremely good doctor. You should have thought of that before attending medicals school.”

“I know,” sighed Zedok. “Why do I have to be so awesome? I was just really looking forward to destroying some pony ass.” She looked up. “Speaking of destroying ass…”

Starlight looked away from her omintool and saw that Bob was approaching them from a distance. When she realized that they were looking at her, she stood up and walked on two legs instead of four.

“Have you changed your mind?” asked Starlight when Bob was in earshot.

“Have you?”

“Why would she?” said Zedok. “You yourself already said what a threat One was. Unless you’re going back on that too.”

“I never go back,” said Bob. “Down, sometimes, but never back.”

“So then you won’t help us?”

Bob shook her head. “No. This isn’t my fight. Besides, I’m the last person you want on Equestria Prime during a battle. I tend to pillage.”

“Your daughters are going to be fighting without you,” said Zedok. “You know that, right?”

“My daughters have fought hundreds of wars you don’t even know about. That’s what Cerberus does. Trust me. They can take care of themselves.”

“I don’t doubt it,” said Starlight, “but if you’re not here to help, then why are you here?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t here to help. I need to talk to you, depression-horse. Alone.”

“Anything you say to her you can say to me,” said Zedok, crossing her arms.

“It’s fine,” said Starlight.

“Yeah, there’s no need to get your panties in a twist,” said Bob. “Oh, wait. No. Nevermind, you’re an asari. Sorry.”

“You know,” said Starlight, “your presence here is getting really old.”

“I never get old. It’s kind of my shtick.”

Starlight sighed, but closed her omnitool and joined Bob reluctantly. Bob led her away from Zedok and down a darkened side-hall that seemed surprisingly empty in comparison to the crowded one that Starlight and Zedok had been walking on before.

“What do you want, Bob?”

“I highly doubt you’d be able to comprehend that. But if you’re asking why I called you over, well…”

“If you touch my flank, I will incinerate you.” Starlight flicked open her omnitool. “And I would really, really enjoy it.”

Bob frowned. “One, I don’t go for fillies. Two, I don’t go for you. It would be like doing it with Jack, and trust me when I say that’s unpleasant.”

“Then why are you here?”

“The code. The one I told you to paralyze my daughter?”

“What about it?”

“There’s a second part. From the same poem: ‘I kept the first for another day. Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back’.”

“That’s a lot of words for a single code.”

“That’s because it’s not a single code. The first one that I told you before? That one will paralyze her. The second one is the countercode. It negates the first.”

“Why in Cadence’s name would I want to do that?”

Bob shrugged and started walking into the empty darkness of the hallway, back to wherever she had come. “I just thought you should know. Be careful with it, though. Those are emergency codes. Once Un knows what they are, they won’t work a second time.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

“Won’t it? Because I’ve seen the end of the road you’re trying to go down. And I couldn’t even finish it.”

“Trust me. I will do what you could not.”

Starlight turned around and started returning to Zedok, but she paused. An idea had suddenly occurred to her. It was not a pleasant one, nor one she especially wanted to think about, but for some reason it hit with such force that she could not stop herself from asking.

“Bob,” she said.”

“Yeah?” said the human, turning her head and looking back at Starlight.

“When you said she was trained by Cerberus. What did you mean by that?”

“I mean exactly what I said. She was trained by Cerberus.”

“But what did they do?”

Bob’s large eyes became somewhat distance. “It was a much more refined version of the Pragia protocol. I’m sure Jack has mentioned at least parts of that to you at least once.”

With that, she disappeared into the darkness. The last thing Starlight saw of her was the flash of a grin, and a dim but sickening blue glow as she retreated back to her native element.

Starlight stared at where the human had been, and then finally forced herself to start walking again. “Damn it,” she said. “Goddamn it all…”

Scootaloo paused, looking around her. All the ships in the hanger had been prepared and the launch crews were finalizing their last checks. Plumes of smoke-like fog were pouring out of several of the nearest ships as they prepped their coolant systems for launch.

“Are we ready to go?” she asked.

“All systems are functional and excellent!” said Inte excitedly, her voice pushed directly into Scootaloo’s skull through the extended neural connections of her omnitool. “We are ready to go!”

“Talking to yourself, Scootaloo?”

Scootaloo pivoted to see Six and Seven approaching her. Both of them were dressed head to hoof in armor that looked curiously similar to their former Cerberus gear. Instead of an orange hexagon, though, they bore the mark of a single large star surrounded by six smaller ones. Twilight’s insignia.

“Wow,” said Scootaloo, looking up at Six’s armor plated and now mildly hulking frame. Every piece of her was covered save for her partially armored wings and her exposed horn, and for some reason Scootaloo could not help but feel her heart flutter at the sight of her. “You look good.”

“I feel good,” said Six. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a good, proper fight. I’m not a violent pony, of course. But I was literally built for this.” She turned to her sister, who was dressed in substantially heavier armor despite her thinner frame. “She agrees.”

“I know,” said Scootaloo. “She’s even more excited than you are.”

“She isn’t the only one who’s excited.” On the other side of them, Eight and Nine appeared alongside the unicorn breeder Jurneu. Both Eight and Nine were wearing their own versions of the same uniform that Six and Seven were, although Jurneu had opted for a very tight pony version of the black armor that asari commandos normally wore.

Eight leaned against the only male in the group, and he smiled awkwardly. “Isn’t that right, big brother?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m excited,” he said, “but I am prepared.”

“Say it.”

“What?”

“Say. IT.”

Jurneu sighed, then muttered. “My…little...princess…”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem saying it in her bedroom,” noted Nine. “Or on the hood of the SR2.”

“It’s a lot easier when I have feathers on my chest and a horn in my teeth.”

Everyone save for Eight shuddered at how candid Jurneu was being, and that seemed to be his goal. Although Eight stood uncomfortably close to him, the others left him alone.

They stood in awkward silence for what felt like hours before Twilight and Starlight finally arrived. Starlight was dressed in her customary suit of armor, an incarnation of the one that she had worn almost since before Scootaloo had ever met her. Twilight was unarmored, though, instead electing to wear thick clothing with a high collar. Scootaloo supposed she did not actually need to be protected externally; after all, she was fully machine beneath the thin veneer that made her look similar to how she once had.

“Are you ready, Scootaloo?” asked Twilight.

“I am.”

“You had better be. Because this is going to be hard. And not all of us are going to make it out alive.”

“Yes, we are,” said Scootaloo. “I’m going to make sure of it.”

“Do what you can. As soon as we leave Vocqtus, Starlight and I will go into radio silence. Everything on your end is up to you from that point on.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“You seem intent on your revenge,” said Starlight.

“Our sister froze her and left her for dead,” said Six. “What do you expect from her?”

“It’s not me I care about. It’s all the other ponies she’s hurt.” Scootaloo turned around and started walking toward the ship that had been prepared for her. “She thinks the world just forgot them. But I didn’t. Dusty Plume is going to have her revenge. I’m going to be sure of that.”

Scootaloo and her division of the group walked off, and Twilight turned to Starlight, confused. “Who is Dusty Plume?” she asked.

“No idea,” said Starlight, equally confused. “I’ve never heard that name before in my life.”