Mass Core 3: Thebe Paridigm

Mass-jumping had a particular sensation. Starlight had experienced it enough times that she had come to expect the familiar vibration and sensation of pressure in her bones, or the way her body seemed to lurch just slightly in every direction at once. Around her, the ship creaked ever so slightly as she remerged into space.

She leaned back in her chair, watching through the front glass at the expanse of space beyond. There was no real sensation; she had thought that returning to the stars would make her happy, but it was not the same. Seeing it through the glass, distant and separated- -it was no different from seeing it in video. It just made her remember how much she missed her long-range sensory implants.

Looking down, she tapped at the orange-colored control system projected around her left hoof. The ship responded as she confirmed her coordinates and reset her course. The omnitool shifted, and Starlight interpreted the feedback to begin a new set of calculations concerning speed and engine thrust.

Twilight was perceptive. There was no pony that knew Starlight better than her best friend, and as such, Twilight had taken care to acquire an Alliance-built ship for her. Equestrian ships were generally of a much higher caliber, but through the years, Starlight had developed a strong aversion to quants. Logically, she understood what they were. That they were not alive. In her mind, though, they reminded her too much of Cores. It had become especially bad in the recent decades as quants had become smarter and better at pretending to be real ponies.

An Alliance ship met her requirements far better. In fact, it was almost the polar opposite of the quant-based design used by all Equestrian-made ships. The interface was profoundly simple: the ship was almost mechanical, lacking any form of onboard computational capacity. In the Alliance, the users were expected to perform any and all calculations mentally and operate the ship manually. This was considered virtually impossible for organic lifeforms, but it was not beyond Starlight’s ability. She could perform the majority of the calculations that she needed in her head, using her omnitool only to check her math and to feed instructions directly into the ship’s control architecture.

Outside, a planet was looming in the distance, backlit by its brilliant yellow-orange star. Through the window, Starlight could see the numerous orbital platforms that surrounded it: telescopes, listening posts, defensive turrets, and several railguns that would be more than adequate to take down small moons. Surrounding these structures was a small armada of spacecraft. Starlight did not even need her scanners to tell that they were unmanned; they were tiny and moved with patterns so predictable that they borderlined on cliché.

The planet’s defenses were of no consequence. Starlight clicked near the center of her omnitool and engaged her vessel’s tactical cloak. As threatening as this fortress-like planet appeared, it was downright primitive compared to the Alliance, the Council, or even Equestria.

Several Council probes sat just outside the planet’s orbital perimeter, and Starlight ignored their warnings. She entered the necessary sequences into her ship, and felt it hitch as it struck Parnack’s atmosphere. Deftly, she guided the craft into a particularly unpopulous region of the world and landed amongst the forest.

When the ship finally came to a rest, Starlight disconnected the control cables from her omnitool. With a flick of her hoof, it vanished, and she stood. She momentarily paused to look through the window at the forest beyond, and at her reflection. It was the same reflection she had always seen. It never changed.

She then turned and proceeded to a supply section behind the main bridge. The controls had been custom-reconfigured to a being of her height, and she tapped her hoof against a control pad to open a closet. Inside were several items. Starlight picked up the small container that contained her contact lenses, and then looked up at the uniform that was hanging neatly above her. It had changed substantially over the years: parts had worn out and been replaced with Equestrian equivalents, or elements upgraded. In some places, ornamentation had been added to represent Starlight’s station within the Cult of Harmony. At its core, though, it was the same. The same armor that had been given to her by a mute rachni so long ago.

It was spring on Parnack. Where Starlight had landed, the trees were almost as thick as her starship, and the forest floor was blooming with flowers in every conceivable shade of green. The air was not cold, but Starlight did feel a humid chill and pulled her cloak up to her neck. Then she deployed a combat drone. It materialized from her omnitool as a sphere of light, and then floated to her side. Once it was completed, she affixed a single-eye HUD- -or, as it was colloquially known, a “Garrus eyepiece”- - to the right side of her face.

The drone began scanning, and Starlight paused, reading the results as they came to her.

“Atnospheric eezio concentrations are high,” she muttered to herself, mildly surprised. That meant that the yahg had at least begun to develop FTL technology.

Their planet, though, hardly indicated that level of development. It was largely deserted, consisting of enormous forests and endless planes with only a few highly-developed cities or settlements dispersed throughout. In fact, it rather reminded Starlight of what Equestria Prime had looked like when she had first arrived as a Priestess.

Even the scanning drone was barely detecting anything, at least at first. Starlight still continued, though, scanning as she went. It took nearly an hour of slowly walking through the forest before she began detecting anything more substantial than plant matter and occasional spikes of energy that she attributed to eezio contamination in the atmosphere.

The scan indicated a large number of organic lifeforms approaching at high speed. This gave Starlight pause. Yahg were not known to be friendly to outsiders, and apart from her ominitool, Starlight had not brought any means to defend herself.

The approaching creatures, though, turned out not to be yahg. Starlight did not know what they were, exactly, but assumed they were part of the planet’s native fauna. Her drone detected them first, approaching in a large herd from all sides: hairy brown creatures with abnormally long, thin legs, their heads covered with soft antenna and their sides with numerous eyes.

They were not, apparently, predators. In fact, as they approached Starlight, they slowed, observing her carefully. Whatever they were, they seemed to be curious, approaching Starlight gingerly on their narrow and almost ridiculous pointed legs. Whenever she or her combat drone would move, they would begin to become spooked and jump back.

“None of you would be able to communicate, I suppose,” said Starlight. The creatures, as expected, did not respond, except with a confused expression of surprise.

Then, suddenly, their antennae stiffened. They froze, and then sprinted with amazing speed. Starlight did not understand why, and found herself wondering what she had done to offend them- -when her eyepiece suddenly lit up with a top-priority warning.

Starlight barely managed to dodge as a singularity round struck the soil behind her, imploding through several rocks and detonating in a percussive explosion that threw Starlight back several feet. The bullet would have been fatal on impact, but with it missing her, Starlight was able to roll and return to her feet, directing her drone to scan the surrounding area.

The drone, however, was useless. Although it could not pick up any signal, Starlight easily traced the bullet back to its origin visually. Almost a hundred yards away, she saw a glint of blue skin from a hooded figure standing on a broken branch protruding from the trunk of a high tree.

The figure raised her singularity rifle again, and Starlight responded by generating a partial suit of tech-armor. “ZEDOK!” she called.

Upon hearing this, the figure lowered her rifle- -but did not come down from the tree. Instead, she turned and leapt. There was a surge of blue energy from her legs, and she leapt a substantial distance to another limb, and then another.

“Zedok, come back!” yelled Starlight as she started to run after the asari.

Starlight was a reasonably physically fit pony, but the ground was uneven and rocky. In addition, while the asari above could easily leap tens of meters or more, Starlight was barely sixty centimeters at the shoulder. She simply was not very fast.

Still, despite the limitations of her small pony body, Starlight was managing to keep up- -and, as she quickly came to realize, not by sheer perseverance. The asari could have outrun her easily, but instead, she always kept herself just in range. Sometimes she would stop and turn back, watching silently from within her loose camouflage clothing. She would watch, waiting for Starlight to catch up, leading her.

“Zedok! Stop! It’s me, Starlight! I just want to talk to you!”

By this time, Starlight was now completely out of breath. The asari seemed to take notice of this, and dropped several hundred feet to the ground. Starlight rushed forward with her last burst of energy, expecting the woman to run again. As she did, she noticed how strangely silent the forest had become.

When she reached the clearing where the asari was standing, she was on the verge of collapsing. The asari was standing in the center, her unusual clothing wrapped around her in a way that made her look more like a shrub than a person.

“Zedok,” wheezed Starlight.

The underbrush suddenly seemed to shift. Silently, several more figures emerged from beneath the trees, all of them dressed in similar clothing to the asari. They, however, were MUCH larger. Too late, Starlight realized that she had been led into an ambush: she now found herself surrounded by a hunting party of six yahg, all with their singularity rifles pointed directly at her head.

The asari raised her own rifle and pulled back her hood. Starlight realized immediately that this girl was not Zedok at all. Her skin was aqua, and mottled around the edges of her narrow face. Her primary markings were “eyebrows” consisting of two large, black dots each as well as a pair of smaller dots beneath her eyes.

“You’re not Zedok,” said Starlight.

“No,” said the girl, her voice thick with what Starlight could only surmise was an accent that could only be gained from a lifetime of speaking yahg. “I am not.”

“No,” said a different and far less accented voice. “That would be me.”

Starlight turned to see another group of yahg. One among them was substantially larger than the others, her horns long and curved with age. She was not the one who had spoken, though; the leader of the group was an asari.

This time, Starlight knew that she had found the right person. Time had changed her slightly: Zedok’s formerly flat chest had grown out, if only marginally, and the extensive scarring that had once covered her face had now been reduced to a distant shadow. Her eyes, though, were the same as they had been in the past. The explosion that had taken her face had also taken her eyes, and though her skin would recover, her sight remained artificial. A pair of slightly luminescent mechanical orbs settled on Starlight.

Starlight watched Zedok’s mechanical eyes widen and her expression soften. “No fucking way,” she said. “Star?”

“Well, yes,” said Starlight, sheepishly. “Who else would I be?”

The next thing she knew, she was being wrapped in an incredibly tight hug.

“ACK! Zedok- -tiny pony lungs- -fragile ribs!- -Can’t- -BREATHE!”

“STAR! I can’t believe you’re still alive- -I didn’t think I would EVER see you again! I can’t believe- -”

“AIR!”

“Oh,” said Zedok, releasing Starlight. “Sorry. I forgot how little you are. And soft and…Star, what the hell are you wearing?”

“Clothing,” gasped Starlight, running an internal scan to confirm that her ribs were, in fact, still connected to her sternum.

“Mother,” said the other Asari. “This confuses me. Why do you embrace the salarian?”

“Salarian?” Zedok seemed confused. She pointed at Starlight. “She’s not a salarian. Come on, I KNOW you know what a salarian looks like.”

“If not an Abductor, then what?”

“I’m a pony,” said Starlight.

“That hardly answers the question. Are you food, or an enemy?”

“Neither,” said Zedok, standing up. She motioned to the yahg. “Lower your weapons.”

The yahg immediately obeyed. The asari girl, however, did not.

“Sbayadvlag,” said Zedok. “Starlight is one of my oldest and closest friends. I’d rather you don’t shoot her.”

“And I’d rather not be shot,” said Starlight. “That is, if you don’t mind terribly much.”

Sbayadvlag then lowered her weapon. As she did, Starlight was able to finally see that the girl was actually substantially younger than Zedok. She was thinner, smaller, and overall more youthful.

“Damn, Zed,” said Starlight, looking up at her friend. “You got old.”

“I’m krogan,” said Zedok. “We don’t get older. We just get sexier and angrier.”

Zedok raised her hand into the air and produced a somewhat complex gesture. “Alright,” she said. “Whatever game we had? Starlight just scared it off. Back off and cut to the north valley, if you want to. I’m going back to the farm. Regroup when you need to. Sbaya, you’re on me.”

As Zedok turned, the largest of the yahg- -a female- -addressed her in yahg. Zedok responded, and they had a short exchange before Zedok and Starlight passed by.

“What did she say?” asked Starlight.

“She asked why we do not simply eat you.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told her that the meat on your skinny horse ass isn’t worth the munitions.”

“Well, if there’s anyone in the galaxy who knows about having a skinny ass, I suppose that would be you.”

“You’re damn rig- -HEY!”

“Mother,” said the other asari. “Shall I proceed ahead?”

“Sure. We’ll meet you there. Starlight has stubby legs, so she’ll take a bit.”

“My legs are not stubby,” protested Starlight. “They are in fact of slightly-above average length for a mare.”

Sbaya nodded to her mother. Then she turned to Starlight. “Before that, though, if I may, I feel compelled to apologize. I had mistaken your intent and did not realize that you were a friend and guest. I hope you can forgive both my indiscretion and my poor aim.”

She then took a step back and jumped, elegantly rising to a high dead branch. With several more leaps, she was high in the canopy of the trees. Starlight turned to Zedok. “You have a daughter.”

“Yes. I figured that was self-evident.”

“With Darien?”

Zedok snorted. “What?” she chuckled. “Let me guess- -”

“The way she talks? Yeah. I noticed. Also, you snorted.”

“No I didn’t.” Zedok looked down at Starlight. “And you? After all this time, I bet you have literally dozens of…what are baby ponies called? Kits? Pups?”

“Foals,” corrected Starlight. “And no. I don’t.”

“Ah,” said Zedok, seeming to understand. “So, you WERE into girls.”

Starlight blushed profusely. “No, it’s not- -no! I just- -I never had time. I’ve been busy.”

“Star, I’m not criticizing your choice. I mean, look at you. You haven’t aged a day. You’ve got time. Or not, if you’re not into kids.” She shrugged. “Just saying, though, they HURT. I mean, I didn’t even know my body could do that. Remember that time you impaled me? Like, through-and-through?”

“Of course. Because you shot me with a corrosive round. We both almost died.”

“Yeah. Multiply that by about eighty. I mean, it’s an asari coming out of another asari. And you’ve got wings and horns and stuff, so…” Zedok shivered. “…and hooves.”

“That sounds pretty bad.”

“It was. I punched out one of the doctors. And Darien fainted. Apparently, they normally lay eggs, so this was new to him.” She looked up at the trees toward a quickly-moving shadow that Starlight could only barely see. “But I don’t regret it. Never did, not for a moment. Not ever.”

The “farm” that Zedok described was a substantial walk, and night was beginning to fall as they reached it. Starlight very distantly remembered that Darien, Zedok’s husband, had been a farmer of what she imagined was a type of fish. The farm, however, was more expansive than Starlight had come to expect of agricultural endeavors. The area that Starlight was led to appeared to be a kind of outpost that had been constructed along a set of large and deep artificial, stone-lined ponds.

“Don’t get near the water,” said Zedok. “They tend to get a little bitey this close to the harvest. And their normal prey looks actually a LOT like you.”

“Noted,” said Starlight, shying back from the murky black water and the oddly hairy shapes moving just beneath its surface. “But I thought you were training to be a doctor?”

“Training? When? I AM a doctor. I have been for a very, very long time.”

“Then what are you doing out here?”

“Hunting. With my extended family. There are these animals that I really, really like to eat.”

“Like big deer? Tentacles for faces and lots of eyes? Really long legs?”

Zedok grimaced. “Eew, no! That’s a shlo’rk, they taste like butts. Fried butts. That, and the singularity rounds tend to turn them into red mist.”

Starlight considered that for a moment. “Then what were you actually hunting for, then?”

Zedok did not answer the question. Instead, she opened a large door to the outpost building. Like most yahg structures, it was built to be extremely sturdy and to blend into the landscape that pressed up against it from all sides. The trees planted near it to reinforce the walls almost seemed to be eating the stone and wood of the building itself.

“Mother,” said Sbayadvlag, causing Starlight to jump from shock. She had seemed to materialize feet from Starlight without a sound. “Should I fetch sticks for the fire?”

“No,” said Zedok. “It’s getting dark. It’s not good to be out now.”

“The darkness does not concern me,” said Sbaya.

“No, of course not. You’re half yahg and a quarter krogan. But you being out in it does concern me.”

Zedok watched her daughter expectantly, but Sbaya just smiled. “Oh. Yes. Of course, mother.” She followed her mother and Starlight into the structure, hanging her coat on a hook in the wall and propped her rifle next to the door. Without her external coat, Sbaya actually did look much smaller than Zedok. Starlight was not sure if it was simply because she was younger or if it was just because she had a more narrow frame. She was dressed in a sleeveless garmet that had been dyed in various shades of olive. It was drab and thick, but she appeared to be able to move freely.

As she entered, Zedok took off her own furry coat and threw it over one of the oversized chairs in the building. She was wearing a similar garment- -it was the asari-sized equivalent of what most yahg tended to wear- -but it was colored in various shades of red and orange.

“So,” said Starlight. “If you’re here, who’s watching your practice? Fenok, I assume? He never struck me as the kind to hunt.”

Zedok stopped walking and looked over her shoulder. Her expression had hardened, and Starlight knew that she was about to hear bad news.

“No,” she said. “The practice is mine now. Dad isn’t here now.”

“Not here?” That made little sense to Starlight; Fenok had always been an enormously caring, even overprotective father to Zedok. She had imagined he would never leave her side, nor the side of his young granddaughter. “Then where is he?”

Zedok did not answer for a moment. “He’s on Sur’Kesh, Star.”

Starlight was confused. “The salarian homeworld? That seems like a strange place for a krogan. But I can stop there next if you think- -”

“NO!”

Starlight took a step back. “Zedok- -”

“You can’t go to Sur’Kesh, Star,” said Zedok firmly. “Trust me. You can’t.”

“If diplomatic clearance is a problem- -”

“You…you seriously don’t know, do you?”

“Know what? Zedok, you’re not making any sense.”

“The Outbreak. Sur’Kesh is in level five quarantine.”

“Outbreak? What kind of outbreak?”

“Disease. A plague. A bad one. Worse than the genophage ever was. Dad was at a conference there when the first wave hit. The fatality rate…Star, the salarians are almost extinct.”

“Sweet Celestia- -is Fenok- -”

“Dad is fine,” said Zedok. “Mostly fine. Krogan are extremely resistant to it, but…”

“But what?”

“He’s still infected. He can’t get off the planet.”

“That’s terrible!”

“Not for the salarians,” said Sbaya, approaching from behind. “Grandfather is a brilliant doctor, and a student of the krogan Okeer. With his work, the disease will no doubt be cured within the next millennium.”

“Millennium- -wait,” Starlight turned to Sbaya. “I thought you hated salarians?”

Sbaya blinked. “Ah,” she said, turning to her mother. “It is…a mistranslation.”

“‘Salarian’ is the yahg word for alien,” said Zedok. “And the connotation is very, very negative. They have a history. A pretty bad one.” She pulled up a chair near the building’s central fireplace. It was small and asari sized. Zedok sat down, crossing her legs as she did. Sbaya moved behind her, standing.

“Well, that sucks,” said Starlight.

“Starlight,” said Zedok, slowly. “Don’t get me wrong. I am so, so happy to see you. But why are you here? Why now?”

“Ah,” said Starlight. Through the question was somewhat hurtful- -even if it had not been intended that way- -Starlight had been expecting it. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited in so long. The Core liberation and reintegration project took a substantial amount of time and effort, and I guess I just got so engrossed in my duties with Princess Twilight that I lost track of time.”

“Duties?” Zedok raised an eyebrow.

“Not like that,” said Starlight. “But…well, I’m the High Priestess of the Cult of Harmony. It’s not an easy job. Not that being a doctor isn’t, but…” Starlight sighed. “I’m sorry, Zed. I should have written or something. I feel terrible just showing up and asking for your help.”

“What kind of help?” asked Sbaya.

Starlight extended her hoof. Her omnitool emerged, causing Sbaya to jump slightly. It projected the file and a small image of the heretic Scootaloo. “This fugitive escaped from custody and is thought to have fled to the Milk Path galaxy.”

“A criminal? They dispatched the big important ‘High Priestess’ to catch a criminal?”

“This isn’t just any criminal,” said Starlight, snapping the hologram closed. “This pony was a war hero. She prevented war during the Agrostation Six incident and defeated the mad-Core Sunset Shimmer.” Starlight paused. “She also brutally murdered a fellow Priestess.”

“But those incidents,” said Zedok, pausing. “That would mean she’s as old as you, at least.”

“Thirteen year younger, yes.”

Zedok seemed to accept this. “Right. And you want my help?”

“I would greatly appreciate it, as would Princess Twilight. But you do not need to if you don’t have time. I mean, you have a daughter, a life. But you’re the only one I can find easily. If you have any idea where Jack might be, I really could use that information.”

Zedok’s expression changed, as it had when Starlight mentioned Fenok.

“What?” said Star, realizing that something was wrong.

“Star, do you know how long you’ve been gone?”

“What? Probably several decades, I would guess. I mean, I feel really, really bad about it, but I was just so busy it all kind of blurred together. Jack must be pissed! I’ll have to bring her some good vodka. She still drinks, right?”

Zedok shook her head. “Star, it hasn’t been several decades. It’s been several CENTURIES.”

Starlight laughed. “No way.” Her smile faded as she realized that Zedok was serious. “What…how- -how long?” she said, stepping forward. “Zedok, how long have I been gone?”

“The battle, the one against the Crimson Horizon? That was two hundred and seventy eight years ago.”

“And- -and Jack? She must be so old- -”

Zedok shook her head. “Star, I’m sorry. Humans, they just don’t live very long. They aren’t like us. Jack was already old back then. She’s…she’s gone, Star. She’s been gone for hundreds of years.”

Starlight started to protest, to explain how that just could not be right, that there was no way she had been gone that long- -but on some level she already knew. She collapsed to the floor.

“But…but it doesn’t make sense!” she said. “I- -I was only gone for a few decades! Fifty years at the most! She- -she’s strong! She should have been able to make it that far!”

Zedok stood from her chair and knelt by Starlight, wrapping her in a hug. “Starlight,” she said. “It’s not your fault.”

“But- -but- -two hundred and seventy eight years! Almost THREE CENTURIES! How- -HOW?”

“This happens, Star. It’s not uncommon for people like us. For asari, for krogan. You get busy. Time passes. A year. Ten years. A century. Two. For us, that’s barely anything. A tiny fraction of our lives. An insignificant passage of time. But for them…that’s lifetimes.”

“But- -it SHOULDN’T BE THAT WAY! I’m- -I’m not supposed to be like this! I’m not supposed to be this old!” Starlight tried to say more, as if protesting her situation could somehow make her assertions true. Her words, though, became unintelligible through her tears. All she could do was hug Zedok, and be hugged.

It took a long time for her to calm down, or to at least regain her composure. Her mind felt numb; she had still not accepted that Jack could possibly be dead, even though she knew it had to be true. The memory of the time still felt blurred, but thinking about it, she started to notice the inconsistencies. Most of her time was spent with Twilight, who did not age or die, or with Flurry Heart and Sunburst, who likewise aged impossibly slowly. At the same time, she distantly recalled the long string of funerals of friends and acquaintances before she had eventually given up on trying to befriend mortals.

“And the…and the others?”

Zedok leaned back and shook her head. “As far as I know? They’re all dead. Everyone is dead.”

“Even…even Darien.”

Zedok’s expression fell. “Yeah. Even Darien.”

“What…what happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“He got old, Star. That’s what happens. Male yahg can make at most one-fifty. He made it one-twelve before the dementia started to set in. I was there with him to the end.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what? You couldn’t have done anything. That’s just the way life goes. I’m actually pretty lucky. I was married for almost a century. We had a daughter, a farm, a family. A lot of folks don’t get that kind of thing.”

“I didn’t get that kind of thing,” said Starlight, softly.

“But that is the past,” said Sbaya. “Regret is simply a desire to change what has already been. But since the past cannot be changed, it is a futile emotion.”

“I can take you to her grave, if you want. I know where it is.”

“No,” said Starlight. “I don’t…” She took a breath. “I have a heretic to execute. Right now, I need to focus on the mission.”

“Right,” said Zedok. She stood up and dusted herself off. “Then you’ll need help. We’ll come with you.”

“Wait,” said Sbaya, her eyes widening. “We?”

“Yes, ‘we’,” said Zedok. “As in you, and me.”

“But- -but the harvest!” protested Sbaya. “I’m needed here!”

“Your cousins can more than handle the harvest themselves.”

“I can’t! I’ve never been of Parnack before, I wouldn’t- -”

“Which is exactly why you need to come. Your, what, sixty?”

“Fifty two.”

“Exactly. By the time I was your age, I had been on over eighteen different planets, fought ponies, mutants, and god knows what else- -and pushed YOU out from between my legs!”

“Mom- -”

“No buts!”

“But you had also lost both arms, your eyes, and your face,” noted Sbaya.

“And been impaled through the chest.”

“Yeah, that one was on me,” said Starlight, raising a hoof. “Sorry.”

Sbaya seemed pale. Starlight opened her omnitool.

“What- -what are you doing?” asked Sbaya, genuinely concerned.

“Summoning my ship,” said Starlight. “I’m not walking all the way back there.”

“You have a ship? What kind?” asked Zedok.

“It’s…oh, what was it called? An AG17 Hermes Mark IV scout vessel.”

Zedok’s jaw dropped. “You- -you mean the ALLIANCE Hermes class?”

“Of course. They make the best ships.”

“You- -you- -Mark IV? MARK IV? That’s- -do you have any idea how much one of those COSTS?”

“Nothing. Because the Alliance doesn’t sell them. Well, not to anyone except the Princess, of course.”

“How much does it cost?” asked Sbaya.

“Well, let me put it this way,” said Zedok. “If I pooled all my money for the next, oh, seven thousand years? I might be able to afford one of the suspension cylinders for its main core.” She turned to Starlight. “Damn, Star. Being a Priestess has some perks, doesn’t it?”

“High Priestess,” corrected Starlight. “But all of that means approximately nothing here. Not without a plan. I have no idea where Scootaloo is or where to find her.”

“Neither do I,” said Zedok. “But I know a place to start.”