The Coming Crusade

“Applebloom!”  The voice barely cut through the din inside the engine compartment.  Inside the feverish heat Applebloom raced from one panel to another as she desperately fought with her ship's dysfunctional engines.  A conduit burst open, and she was already there with a patch as the coolant alarms began to sound again.  “Applebloom, I'm losing lateral control up here!”

“Ah know, quit your whining and let me work!”  A swift kick switched the intercom off as the mechanic leapt straight onto the core and slammed the wrench in her mouth down and violently resealed the coolant line.  Jumping back off she headbutted the redirect switch and frantically waited for the temperatures to show any change.  “Please... come on, come on...”  The readouts, almost maxed in the red, finally began to drop.  Applebloom let out a gasping sigh of relief.  Flicking the radio switch with her nose, the exhausted engineer giving her two cents back up to the cockpit.  “Aight, she's as good as she'll ever get.  We have'ta drop this here drive or it's gonna cook us.”  With a shaky leg she slid the small medical case  in front of her and popped the top.

She could hear Sweetie Bell and Scootaloo saying something, but too quietly for their microphone to pick up.  Taking the short moment Applebloom picked a rad-shot up in her mouth and winced before jamming it into her shoulder.  The burning solution inside surged into her veins, and already sweet relief from the dying engine's emissions was coming over her.  “We're three minutes from normal space, think it'll make that?”

“Yeah... it'll make that,” she responded sluggishly.

“Applebloom, are you alright?”  There was an odd echo to Sweetie Bell's voice.

“The core ruptured a bit... coolant leak.  Had to patch it... bare-hooved.”

“By the stars!  Don't move, I'm bringing the medical pack!”

“Don't you dare... not until ah vent the air and recycle.  Ah took a shot, gives me some time.”

“AB, we can't vent when we're winked out!  We still have two minutes!”

“Two minutes... rad-shot is making me... funny-headed.  I can make it.”  A red light caught Applebloom's attention and she turned her head slowly.  It was a countdown to the engine's completely melting down.  The temperature wasn't rising, but there wasn't enough coolant left to drop it any farther.  Dizzily she pushed away from the utility cabinet and stumbled to the control panels.  She set her hoof in the receptor and twisted, the ejection levers rising up just beside her.

She'd never done this before, jettisoned an entire wink-drive.  There was a first for everything.  When she'd worked on the Halter classes, great lumbering cargo trains that they were, there had been backups in case one drive burned out.  This wasn't even an Equestrian ship, the engineering section was customized just to fit a wink-engine.  Doubts aside, dizziness ignored, Applebloom knew one thing for sure.  The very second she felt the jolt of falling back to normal space, the engine she'd spent time and sweat working on was being pledged to the void.

She heard a dull thunk, it came from the engineering section's hatch.  She panned her head just enough to see Sweetie Bell there, yelling and slamming on the door.  “Sorry... rad alarms lock it.”  She knew Sweetie didn't hear her.

“Fifteen seconds, AB!  Pop the grappling!”  With every ounce of strength she had, Applebloom lifted her rump into the air and kicked the first lever.  There was a deafening crunch of metal breaking away, and then the jolt of winking back into normal space.  “NOW!”  Applebloom kicked the second lever, but it didn't budge.  She felt so drained, but she wasn't giving up.  She kicked it again, and again.  She could feel give, and with a cry of frustration she threw her entire body on the lever and pulled.  There was whoosh of air, a sudden feeling of weightlessness, then nothing.  For a moment Applebloom though she heard Sweetie Bell's voice, but the dark took her right after.

“How is she?”

“Stubborn.”  Sweetie placed a hoof on Applebloom's forehead gently and pushed a few loose hairs away from her closed eyes.  “Too stubborn for her own good, but she'll be alright.”

“Too stubborn for a ruptured engine core... that's AB for you, on her hooves again in a few hours just like always.  Anyway, I'm about to take us into port”

“I'll stay here until we're docked.  Make it smooth.”  Scootaloo trotted out of the medical closet and took her immediate left right into the cockpit.  Before taking the pilot's chair, she let a long gaze out the forward viewers catch her.  The sun was just cresting over the moons of Vaoconis Five, and the immense spaceport was caught in the rays to appear only as a black silhouette against the blue giant's blinding light.

Placing her hooves against the pressure pads, Scootaloo banked the Crusader and readied it for approach to the orbiting station.  Dragons always angled their stations to orbit against the axis, and that made approaching tricky for the uninitiated.  Most pilots had to chart an acceleration vector before coming in.  Scootaloo was not like most pilots, she'd been trained by legends and the simple matter of landing her ship, no matter the situation, was something she'd mastered as a filly.

She finally drew in close enough and nudged the communication switch with her nose.  “Vaoconis control this is the CM Crusader requesting permission to dock.”

“Transmit permit code, CM Crusader.”  The hissing growl of a dragon's voice grated the calm interior of the cockpit.

“Transmitting,” Scootaloo said as she tapped the code into the holo-panel beside her before replacing her hoof on the flight-controls.

“Code received and cleared.  What is your business on Vaoconis Station, CM Crusader?”

“Trade and restock.  We also have a medical concern and request a physician to meet us.”

“Acknowledged, you are cleared to bay nine, gantry fourteen.  Enjoy your business.”

“Thanks.  CM Crusader out.”  It had been an exceedingly hollow greeting, but that was how it worked with neutral ports.  They didn't like you, but they loved your money.  Flying the Crusader in and out of still approaching ships, Scootaloo was in minutes pulling into the dock.  The moment she felt the familiar jolt of the gantry clamping down she kicked the locking brake and was out of the cockpit in a single bound.  “Sweetie, we're in and a medical group is waiting.”

“Good.  As much as I hate having to go, if I don't unload the cargo then our welcome will disappear faster than our wink-drive.”

“I'll stay for a bit.  Meet you at the Sunswept?”

“Deal.”  Scoot and Sweetie knocked hooves together before the unicorn trotted out the door towards the hatch.  Just outside on the ramp were a trio of medics, Equestrian even.  “Medical cabinet, second bulkhead on the left.”

“Injuries?”

“Radiation sickness from a wink-drive core rupture.”

“An unstable spell-field... how long was the exposure, under fifteen minutes?”

“I'm not sure,” Sweetie Bell sighed, Applebloom had failed to mention when the breach had occurred.  They had been winked out for nearly a half hour.

“Is there fever?”

“Yes, she was burning up.”

“That's good, means she's fighting it and her immune system is still working.  We'll get right to work.”

“Thank you... um, Dr?”

“Corpspony... Corpspony Cross-Stitch.”  The group moved inside with Sweetie Bell simply watching them.  A Corpspony meant military, a Royal Equestrian Navy rank to be exact.  Then again, it wasn't unusual for large Equestrian military vessels to restock at neutral ports.  Thinking nothing more of it the unicorn trotted to the platform-crane as it offloaded the three pods.

At the bottom of the ramp a towering dragon was checking off from a clipboard big enough for Sweetie to stand on with room to stretch.  It looked down at her with one burning yellow eye and snorted.  “Name?”

“Sweetie Bell, captain of the CM Crusader.”

“It's a fifty bit docking fee, added costs for refit and refuel.  Rearming must be done through individual contractors, and private crews must preform the work.  Captains are held solely liable for any and all damages, accidental or otherwise.  Do you agree to these terms?”

“Your terms are understood and accepted.”  With a flash of light from her horn Sweetie signed the worker's paperwork without him even having to show it to her.  It was all routine, but at least this dragon wasn't trying to administer a “docking toll.”  A short ride on the dock tram and Sweetie was on her way towards the main station.  She never felt comfortable at the dragon stations, they were beyond huge.  But, there was far too much good business here for her to simply ignore.

In the span of an hour she proved herself correct.  Two gem traders nearly came to blows over who had the better price on a pod, and a rather rough and tumble group of zebras gave an even sweeter deal.  Down to only a single pod and Sweetie Bell was trying not to let her eyes spin at the numbers she was looking at.  “Scoot was right... I could just about buy my own pivate port with this.”  Checking her saddle-pack's clock Sweetie decided it was time take a break from negotiations.  The Sunswept was just across the mezzanine deck and she felt like a drink was well in order.

A quick trot, a lift, and Sweetie Bell was staring up at the Sunswept's bouncer as she snarled down a troublemaker.  “And I told you this is a bar, not an eye-show!  Now take your idiocy elsewhere!”  A clean right hook from the red dragon and the offender was sent over the railing.

“Cleaning house, Tia?”  The bouncer turned her head down and smiled wide, showing off an impressive spread of dagger-like teeth.

“Sweetie Bell!  Oh it's good to finally have a respectable customer or two.  Go on in!”

“Thanks Tia.  Are there any other ponies in?”

“A few, yeah.  Friends?”

“My pilot might have beat me here.”

“Have time to stop by when I'm off?”

“Maybe, I'll message you later.”  Passing Tia by, Sweetie nodded her goodbye and descended the stairs into the bar.  It was darker inside, colored lights giving the proper ambiance of a not quite seedy establishment.  There was just enough light to spot the outline of three ponies sitting behind a booth screen.  Only outlines, Sweetie couldn't tell if she was looking at her pilot and a few friends or total strangers.  “One way to find out.”

Weaving through tables and waiters Sweetie made her way across the floor.  The music was loud, the patrons louder, and plenty of drinks going this way and that.  There was a time she would have shunned such a place, but not anymore.  Her days in the Cloudsdale militia had changed her views on what was respectable, as well as a great deal many other things.  As she brushed aside the linen screen, Sweetie sighed her relief as she saw Scootaloo nursing a drink.  “Well if it ain't Sweetie Bell herself!”  That voice...

Turning slowly the unicorn stared into the mirror-like surfaces of a pair of shade-visors.  There was only one white pony that wore such things everywhere she went.  “Vinyl!  By the stars, Vinyl Scratch!”  The two unicorns practically tackled each other as they embraced, laughing their way unceremoniously to the floor after both lost balance.  After picking themselves up they hugged properly and took their seats.  “What are you doing here?!”

Vinyl grinned before taking a long chug from her drink and sighing contently.  “Got my own ship now, well... co-got.  Sweetie Bell, I'd like you to meet my partner in crime, Octavia.  Octavia, this is my oldest friend Sweetie Bell.  We were in the militia together.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”  The gray pony extended her hoof and Sweetie met it.

“The pleasure is mine.  So, your own ship?”

“Oh yeah.  Palomino class, spent every bit I had on her but she was worth it.”  Both Sweetie and Scoot were taken aback as Vinyl punctuated herself with a long drink.

“A Palomino?  Vinyl, that's...”

“Awesome!”  Scoot interjected, smacking the table before taking another gulp of her drink.  “That's a missile destroyer!  You must have spent a fortune, good for you!”

“Indeed, I'm impressed.  You never were very good with your money and now this.”

“Wasn't too much trouble thanks to Octy here.  We're in the escort business right now, just brought in a convoy from the asteroid mines out by the dead-rim.  Total cake walk.”

“Diamond dogs?”

“You bet.  Not nice, but pay so good I can tolerate the bad breath.”

“She means to say that we appreciate their money more than their manners.”

“Thanks Octy.  Never knew I needed a translator before Octy here came around," Vinyl said as she nudged Octavia with her shoulder, the darker pony quite obviously rolling her eyes.  "Anyway, you gotta hear this.”  Taking that moment, Vinyl downed the rest of her mug and slammed it down with a grin, froth coating her lips.  “The dogs have been getting nervous.  Somebody has been nabbing transports shuttling their cargo, never leaves any survivors... not even wreckage.  They've been calling in big guns to help them out.  Even a shipment or two of their jewels have gotten nabbed.”

“Never any wreckage?”  Scoot looked at her partner, who returned the glance.

“What... you guys know something?  Sweetie Bell, you got the 'I know something you don't' look.”

Taking a deep breath, Sweetie Bell let herself relax.  A young dragon stopped by their table and handed a menu over, but the unicorn declined it.  “I know what I want.  A Jovian Sunspot please... you know what, make it two.”  The waiter nodded and left to deliver the order.

“Never was a fan of those sugary drinks you order.”

“I need this one.”  Waiting for privacy again, Sweetie leaned forward and motioned the others to do the same.  “Scoot and I came across wreckage.  Whole Diamond dog freighter ripped apart.  Dead sector, unclaimed... since the cargo was untouched we grabbed a few pods and made away like bandits," she said just as her drinks were set down.  One was gone in a single throw back of her head.

“For good reason,” Scoot muttered.  "It was one of the gem shipments."

“We ran because we figured whatever splashed the ship was coming back.  Looks like we were right.”

“Have you sold the pods?”  Vinyl's words hinted serious concern.

“All but one.”

“Can't argue that was free salvage, but you're playing with fire, Sweetie.”

“I know.  But... I can't argue with the money either.  The Crusader needs a new wink-drive... a restock.  We needed it.”  Vinyl and Octavia both nodded their heads.

“No one's blaming you.  Heck... what I would do for a payday like the gems those mutts shuttle around.  Dragons eat them you know, considered a delicacy.  That alone makes them worth a fortune.  But, let's forget this nasty business and have some fun.  Come on girls, bottoms up!”

The four ponies all finished their drinks and slid out from the table, Vinyl taking the lead as she hollered on about some club she wanted to visit. Sweetie was even able to crack a smile again.  She felt better knowing she'd made the right call, even on such a tough decision.  She nodded in acceptance to Vinyl's invitation to join her, taking her eyes from the stairs for a moment.  That was all it took.  She looked back and saw half a dozen Diamond dogs standing there, and the biggest of them pointed right at her.  “Uh oh.”