The Prism of Infinity

Five

Journey To The Unknown

Written by

Jed R.

Doctor Fluffy.

“We are creating a new way to fly.”
Captain Gabriel Lorca, Star Trek: Discovery – “Context is for Kings”

ARRO/AMMO Command Subcommittee HQ, London, England. May 10th, 2040.

The headquarters that had been set up for Aerial Rapid Response Operations and Aerial Marine Military Operation were, in all honesty, shit. At least, they were in Captain Michael Grey’s illustrious opinion.

It was a poxy little muddy-brown building, entirely nondescript in any way, sat amongst a bunch of other equally nondescript little buildings on a nondescript street. The building looked like it had once been some sort of standard government office, repurposed for ARRO’s use in the most cost-cutting way possible. Why they’d cut costs when their economy – and indeed, their money – might not exist if ARRO failed was something that he’d never understand.

Sometimes, Michael Grey thought, I feel like I’m the only damn person taking this war seriously.

That, of course, wasn’t true. He knew that everyone in ARRO, indeed, everyone in the UN task force dedicated to this war’s progress, was trying their damnedest to find the way to win.

But, Michael thought with a small, cocky smile, none of them are me, are they?

He brushed his uniform jacket down, trying not to let the dismal, overcast day get him down. After all: he had a presentation to make to the ARRO Command Subcommittee, and there would be quite a few people and ponies on that committee that were rather… dubious about him, if he was being generous. Dubious about him, dubious about his methods, dubious about whether his proposals and ideas were worth spit…

There were, truthfully, a lot of odds against him. Still, he had no time to worry about other people’s opinions of him, or about the odds.

He had to win the war.

“What you’re suggesting,” Lyra Heartstrings said evenly, “is madness.”

Lyra Heartstrings was a mint-green Unicorn mare, hard-eyed with just the tiniest flare of idealism sticking out of the mess of responsibilities, clad in a severely cut suit and looking for all the world like the most dedicated politician out there: fitting for the assigned representative of the Free Equestrian movement. Grey nodded slowly at her admonishment, even as his eyes swept over the others in the room. There was Admiral Mia Stone, a stern, forty-something woman with a shaved head and a scowling face, clad in ARRO’s blue jumpsuit uniform. Next to her, Admiral Argent Wind, a stern grey Earth Pony in his own blue uniform, and further along, General Mikhail Petronov, a scarred and taciturn Russian officer who had been one of AMMO’s best assets almost from the organisation’s inception. Along the line was Commodore Daniel Romero, an older American man who had been in the navy before transferring to ARRO (and looked not dissimilar to Grey, with the same shade of piercing blue eyes under greying black hair). Then there was the beech-red Commodore Errant Flight of the Pegasi Air Brigades, a pony who had proven time and again that he was the best flyer in the fleet.

Apart from one, Grey thought, but he dismissed that thought.

All in all, these were tough people, tough ponies: ARRO’s best. The world’s best.

Which is why I have to convince them that my way is right, Grey thought.

“I know it’s a stretch,” he said, speaking calmly and slowly. “But you have to understand: all our projections show that when the Barrier hits Europe, that’s it.” He began pacing in front of their desk, meeting each member of the committee's eyes, one at a time. “Landfall for the Dominion’s armies. Bitter fighting as the Barrier consumes everything. Chaos.”

“It is a terrifying thought,” Stone said with a nod, “but your suggestion is -”

“Is the only way to end this in a way that we find favourable,” Grey cut her off. “It is the only way that we end up being anything more than slaves to the Dominion.”

“You’re being very alarmist, Captain,” Lyra said. Her expression was cold, but not angry. “There are several things still in the works -”

“I know,” Grey interrupted dismissively. “Projects Inferno, Crucible, Agamemnon… but none of those are ready. None of them will be ready, without a breakthrough.”

“Even assuming you got there,” Petronov said, his voice stern and deep, “and even assuming you weren’t all disintegrated or melted or whatever else could happen, what could you do?” He meant forward. “An ARRO airship – even one as formidable as Endeavour – is no match for the Selenic Knight. Certainly not for the Empress.”

“He’s not wrong,” Argent Wind agreed quietly. “If even half of what we’ve had reported is true -”

“Powerful as she is,” Grey said, “she’s one figure, and she’s not the source of the Barrier. If we destroy Canterlot -”

“Destroy Canterlot?” Errant Flight cut in. “You’re talking about slaughtering a city.”

“I’m talking about destroying a target that houses the main military power of our enemy,” Grey retorted. “This is a war of annihilation, Commodore, and – if I may be bold – your people will be better off dead than continuing to be slaves to the Dominion.”

Flight snorted. “Easy for you to say.”

“No,” Romero put in. “Not easy for him to say. Many millions of our kind are already slaves: the Repos.” He looked at Flight, who had the decency to look abashed. “In this, we share common ground, Commodore Flight. Both our peoples are in danger of eternal slavery to the Empress. Death’s preferable in my eyes: what about you?”

There was a brief pause as Flight considered this. Finally, he nodded slowly.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said. “Maybe they are better off dead.” He scowled. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“You don’t,” Romero agreed, “but there’s very little about any of this to like.”

“Destroying Canterlot aside,” Heartstrings said, “what you’re suggesting is still insanely risky. Your ship won’t survive in the Dominion.”

“Better to sacrifice one ship to end the threat of the Barrier now than a thousand in the battle to come,” Grey said quietly. “The enemy’s forces will no doubt be overwhelming when they finally hit.”

“Which is why we need every ship here, fighting the Dominion's forces!” Argent Wind said vehemently.

“The Endeavour is a good ship,” Grey said, “but it’s one ship. Captain Hansen on Endurance has just as much flight experience in her ship, and there’s still the older vessels to consider. I know for a fact that Captain Hill of the Mjolnir has at least eighteen confirmed kills -”

“That’s not the point!” Wind cut him off. “An Excalibur-class ship is a serious investment. It is the pinnacle of our military forces!”

“And that is why it has to be the Endeavour that goes,” Grey said. “Because we’re the best ship in the fleet.”

Romero laughed. “Modest, aren’t you, Grey?”

Grey simply inclined his head. “I’m just being truthful.” His expression hardened. “I’ve got two of Celestia’s own closest allies from before the Dominion days on my ship. They know where to go, where to hit.”

Heartstrings scowled. “You think Twilight will still know where to hit?”

“Specialist Sparkle is one of my best officers, ma’am,” Grey retorted, trying to keep calm in the face of the insult. Some people – some ponies – just can’t get their heads out of their arses. “I trust her to do the job.”

There was a momentary pause as the various officers took note of his tone and his words. Grey gave a small, triumphant smile. He had them.

“We will consider this,” Heartstrings said after a moment. “You’re dismissed, Captain.”

Grey saluted, and turned, leaving immediately.

He definitely had them.

UES Endeavour, E011.

Twilight Sparkle’s desk in the main engine room of the Endeavour was an exercise in ordered chaos, or possibly chaotic order. Truth be told, Grey didn’t quite get the ‘ordered chaos’ thing – he liked his order… well, orderly. The rest of the engine room was orderly enough: the primary part consisted of a giant Equusite crystal, which – with enough magical charge, provided by a crew of trained Unicorns – was powerful enough to do…

… well. Everything they needed it too.

She didn’t look up as he approached. Didn’t even address him.

“They gave us the go-ahead,” Grey said quietly. No sense prolonging it.

“Of course they did,” Twilight replied curtly, tapping a control. “They want the war to end before the bedlam America turned into comes here. Who wouldn’t want that?”

“If it’s so obvious, how come they fought me tooth and nail?” Grey asked, chuckling.

“Because like every politician in history,” Twilight said, still not looking at him, “they are blinkered, foolish, and preoccupied with their own take on how to win this thing.”

“Aren’t we all?” Grey smirked.

Twilight finally looked up, meeting his gaze. After a moment, she smiled as well.

“The difference,” she said, “is that our way will work.”

“Glad you think so,” Grey said. “When will you be ready?”

“That depends on a few things,” Twilight replied, returning her attention to her computer. “But I should be prepared to try in no more than twenty four hours.”

“Good,” Grey said. “I want us to go in forty eight. Gives everyone time to decide if they want to join us on this suicide mission or not.”

Twilight's eyes glinted with something Grey couldn’t pinpoint. “You’re generous.”

“I’m practical,” Grey retorted. “Where we’re going, I want people who know the stakes and accept them.”

Twilight nodded. “If you say so, Captain.” She paused. “Are you ready for this?”

“We’ve gone over the plan in detail a number of times, Commander,” Grey replied, smirking. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Discussing the theory and actually doing it -” Twilight began.

“Specialist Sparkle,” Grey cut her off. “We are going to Equestria. We are going to execute the plan. And we are going to – finally – have the advantage in this war. If you have any doubts…”

He trailed off, giving her a pointed expression. After a moment, she shook her head.

“No doubts, sir,” she said quietly. “This will work.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Grey said, “because we go in forty eight hours.”

Forty eight hours later, Captain Grey was sat in his command chair, checking his readouts. All around him, his crew were at their stations, inputting commands. He smiled, finding himself feeling a sense of anticipation.

This, he thought, is the first step on the road to victory.

He tapped the intercom. “All stations, this is the Captain. Stand by for teleport jump.”

“Hangar deck standing by,” Lieutenant Commander Lightning Dust’s voice spoke. Grey nodded

“Engineering deck ready,” Twilight called in. “All systems primed for jump. And I’m ready.”

“Main crew deck, okey dokey lokey!” CPO Pinkie Pie added. “Got everyone we could strapped snug as a bug in a rug, ready for action! Even chained the toilets up so they don’t spill!”

“Good to know, CPO Pie,” Grey said with a snort. Count on Pinkie Pie to bring absurdity to the most serious moments. He found it annoying, and yet somehow endearing at the same time. Which, he supposed, was the point.

A few more decks reported in, and finally Lieutenant Commander Reeves turned and nodded to Grey.

“All decks ready, sir,” he said. “We’re set.”

“Alright,” Grey said, clapping his hands together and standing. “All decks. We are about to engage.”

He looked at the helm officer, Lieutenant McIntyre, who inputted a command into his station.

“We have released control to engineering deck,” he reported. “Standing by.”

“Co-ordinates for teleport jump inputted into the drive computer,” Twilight’s voice came through. “Energising. Going dark and waiting for final command.”

Grey held his breath for a moment. This was it.

“Go,” he ordered.

There was a microscopic pause, and then suddenly all hell broke loose. The entire ship jolted forward, pitching officers from their seats. Grey was thrown forward, landing heavily on his side, and he grimaced in pain.

“REPORT!” he bellowed.

No one was at their stations to tell him anything, and so for a moment, pandemonium reigned on the Endeavour’s bridge. After a couple of minutes, McIntyre managed to reach his station, and he tapped a few commands in.

“GPS is gone, sir, I can confirm we have moved,” he said at once, inputting more commands. “Trying to confirm location… wait…”

He looked up, out of the front observation window. Grey followed his gaze, and soon the rest of the bridge crew followed suit.

The sky was blue. The most perfect shade of blue, like every cliche sunny day everyone had ever seen. The few clouds in the sky were the sort of white, fluffy things you saw in cartoons, rather than the wispy, dull things Grey and his crew were used to.

Grey took a breath. “Navigational report.”

“We’re checking landmarks for identifiable features, sir,” McIntyre said, “but -”

“Captain Grey,” came an irate voice in an Afrikaner accent, “this is Kraber. Report to the engineering deck immediately. Please.”

Grey raised one eyebrow at the voice’s tone, before turning to Reeves. “Find out where we are before I get back, Mr Reeves.”

“Aye, sir,” Reeves said evenly, moving over to McIntyre’s console.

When Grey got to the engineering deck, they’d pulled Twilight out of the column, gently as possible. Dr Viktor Kraber, the chief medical officer, was there too, his bushy beard bristling, his pale blue medical uniform decidedly unkempt.

“There you are!” he said when he saw Grey. “I can’t believe you let her do this! What the absolute fok, Captain?!”

“What happened?” Grey asked one of the engineers, deliberately ignoring Kraber.

“I don’t know, sir!” the engineer said. “During the jump she just… she just went stiff, stopped responding.”

“Sir,” Kraber said, scowling, “she’s fokkin’ catatonic.”

“Catatonic?” Grey repeated, frowning as he finally turned to address Grey. “That’s never happened in the test jumps.”

“This was much further than the test jumps,” Kraber retorted, scowling. “I already told you, sir, that she’d strained her nervous system doing these things.”

“She knew the risks,” Grey said quietly.

“Did she?!” Kraber asked scathingly.

“Better than you, Dr Kraber,” Grey snapped, looking him in the eye. “Or are you seriously suggesting that Twilight Sparkle miscalculated the potential effects of her invention?”

“I’m suggesting that Twilight Sparkle has a history of self-destructive behaviours that prevent her from adequately taking her own health into consideration. Anyone that knows her would know that,” Kraber retorted hotly, “and instead of taking that into account, reeling her back before self-care made its way to the prestigious spot of last in her list while planning the design and use of your new favourite toy, you decided to enable her self destructive insanity!”

Grey scowled, before taking a breath to calm himself down. “Get her to sickbay, find out what her situation is. Get me a report as soon as you can.”

Kraber looked like he was warring between his training and the desire to punch Grey in the face, but Grey didn’t even wait for him to decide. He had better things to do.

When Grey returned to the bridge, he found it a mess of controlled chaos. Reeves was still standing by McIntyre’s console, checking the readouts.

“Sir,” he said, “we have a fix on a city that matches Canterlot’s profile… by eighty two percent.” He looked worried. “There’s a lot of discrepancies, sir.”

“Set course for Canterlot, best speed,” Grey said at once, taking his seat. “I want weapons at ready ASAP.”

“Yes, sir,” Reeves said at once, moving to his console and tapping out some commands. He frowned. “Sir, there’s a lot of discrepancies. Visual scans aren’t picking up any of the barracks or industrial areas that should be there. We -”

A sudden beeping started, and Grey looked at Reeves, who was looking at a different part of his readout with wide eyes.

“Contact off starboard, sir,” he said.

Grey frowned. “Enemy ship?”

“No, sir, too small,” Reeves said, checking his readout. “Might be a Pegasus scout.”

“I see,” Grey said, nodding slowly. He paused, considering his options, before making a decision. “Deploy Point Defence Turrets.”

Reeves nodded, tapping out some commands. “Aye, sir, activating PDT.”

Grey took a deep breath. “Give me a report on damage as and when, Mr Reeves.” He turned to McIntyre. “Anything on scope?”

“Canterlot is still dead ahead, sir,” McIntyre replied. “Estimate one hour until firing range at current speed.”

“One hour?” Grey repeated, scowling. He stood up, looking over McIntyre’s shoulder. “Want to explain why it’s going to take that long in the fastest airship mankind ever built, Mr McIntyre?”

“Engines are a little stressed from our jump, sir,” McIntyre replied, frowning. “In fact, a lot of systems are out of phase with each other.”

“How long ‘til we’re back at optimum, Lieutenant?” Grey asked.

“Hard to say, sir,” McIntyre replied, shrugging apologetically. “We don’t have a full damage report yet.”

Grey rubbed the bridge of his nose, before turning to Reeves. “At least tell me weapons are primed and ready for when we reach Canterlot.”

“We’ve got everything but the kitchen sink loaded, sir,” Reeves assured him with a nod. “Particle cannons standing by, missiles loaded, and shields at maximum.”

“Good,” Grey said, turning to look out of the window, clasping his hands behind his back. “Glad to know something’s at optimum today.”

This was not going quite how he’d expected, he had to admit, but under the circumstances –

“Captain?” a familiar voice came from behind him, interrupting his thought process. “There’s somepony here you’ll want to see.”

Grey sighed, not turning around. “CPO Pie, how many times do I have to -”

And then he turned around.

Standing in front of him was a cyan Pegasus, a rainbow-coloured mane unruly around her head, her eyes narrowed at him in what could only be suspicion.

Rainbow Dash, he thought, unsure how to react. Under the circumstances, there was only one thing he could say.

“What the hell.”

Author's Note

This has been mostly complete for ages so I thought I’d finish it off and get it out here.