Battlewings

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8

Chapter 1

Many years ago the great British explorer George Mallory, who was to die on Mount Everest, was asked why did he want to climb it. He said, "Because it is there." Well, space is there, and we're going to climb it, and the moon and the planets are there, and new hopes for knowledge and peace are there. And, therefore, as we set sail we ask God's blessing on the most hazardous and dangerous and greatest adventure on which man has ever embarked.

-- John F. Kennedy, September 12, 1962

Equestria was a once rich and beautiful world, where benevolence prevailed and corruption was destined to crumble before the forces of harmony's reign. The magical nature of the planet dictated a society where good and evil were recognizable with approachable issues. Rarely was there a gray dominion of complicated matters beyond the internal turmoils of one's self.

Then one shivering night, "they" arrived to change pony lives forever. They came one-by-one from a faraway world, light years beyond the most distant star in the gulf of space. The humans.

Tales of woe and misery followed in their wake as they told the legend of their homeworld and its tragic fate. Homeless for many years in the alien darkness were these advanced, outland beings as their planet as well as the system where it existed were long ago destroyed by brutal conflict. The world of Equestria would be their destination and soon to be their new homeworld, as ponykind accepted them with open arms.

For years that followed the ponies learned from the humans, becoming technologically equal in many respects, achieving what not even the magical elements could surpass: interplanetary travel and colonization by the use of "Light-Drive" FTL engines and cryotechnology, among other such advancements. Together the species had aided ponies in their endeavor to finally conquer space, for the good of equinity and others that allied with the Equestrian Empire.

But it was not without the cost of tainting the once innocent image of a utopian world. Technology had overshadowed the principles of magic. The cerapter rulers in their grand Canterlot palace were puppets to the reign of corporations, as their vile byproduct poisoned the skies with eternal gloom and rainfall. Human corruption was rampant among Equestrian lives, with political friction and racism growing by the years. But it was nothing compared to what followed.

Several human extremist groups began forming offworld, determined to conquer the planet by extermination of its "inferior" inhabitants. The growing disharmony made it difficult to suppress various movements emerging throughout the system, as more and more made their presence known to all who opposed. Terrorist organizations unified in their common goal, growing into a formidable force in power that shook the hearts of those that sought peace and unity.

The Consolidated Rebel Alliance for Incursion Forces, commonly referred to by the acronym of CRAI, was the result of such extremism, an antagonistic coalition bent on the annihilation of nonhuman xenointelligence. They viewed themselves as the superior rulers of the galaxy, advanced and militarized, with unmatched resistance.

That is until select human naval forces and Royal Guard factions of the two princesses combined resources to form a specialized defense force in response to this severely growing threat. A dauntless military branch of all species that specialized in the superiority of both land, sea, air, and space to a galactic level, with special emphasis on aerospatial capability. That branch came to be known as the 125th Stellar Defense Force. Also known as... Battlewings.

Now, in the year 2241, the ultimate battle for Equestria and the good of humanity will be fought, to preserve harmony and freedom throughout the galaxy.

Chapter 2

Orion was among three other orbital security bases that guarded the Lunar Sector, in a geostationary orbit above the southwestern hemisphere of the Equestrian Moon. The purpose behind these stations was to guard the various settlements situated on the surface, as well as serve as a supplemental checkpoint to the defenses that surrounded the planet against hostile forces.

Several sections of the station were still under construction, as this particular orbital was still brand new among its counterparts. Space traffic was complete with civilian transports, security spacecraft, construction vehicles, and cargo ships to and from the orbital and both the Lunar and Equestrian surface.

Tensions were high among the inhabitants of this particular sector, as attacks had recently occurred by small CRAI units in the past months in an attempt to infiltrate Lunar space as a strategic location for following invasion forces. All were repelled by local security forces, but the threat was undoubtedly growing in some unknown corners of the system and only heightened the pressure it had on the people closest to the devastation.

Lacewing and Lemon Drop were two such unnerved ponies destined for Orion, being cargo shuttle pilots hired to deliver maintenance equipment and food storage to the incomplete orbital. Thoughts of the previous attacks overshadowed their assessment of the task at hand, with Lacewing staring worryingly out the viewport of the shuttle's cockpit.

"Lace?" Lemon Drop spoke softly to break Lacewing out of her trance, but not so much as to startle her.

She shifted her attention to her co-pilot, then back to the flight controls. "Sorry."

"We're approaching Orion, prepare docking sequence."

Lacewing punched appropriate commands into her console and opened a communication line to the Lunar orbital. "Orion Traffic Control, this is EA cargo vessel X-Ray Three-Seven-Zero heavy requesting permission to dock at Port One-Eight."

Two seconds later a response crackled on the communicator. "Roger, transport. Please upload latest security codes and stand by."

Lemon Drop entered codes written on a sticky note near a small viewscreen through her console and sent them to the security receivers on board the station. "Uploading now."

Infiltration of orbital stations by use of seemingly friendly cargo vessels was not uncommon among the recent attacks that Orion personnel had seen reported in the news. Most attempts were foiled due to possession of outdated security codes sent to the defense databases.

The human traffic controller stationed at Orion's STC was diligent in double-checking the mainframe's automated security systems to ensure that the incoming shuttle's codes were up to date and genuine, much to the infuriation of his assistant coordinator of equally human persuasion that voiced his impatience with a loud huff.

The space traffic control station was cramped with security and coordination hardware leaving barely room to move. The lights were dim in contrast to the viewscreens so as not to obstruct view from a single, polyglass viewport overlooking the Lunar horizon. Visual obstruction seemed unavoidable, however, as another traffic controller behind them succumbed to a moment of laziness, choosing to initiate his break here instead of a designated leisure area. His cigarette spread plumes of smoke swirling around the instrumentation, silhouetting even adjacent consoles in eerie backlight.

The traffic controller hard at work attempted to ignore the foul air and bitter taste as he swallowed hard, finishing his last check on the security codes sent by the "Iridani Princess," as the computer indicated that the shuttle's name was. What an unfittingly regal name for such an ugly utility craft. He proceeded to deactivate security systems to allow access to the ship's desired docking port. "The security codes check out, you're cleared to dock at Port One-Eight."

"Copy that, Orion," the shuttle responded, "Much thanks."

The controller stood at his station, his back aching from sitting in the uncomfortably small seat for so long, stretching out his sore muscles. He looked around the various monitors for other incoming traffic, but saw no more than the usual spacecraft moving about the station's exterior, with no indication of docking or landing. He saw this as an opportunity to join his fellow controller rearward, waving away his curtains of smoke to reach the nearby table.

"Slow day..." the other controller grunted through his teeth as he held his cigarette in place, reviewing some station documents on a tablet next to a tray of food.

"Eh, I've seen slower." He looked at the controller's choice of meal: soypro blocks of what was advertised as pork with beans and cheese. His nausia grew when he imagined the artificial flavors, having been living off such imitation junk ever since he transferred to Orion. It was a standard since equine were predominantly vegetarian and station reserves had to accommodate this strict diet, without sacrificing the preferences of human personnel. It was an aggravating compromise, but it was better than nothing.

"Umm..." The assistant coordinator verbalized with sudden apprehension, bolting forward to peer at a nearby CRT screen.

The controller stood back up and headed over to him. "What do you got?"

"There's two unidentified signatures approaching the station."

His heart sank as he heard the news, observing the two green blips closing in, but hoped for a false positive.

"I can't retrieve any identification from them. And they're moving fast."

Oh no. Our first intruders! He scrambled to his console and quickly opened a channel to the Iridani Princess. "X-Ray Three-Seven-Zero, this is Orion Traffic Control... be advised, two unidentified signatures are in your shadow! Check your right-rear quadrant!"

The traffic controller repeated the transmission, further anchoring the realization of the dire situation that the two ponies had found themselves in as they approached the docking port. Lemon Drop frantically checked her instrumentation and detection systems, but found nothing on the screens indicating any incoming spacecraft.

"I'm checking my scopes," She replied, "But I don't see anything!"

"Confirmed! Two fast-moving spacecraft closing in on your position! Abort, now!"

Lacewing patted her side, grabbing her attention. She was staring out the viewport with overwhelming intensity that forced her to follow her gaze, finding the source of her anguish.

Two small fighters approached the drifting spacecraft with aggressive speed, weapon stores activating and firing towards them. They watched helplessly as red tracers filled their field of view, hearing the impacts of armor-piercing bullets tearing through the civilian vessel's hull. Before any of them could react, the chemical rounds ignited the internal fuel reserves and reduced the ship to a mess of twisted metal fragments blown apart in a brief but powerful blast.

The two ships passed by the scattering remains of the Iridani Princess, proceeding towards vital locations on the orbital's structure. They were unusually small and agile craft, unlike any CRAI designs before it.

The traffic controller put aside his curiosity regarding the design and activated the stationwide emergency alert system. "This is an Orion Security Control... Battle stations! Battle stations! Two CRAI fighters are attacking the orbital! Battle stations! Battle stations!"

Space traffic around the station was already dissipating as ships hurried to docking ports and hangar bays or completely left the sector before they met the same fate as the unfortunate cargo vessel.

He could only hope that the station security personnel were able to dispatch the intruders before they did any more damage than they already were. Several locations on the station were already going down by the minute, blacking out on the mainframe faster than evacuation orders could be sent.

Alarms and warning lights accented the chaos of station personnel and utility vehicles rushing throughout the main hangar bay, many of which in a state of confusion as they incoherently followed others fleeing to safety or a designated task.

One pale-blue pony in particular broke through the crowds, heading straight for a small fighter hastily being prepped for battle. She climbed into the cockpit, tucking her flowing mane of multicolor hair into her flightsuit, proceeding to start up the ship's engines and other systems. System diagnostics... okay. Weapons... full capacity. Hull integrity... one hundred percent. Her spacecraft was ready for action. It was a Royal Aerospace Factory FB-82C lightweight fighter, a standard spacecraft for perimeter security forces, and a ship that she took pride in piloting whenever she had the chance. It made her feel empowered, unstoppable.

The canopy lowered and sealed the cockpit airtight, prompting her to activate the internal atmospherics. A knock on the hull grabbed her attention, as the human personnel signaled with a thumbs-up to indicate that she was ready to go. She responded with a salute before a final pre-flight check.

"Dash!" A voice called out on the communicator, "Ready to kick ass?"

She looked to her left to find her Griffon friend and wingperson Gilda occupying the companion fighter nearby, already in VTOL mode as it hovered in preparation to leave the hangar bay. "You know it!" She then switched to VTOL mode as well, raising her spacecraft to a steady hover next to Gilda. "Orion," She hailed to the STC, "Spectrum-Dash-Raven hot and ready to fly, over."

"Roger, pilots," They replied, "You're clear for take-off."

Gilda was first to flaunt her turbojets as she blasted away from the landing pads. "Haha! Slowpoke!"

Dash reacted to the audacious action and quickly engaged her own turbojets to follow her departure, sure to deactivate VTOL thrust as they arrived in the vacuum of space. They both rejoined after correcting their course back for Orion, scanning for the hostiles that threatened the station.

"Alright, Spectrum," Gilda started, "Remember the deal?"

She did as she smirked at her partner through the tinted polyglass. "Sure. Last one to down a CRAI buys tonight's round of cider. And we both know who that's gonna be!"

"Negative visual on our 'guests,' no sign of them on radar."

Dash blew a raspberry at the sharp change of subject and looked at her own instrumentation to locate the intruders. Two blips appeared at the bottom of her CRT display, with labels identifying the foreign serial codes that indicated their CRAI origin. "I got 'em. Two bandits hot and high, left rear and advancing."

"Confirmed, looks like they spotted us. Let's do this!"

"Reference three-sixty on my lead."

"Copy, three-six-zero!"

The pair of fighters banked around to face the incoming hostile craft emerging from the other side of the station, matching velocity and spreading into a fluid two formation with weapon stores exposed.

Dash flipped the safety catch off the weapon controls on her stick. "Alright, here they come. Roll eighty-two on my mark, we'll drop in behind once they correct their approach."

Gilda acknowledged with a hoot to assert her high spirit.

The two enemies converged into a loose echelon, firing their internal 25mm autocannons that showered their line of sight with red tracers. Dash and Gilda spun to avoid the frontal assault, buying them enough time for the ships to pass right between them in indistinct streaks across the darkness.

"Now!" Dash shouted, prompting the both of them to execute the maneuver that she had relayed to Gilda. They rolled and banked behind the hostile fighters, getting a close-up view of their engine outlets and unusual fuselage layout. The enemies attempted to split off in order to evade the pursuit. "Stay on them! Don't give 'em any breathing room!"

"I know!" Gilda responded, "I'm going left, you go right!"

"Good luck, Raven!"

The two fighters parted ways as they each chased the individual spacecraft towards Orion, both of which heightened their proximity to the hull of the orbital and its various structures to avoid their pursuers.

Dash struggled to acquire a lock on the ship as it dodged the targeting software, achieving maneuvers around several engineering structures and communication spires in such a way that seemed impossible to carry out by any normal human pilot, let alone CRAI. She was breaking out into a sweat as she closed in on the fighter, straining to maintain pursuit despite the erratic flight characteristics of her opponent.

The computer finally registered a lock onto the fuselage with a loud whine, with Dash quickly reacting with a squeeze of the autocannons. The pivoted wingtip rotary guns tracked the moving target and fired their 30mm explosive projectiles with bright blue tracers, engulfing the hostile spacecraft in a barrage of pyrotechnic discharge that resulted in its fuselage blasting apart in a violent yet soundless explosion.

She banked to avoid the splintering debris and shouted a cheer for her victory. "Target down! Target down!"

"Got a problem here, Spectrum!" Gilda shouted on the radio, "Need assistance, now!"

Dash located her position on the radar screen and looked out the window to confirm her bearings. To her panic, she spotted the second hostile chasing Gilda through the exposed substructures of the station, leaving little opportunity for her to break away. Red tracers swarmed her rear quadrant, with several impact points already visible on her lightly-armored hull.

"On my way!" Dash rolled and rushed to her aid, approaching the offending spacecraft.

"Get him off me! I can't shake him!"

"Hang on, I almost got him!" The computer registered a lock. She attacked with the rotary guns to no avail, as the maneuvers that she shadowed resulted in the fighter flying out of range of the tracking systems.

A panel on Gilda's fighter blasted away from the fuselage, nearly hitting Dash's window. She could hear the emergency alarm over the open comm. "I'm hit! I'm hit!"

"Almost got him!" Dash was desperate to attain a kill before the situation worsened, as she switched to the missile trigger on her flight controls.

"He's got a lock on me! Do something!"

The loud whine that she was anxious to hear finally came from her targeting computer. "I've got tone! I've got tone, firing!" With a tight grip of the trigger she launched a radar-guided SRVM. It propelled away like a shooting star, determined to strike its target before a volley of decoy flares deflected it into a structure on the nearby station. "Shit, I missed!"

She tried again, but it was a fruitless effort as she wasted her only other missile, forcing her to switch back to the previous stores. "I'm out of missiles, switching back to guns!"

Her chest tightened and time seemed to crawl as she watched a small short-range, vacuum-capable projectile launch from an underwing pylon on the enemy fighter, heading straight for Gilda.

"Bug in the vac!" She responded by deploying her own flares, resulting in the missile deflecting into empty space due to the confused guidance system. "Missile evaded... he's still got a lock on me, Spectrum!"

The hostile fighter launched another SRVM.

"Missile in the black! Out of flares! Ejecting!" Her action unfolded mid-sentence as she activated the emergency ejection system. In a split second, several explosive bolts popped and separated the fighter's canopy away from the rest of the fuselage with micro JATO engines, leaving the ship to drift aimlessly away from the individually-pressurized pod that was once the cockpit.

Dash and the enemy fighter banked to avoid the dead metal, which proceeded to drift towards Orion and crash into another engineering structure. As she was distracted by shifting her attention to the wellbeing of Gilda trapped in her escape pod, as well as the empty fuselage destroying more of the already severely-damaged orbital, the hostile spacecraft managed to turn the tables and pursue her from the rear.

Red tracers flew past the windows as she tried to break away, the fighter closing its distance and tracking her movements with its signature maneuverability. Another tone whined through her cockpit, but this one was the most unwelcome and dreaded for fighter pilots: the alarm indicating a radar lock from an enemy spacecraft.

"Alright, that's it!" She punched a large yellow button on the dashboard panel. Her external fuel reserves jettisoned from the underwing stores and drifted into the vacuum.

The hostile fighter was agile enough to avoid the first tank, but was somehow blindsided into impacting the second one, resulting in its inevitable and fiery demise.

"Wohoo! Tango delta!" Luck like that doesn't come easy...

"Dash, I'm still in trouble here!" Gilda's situation was indeed dire as indicated by her breaking communication standards by using her partner's real name rather than callsign. "I'm in a dead drift towards Orion!"

Dash could spot her moving at an alarmingly high velocity, heading towards a giant control spire atop the STC section of the station.

"My thrusters are tango uniform! I have no, repeat, no attitude control!"

"Hang on, I'm coming to you!" Dash boosted for the rogue pod to intercept it with her tractor beam, pulling it out of danger just a few meters away from contact with the station surface.

"Thanks, Dash." The relief in Gilda's voice was obvious.

"Heh, saved your flank again, 'ey G?"

"Oh, gimmie a break."

Chapter 3

The morning sun crept from behind the glassy expanse of the North Luna Ocean, casting brilliant orange glows among the thick convective clouds and silhouetting the opposite sides of the nearby Smokey Mountains.

The lush elevations of the Equestrian countryside appeared uninhabited, untouched by human or even pony influence. Trees and grass swayed in a gentle wind. The only indication of unnatural presence, it seemed, was a long and winding dirt road leading to what appeared to be an abandoned water reservoir. In actuality, this structure was simply camouflage for a long-range communications dish and other sensor arrays belonging to a subterranean network hidden within the mountain.

The secondary command center of the Royal Equestrian Aerospace Defense Command (READ) was the fifth installation in a grid elemental to the surface defenses of the planet, with the Smokey Mountain Nuclear Complex housing planet-buster capable missiles among the standard stock of lower-yield ICBMs. They sat quietly in their secret underground silos, constantly fueled and maintained, ready for the moment they would see daylight as their hatches buried shallow in the dirt would open in a prelude to their devastating power.

Beyond the blast door built to deflect 60-megaton explosions, at the far end of a long tunnel leading deep into the mountainside, was the bunker system itself, containing the READ secondary command center and Royal Equestrian Northern Command (REQ-NORTHCOM) headquarters. This complex was the exclusive supplemental element of the defense network linked directly to the Royal Equestrian Department of Defense HQ in Canterlot.

A mix of pony and human technicians and other enlisted personnel filled the congested command center, scattered around various consoles and other designated locations. An array of giant monitors was situated forward of the cavernous room, with global maps and other readouts animating within the behemoth plasma displays. Beside them were the defense readiness indicators numbered one-through-five and appropriately color-coded by severity, with the number four highlighted in sapphire blue.

One particular pony technician at a rearmost console concentrated hard at the task that he was engaged in at the direction of Royal Equestrian Air Force General Hastings beside him. Hastings was the REQ-NORTHCOM second-in-command of the morning watch.

"Play stills thirty-five through fifty again," Hastings ordered.

The pony tech cycled through video stills on one of his console-integrated CRT monitors, repeating playbacks he had completed several times already. It was surveillance footage of the dogfight that ensued an hour ago at the Orion orbital.

"There!" Hastings declared loudly, "Pause right there!"

The tech did as ordered, freezing on a still of the unusual CRAI spacecraft mid-attack of one of the station's security fighters. It was blurry beyond comprehension of details smaller than the general fuselage shape.

"Is there any way to enhance that?"

"No," was the expert technician's immediate answer, "But I have another idea. Let me check something." He rolled over to a small shelf behind the console and grabbed a book from it, slapping it onto his console before hastily flipping through the pages. It was the latest edition of Jane's Equestrian Aerospace Recognition Guide, which he used to compare the fuselage shape on the screen with the silhouetted three-view illustrations in the book.

"Could the design be offworld?"

The tech shook his head. "I dunno, but I'm not finding anything here. It doesn't match any CRAI-manufactured fighter craft, but its tracer colors suggest its affiliation. They use a vacuum-capable reactive chemical that results in its signature red glow. We use blue LED strobes, and the Changelings and Griffons use green and yellow. It's not local, whatever it is."

"From what we know per current intelligence," Hastings added.

"What concerns me is the nature of the spacecraft itself. Look at the shape here, the size and the layout. The configuration seems to consist of mostly attitude and equipment packages, engines, weapon systems, stuff like that."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, where's the cockpit? I don't see any room for manned accommodation."

Hastings edged closer, bracing himself on the console. "You're saying this might be some kind of remotely-piloted unmanned vehicle? An RPV?"

"Possibly. But, I'm thinking it might be more than that. Like, not just an unmanned system, but a fully autonomous one. If you think about it, it would explain its combat behavior." The tech closed the book and shoved it aside, shifting focus back to the footage on the screen. "Here, look at this." He played more of the footage at normal speed. The unknown hostile chased the security fighter all around the vicinity of the orbital, relentless in its pursuit as it opened fire with its trademark CRAI-manufactured weapons.

"Talk to me," Urged Hastings.

"Just look at the maneuverability here. Look how it anticipates every move this friendly craft makes. I've never seen this kind of reaction time from ordinary pilots. Everything it does is executed like a cold calculation."

Hastings understood exactly what the tech was implying, as he stared off into metaphorical space with sudden realization. "It's an LAR... a fully robotic UCAV!"

"If I could make out the serials or insignia I might be able to check the database on global inventory, but these pictures are too garbled to extract anything. To be honest, I don't know what to do."

"I've got something here!" a voice shouted through crowds of other personnel. A human intelligence analyst staggered over to them, carrying stacks of folders in his arms that he urgently dropped onto the console. He kept one in his hands and opened it to a bookmarked page of interest. "Remember that CRAI documentation that surfaced on the GALCOM-NET a few years ago? Aerospace tech reports, archival footage, all that stuff?"

They simply nodded for him to get to the point, glancing at the folder that he singled out.

"Take a look at this," The intel analyst insisted, handing the open folder to them. "Page sixty-nine of C-Zero-Zero-Eight-Stroke-Five-Fifty-Two, Summary of Global Autonomous Systems and Field Applications."

They needed no indication of what the analyst was referring to, as one particular low-quality, photocopied image stood out to them among the others on the page, with the caption of "Fig. 7a – Proposed configuration of Mayflower Aerospace, Inc. fully-autonomous, vacuum-capable LAR since third airframe revision." The fuselage shape and layout of the apparent robotic system matched exactly was was shown on the fuzzy surveillance footage.

Hastings flipped to the folder's publication info with sudden apprehension. "My god, is this the correct date of publication?"

"According to the Chief Analyst," the lower-rank analyst responded.

"It's five years old! It only took the CRAI seven months of development and field testing of the JJ-32 Sabretooth, and an additional year to fill inventory requirements after mass production. Who knows how many of these LARs have been produced, right under our nose." Hastings slammed the folder onto the console. "Why wasn't anyone following this project?"

The analyst cleared his throat before answering. "Well, it was a proposal that was said to have been dismissed for an orbital bomber platform discussed later in the report. My guess is they couldn't fund it and changed their mind. The LAR system seems more cost-effective, after all."

"Or they're playing us for fools again." He turned to the pony tech still seated at his console. "Get Canterlot on the phone and get them up to speed on the situation. Inform them that the CRAI have a new spacecraft in their inventory. The joint chiefs are probably having puppies over the Orion incident already."

The tech was already in the process of dialing before Hastings could complete his sentence.

"Not to mention Celestia," The analyst added.

Hastings turned back to him. "And I want you on a shuttle to REDOD HQ in Canterlot in twenty minutes. Report your findings to them immediately. I'll call for a meeting with the Princesses before you arrive."

"Yes, sir."

"Can we be sure of their CRAI origin?" Asked Princess Celestia, seated at the far end of the long conference table in the REDOD War Room. She was accompanied by her sister by her side, Captain Shining Armor of the Royal Guard, and other various officials in designated seats, as well as the REQ-NORTHCOM intel analyst on the opposite end.

The analyst nodded. "The REQ-NORTHCOM Chief Analyst has already confirmed their CRAI origin. We think they might've been produced offworld, but we don't know where yet."

Shining Armor turned to Celestia. "Your majesty, I strongly advise that we upgrade to DEFCON Three." Others concurred with his suggestion.

"Go ahead," Approved Celestia.

A nearby READ official reached for the secure phone after a nod from Shining and dialed the Smokey Mountain Complex. "READ authorization One-One-Eight-Seven-Alpha-Zulu, increase readiness to Round House. Repeat, increase readiness to Round House. Condition Yellow." A short paused followed. "Acknowledged." He hung up and nodded to Shining that the order was successfully carried out.

Princess Luna spoke up: "What resources do we have at our disposal that aren't already on alert status?"

Shining grunted. "We might be able to reassign some outer-sector naval blockades with additional fighter support, but we'd be exposing vital strategic positions. Besides, we still don't have a proper capability assessment regarding these new drones."

Celesta sighed loudly, her uneasiness apparent and mutual with her sister. "They're getting more advanced by the day. Not even that."

Uncomfortable silence swept the room for a moment until the phone rang.

"REDOD SR-Primary," The READ official answered, "Go ahead." His eyes turned to saucers as he processed what was being informed to him on the other end. "What?! When?" All eyes were on him as he listened to the apparently alarming news. "Right, will advise." He hung up the phone and acknowledged the other officials. "A CRAI logistics carrier was just intercepted and captured seventeen minutes ago. It was en route for Gateway. Its payload consisted of several LARs, fully armed and prepped for battle. They're being sent to the Royal Aerospace Factory right now for analysis."

"Gateway?" Celestia asked with consternation. "That's a bold move."

Luna rubbed her chin, assessing the situation. "They must have a lot of faith in this new weapon system to attempt such an attack. I don't think these are trials that we're dealing with."

"Agreed," Said Shining, "They must've already field-tested them beforehand. Good Goddess..."

"How many did they find?" Celestia asked.

The READ official wetted his lips before answering. "Thirty units, your majesty."

"Thirty?!" The two princesses spoke in unison.

"Thirty... production models it seems."

"It's true then," Shining started, "They aren't prototypes. Not in that large of a number. Your highness, this situation is a lot more dire than I expected. I don't think we have enough fleet support to repel an invasion force. Even with Changeling or Griffon fleets at our disposal."

"Dear sister," Luna turned to Celestia, "We made need to go to DEFCON Two and prep the planet-busters. It's the only option we have at this point."

The intel analyst raised his hand. "Umm, I-..." He stammered and lowered it back down. "I-I think I have an alternative."

"Please," Celestia insisted, "We're all ears."

He cleared his throat. "What if we reactivate the old Sirius-Six-Eight fleets under Lunar Guard Captain Sterling's Royal Trials Division?"

Shining Armor scoffed at the idea. "Those old rust cans? Gimmie a break."

"Listen, two of those carrier starships are 125th supervessels. The Dreadnaught and the Stonebreaker. We can retrofit them and companion vessels with modified systems developed by the Royal Aerospace Factory, the one at Fort Arsenberg at Sirius-Six-Eight. Captain Mead's been pressuring us to the recommission the Dreadnaught for years anyway, we might as well grant his wishes."

"What about fighter support?"

"Same thing. We can send the Fort Arsenberg factory all the specs on these LARs straight from the Equestrian labs via the GALCOM-NET encrypted channels, and have them modify available FB-82s in accordance with their capabilities."

Celesta pursed her lips. "We need good pilots too, don't we?"

"I already have a list of candidates. We can ship them out to Sirius-Six-Eight along with additional deck fighters on the Arsenberg vessels within the hour."

"How long will this endeavor take before we can achieve full combat readiness?"

"Well, that depend-..." He stopped short, realizing that anything other than absolutes would likely occlude his proposal. "Forty-eight hours. READ can have all defense networks on standby until then."

Celestia nodded in agreement. "Very well, make it so. I'll contact the Fort Arsenberg factory myself and get them up to speed. Luna, I want you and Captain Armor to coordinate the reassignment detail. Have the required spacecraft pulled out of drydock and sent to the Gateway maintenance docks immediately."

They nodded and promptly left the room.

"And you," She turned to the analyst, "Report back to REQ-NORTHCOM and advise as the situation unfolds. Update us with any new developments, major or minor, it doesn't matter."

He got up and compiled his folders and paperwork before leaving. "Yes, your majesty."

A thought crossed her mind just as he headed for the door. "Wait a minute, please!"

He halted and turned to her, dropping a few papers as a result of his clumsily abrupt action. "Yes, your majesty?"

"Who were the two pilots that first engaged the CRAI drones at Orion and where are they now?"

He rushed over to the table and dropped his pile of documentation onto the slick stone surface, fumbling through a lightly-crumpled folder full of dossiers. "Um... Lunar Sector Security pilots Rainbow Dash and Gilda. Rainbow's craft suffered minimal damage, but Gilda's was destroyed. Both pilots survived and are still at Orion right now, according to this."

Celestia broke into a proud smile as she heard the familiar name, then reverted back to her professional demeanor, turning to the READ official. "Get a hold of Orion. I want to speak with their commanding officer ASAP."

Rainbow Dash and her maintenance crew thoroughly examined the streaked and battered hull of her fighter, aghast at various burn marks and impact points near the engines and other vital components.

"Three AP punctures near your oil-cooler," One of the engineers reported.

She got closer to where he was located. "Where?"

He pointed to three jagged holes in the ballistics paneling that protected her powerplant.

"Celesta damn it... I didn't even detect those!"

"You sure you ran a diagnostics check on your software before take-off?"

"Of course I did! I didn't even hear the impacts through the airframe!"

"You didn't feel any vibrations?"

She sighed, turning to walk away from the depressing sight. "No, just the grav-pistons stabilizing the cockpit. As usual."

"You need to upgrade your grav systems, Dash. How many times do I have to tell you that? You're using outdated hardware that-..."

She turned around sharply to confront him. "I know, I know! Fuck, how many times do I have to explain it to you? The new grav systems are too disorienting! I lose coherence when banking above five-hundred knots."

"You have to let your body adapt to it, Dash!"

"Look, maybe it works for your human physiology, but for ponies its a fucking hindrance! I don't have time to work with these upgrades when I'm busy shaking CRAI off my ass!"

He raised his hands in surrender and proceeded with the task at hand.

"Just find out why my damage-report system malfunctioned. Is that too much to ask?"

"Rainbow Dash!" Someone called out from across the cluttered maintenance section of the hangar bay. It was a young station guard from operations rushing over to her. "Captain Butes wants to see you in his office right away."

Aw, horseapples.

The corridors to the operations section of the station were dark and labyrinthine. Several sections were still blacked out and messy with maintenance equipment, fairings and padding yet to be installed on various opened panels, exposing the inner workings that were jammed with circuitry and conduits. The air was thick with smoke from welding machinery being used to mend the still incomplete orbital.

Dash coughed and waved it away as she tried to ignore the noxious smell and bitter flavor of hot metal particles floating in the air, occasionally shielding her eyes from the bright blue arclights. It certainly did not help matters that some of the engineers were also smoking while engaged in their work.

Once she arrived at the hatch door to Captain Butes' office, she was greeted by a familiar griffon seated on a bench just to the right of it, giving the whimsical impression of a school child waiting to see the principal.

"Dash," Gilda shouted, "There you are!"

"'Sup, G? What does the old man want?"

"I dunno, he's still in there with an STC guy. Told me to wait here 'till they're done."

"Probably about me ditching my externals."

"Could be. I just know that if you didn't, we'd both be toast. It was a sweet move if you ask me."

She grinned at her friend's encouragement, then shifted her attention to the door as it opened to make way for a disgruntled human traffic controller. He stormed past them and briskly disappeared behind a bend in the smoke-filled corridor, leaving the door open behind him. She could faintly hear irate mutterings about deserting his post or something to that effect before he was gone completely.

"Get in here, you two!" Butes yelled from inside the room.

They did as ordered, closing the door behind them and stood at attention before their superior officer. His desk and other surfaces were a mess of seemingly unorganized papers and digital tablets that made his office look as if a JDAM struck his filing system.

"What the hell kind of a circus act was that you pulled out there today?" He squalled with a paper held firmly in his hand. "This is Lunar Sector Security, not the goddamned Wonderbolts!"

Dash looked to Gilda for a moment, then back to him. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Then maybe you'll find it easier to follow this F-Com log." He referred to the paper he was holding and proceeded to read the text aloud for them. "82-degree roll at 4.5 meters proximity to target prior to closure of its overshot trajectory. Weapons hot while friendly spacecraft was within line of fire. Auxiliary fuel reserves jettisoned." He glanced up to them for a moment to add a comment: "Which is a helluva waste of expensive fuel just to neutralize one hostile spacecraft!" Back to the paper. "Furthermore, capture and recovery of friendly escape pod at six meters from collision course with an STC control spire on the station's surface."

The two pilots grimaced as he slapped the paper onto his desk in reddened fury, a large vein now visible on his forehead.

"You are not a SAR pilot! We already had emergency shuttlecraft dispatched to her location as soon as her beacon went active! Your little rescue stunt put the both of you and a 77.6 billion bit spacecraft in danger. Not to mention the physical integrity of Orion, which already took a beating from your stray shots."

Dash stepped forward in her own defense. "I had no choice! She was in a dead spin without attitude control. Those Bug shuttles wouldn't have made it in time considering the velocity she was at."

"You do realize you were closer to Bingo after cutting your reserves, right?"

"Look, I made a judgment call that I have no problem repeating given the opportunity! I had a friend in danger. Another good pilot, I might add, sir."

"Your concern for your friend and fellow pilot is irrelevant to jeopardizing expensive Lunar Security property. It was a foolish risk as I could've lost two good pilots today!"

Gilda shot him an enraged look to meet his own.

"On the other hand, it looks like I'm losing one good pilot today after all."

Gilda finally spoke up. "Wait a minute, that's not fair! What gives you the right to discharge her from security service when she-..."

"She's not being discharged, now shut up and listen!"

She turned away before the conversation could become further heated.

Butes picked up another piece of paper before he continued. "Brace yourself for this one, Dash. It seems your stunt's caught the attention of top brass at the 125th. That's right... Battlewings."

Rainbow's heart skipped a beat, with Gilda equally shocked as she turned back around to face the commanding officer.

"According to this they're impressed with how you handled the situation. To further emphasize the fact, Princess Celestia herself got a hold of me an hour ago. She wants you to report to Gateway at oh-six-hundred tomorrow for reassignment."

Dash was flabbergasted at the news as she struggled to gather her thoughts before responding. "I-.. I dunno what to say. The 125th wants me?"

"I'm about as shocked as you are."

Her critical thought returned as she glanced over to her friend beside her. "What about Gilda?"

Butes shook his head. "Just you."

Gilda snorted, obviously hiding her disappointment. "They couldn't handle a rebel like me anyway."

Rainbow took a deep, assertive breath. "I'm not going unless she can."

"These orders are specific, Dash," Butes insisted, "Celestia wants you, and only you."

“I don't even have time to think about this?”

Gilda turned to her with reassurance. "It's okay, Dash. Really. I want you to do this. You earned it."

Dash met her gaze. "Gilda, are you sure?"

She nodded with a smile. "Yeah. Give 'em hell for me."

"I will." She reciprocated a smile of her own. "Guess I'll see ya 'round, huh?"

Butes put the paper down. "Just one more thing before you go..."

Dash turned to him with her smile fading, brushing her long and tangled mane out of her face.

"Get a haircut."

Chapter 4

Ponyville retained somewhat of its quaint characteristics of a small country town unlike other Equestrian locations. The only difference being the inhabitants and the technology that coexisted between the two, as well as a major highway connecting the town with Canterlot and other places.

Humans and ponies swarmed on foot and in vehicles congesting the streets or flying in the air. It was a major contrast to the natural beauty that surrounded the location.

Rainbow Dash cruised one of the Ponyville bystreets in her Sunchaser Transports Model 92 convertible aerocar, wearing a vintage bomber jacket and aviator sunglasses. Her stereo was on, blasting a local station of human music that could be heard over the wind blowing in her hair as the roof lay folded to the rear of the vehicle.

She arrived at her destination, the Castle of Friendship, home of her friend and Princess of Friendship Twilight Sparkle. Upon exiting the vehicle she looked over the structure before approaching. The crystalline tree that made up the castle's form was merged into a web of machines and conduits linking to various things, its whimsical nature corrupted by a tight grasp of technology.

She remembered how it looked before, regal and enchanting, not unlike the Crystal Empire or even Canterlot itself. A positive representation of harmony. She reminded herself that it still was, but the feeling that once radiated from it was not the same.

Dash pushed a button near a small CRT display next to the door and waited for a response.

"Hello?" Twilight answered, her image fading onto the screen. "Rainbow! Long time no see!"

"Hey, Twi, what's up?"

"Come on in! I'll be down in a sec." Her image flashed to a frame of static before the screen shut off.

A loud buzz came from the door as it opened, the result of a security system that had been installed into the castle's network. Rainbow entered with the door automatically closing behind.

Twilight Sparkle descended down a large staircase to the side of the smooth, luminescent lobby, eyes wide with glee as she approached her old friend.

"It's so good to see you!" Twilight exclaimed merrily, pulling Dash into a hug that was reciprocated with equal delight.

"You too."

They finally parted and headed for a table with a couple of chairs near a large window, giving them a breathtaking view of the Equestrian plains and Ponyville.

"Sorry," Twilight started, "I was reorganizing the upstairs library. I had to dodge a lot of clutter to get down here."

Dash snorted. Typical Twilight, always organizing and reorganizing. "It's alright."

"Do you want something to drink?"

"Nah, I filled up on Racecolt on the way here. Thanks, though."

Twilight tsked with a shake of her head in disapproval. "You should really stop drinking that stuff. I read a study that said equine energy drinks like that can cause anxiety, irritability, bladder infections, and a lot of other health problems."

Dash shrugged, finally taking off her glasses and clipping them to her jacket. "I'll be fine."

"If you say so. So, hey, how've you been? I heard there was an attack on Orion! I was so worried."

"Yeah, it was... Interesting, to say the least."

Twilight furrowed her brow. "'Interesting?'"

"It was just another suicide squad showing off their micro-nads again, like all the others. But I dunno... something about these ones just-..." She shrugged again, at a loss of how to describe the feeling she had when referring to the mysterious CRAI spacecraft. "Gilda's ship was eaten alive before she punched out. Even I almost bought the farm until I ditched my auxiliaries. These guys were aces."

Twilight put her hoof on Rainbow's across the table for reassurance. "Well, not nearly as much as you two. You were the ones that made it out, after all... Right?"

"I guess that's one way of looking at it."

"You'll be fine. Don't let a rough experience bring you down."

"I'm not that upset about it, honestly. It could've been worse." She sank into a frown as she glanced through the window.

"What else is bothering you?"

She hesitated before turning back to answer. "I was assigned to the 125th today, Twi."

Twilight gasped exuberantly, reaffirming her hold on Rainbow's hoof. "Battlewings? That's great news! Congratulations!" She was about to say something else but held back, her cheerful expression fading to concern as she noticed her friend's indifference. "You don't seem very enthused."

Dash retracted her hoof away from the table. "I am, it's just... I don't know how long I'll be gone. I don't even know where I'm going to be stationed. Probably somewhere off in Vega Sector or something. I don't know when I'll see you guys again. I don't know when I'll be back, you know?"

Twilight responded with a comforting smile. "Oh, Dash, you don't have to worry about that. It's not like we'll forget each other. Just think of us no matter where you go. We'll always be there for you. And besides, there's a such thing as a videophone."

Dash grinned at her playful sarcasm.

"Even if it does take days to send transmissions across, but still. Speaking of which, it would've been nice for you to respond to some of my messages I sent you last month."

She remembered the messages that she was referring to, feeling guilty for leaving them unviewed on her terminal back at Orion. "Yeah, sorry about that. Lunar Security's been rough lately, so I kinda forgot."

"It's okay, don't worry about it. You're here now and that's even better."

"Yeah, definitely."

"So when do you ship out?"

"Oh-six-hundred tomorrow I have to report to Gateway."

"Gosh, so soon? Well, hey, you're more than welcome to stay the night here until then."

"Thanks, but there's some things I've got to do at the flat. Packing and all that. I already got my stuff from Orion but there's some things left in Canterlot."

"Okay. Well, can you at least stick around evening time? Me and the girls are having a movie night. I'm sure they'd love to see you again."

"Sure. I'd love that too. What's playing?"

"Some old human movie about a guy that hunts androids and falls in love with one. I heard that the version I have is considered a masterpiece."

"That sounds awesome. Count me in."

"Great! I'll let everypony know you're here."

The evening sunset was almost nonexistent as thick storm clouds had rolled in from the west, most likely originating from Canterlot. Light rains had slickened the paved streets to reflect streetlights and residential windows. Traffic on the ground and in the sky had decreased to individuals with important destinations, as most drivers had little desire to be caught in a potential storm.

Rainbow Dash was one of the unlucky few to not have much of a choice in the matter as she pressed onward to Canterlot, her roof now sealing the vehicle's interior from the dreary weather. Her windshield wipers engaged automatically, repeatedly clearing away the droplets that distorted her perspective of the darkened highway.

The weather perfectly matched her emotion as she thought back to the movie screening with her friends. It was a slow movie, a kind of film that rarely piqued her interest, but this one struck a chord with her. She basked in the memory of it with brooding revalation of its message. She was reminded of the lamenting monologue by the android at the end of the movie, how it conveyed to her the preciousness of life itself.

Even stronger in her memory were the goodbyes of her friends as she left the small social gathering. She had to remind herself that they were not truly goodbyes, as she had promised for them to see each other soon, but it still did not make it any less difficult for her. She was part of an important mission now, to protect her friends and loved ones here on Equestria, and she would make sure that every moment that she was away be worth it in the end.

Dash was so lost in thought that she had forgotten to activate the glare sensors for her windshield, almost becoming blinded by the bright highbeams of a vehicle on the opposite lane. Upon flipping the appropriate switch, several bright light sources were reduced by darkened color gradients that tracked their motion relative to the driver's line of sight, but without obstructing view of anything else under the intensity limit programmed into the software.

Similar "smart glass" sensor packages were also integrated into the polyglass windows on most spacecraft, though with added ultraviolet protection filters to block radiation, as the lack of atmosphere in the vacuum intensified the risk of exposure.

A vectored terrain map on her dashboard indicated that she was close to the city, but she dreaded the idea of confronting the congested city traffic. Her usual remedy for the situation was converting to aerial mode, which she did with a swift click of the controls on her steering wheel.

Small thrusters spewed bright jets of clouds from the undercarriage, generating lift for the sleek aerocar as fender panels covered the wheels retracting inside. Engine outlets to the rear blasted to life, emitting a bright blue glow as they propelled the craft towards its destination. Dash was sure to turn on the anti-collision lights per safety requirements for piloting at night.

She ascended over a hill beyond a curve in the highway, revealing to her the vast metropolis that was Canterlot, a city of cybernetic and industrial sustenance that spread further than the iconic hillside castle that accomodated the rulers of their land. Tall smoke stacks towered over the machine-laden megastructures of businesses and residential skyscrapers, erupting flaming black clouds into the already darkened atmosphere.

To her surprise there was very little air traffic around the city, unlike the convoluted streets below that shimmered like phosphorescent cells swimming in a network of veins. Only a few anti-collision lights of other aerocars could be seen flashing through the torrents of rainfall and smog.

A flashing red light on her dashboard control panel indicated that she was within range of the homing beacon for her apartment building, which she activated to allow her vehicle's autopilot to guide her straight to the upper garage level.

The door to Rainbow's apartment slid open with a loud, pressurized hiss that startled her out of a deep course of thought. Her musings were forced aside as she entered, heading straight for the kitchen, with the door closing automatically behind. She threw her keycard into a pile of papers on the table and flung her refrigerator door open, fetching a bottle of hard liquor.

Automated lights guided her journey towards the living room, though the bulbs inside were dimming with age, casting the messy room in an eerie tinge. She edged closer to a window overlooking the gothic cityscape, watching the droplets drizzle down the glazed pane, imposing themselves over her perspective of several animated advertisements situated on a distant structure.

An aerocar hightailed past her building with its stereo on full blast, being pursued by a police interceptor with its lights flashing and siren blaring. She snickered with amusement at the random sight, taking a drink and looking down at the people and ground vehicles below. Ponies and humans alike all protected themselves from the rain as they held umbrellas and newspapers over their heads, with some unfortunate characters being splashed by carefree drivers.

Her idle entertainment dissolved as she looked down at her belongings spread about the top of a dresser situated in front of the window. She spotted a grayscale photograph behind her digital clock, worn and faded. Picking it up, she realized that it was of her and her friends in Ponyville. She smiled with nostalgia as she remembered when it was taken. It was a time that felt so long ago to her now, a time long before the humans. A happier time when harmony showed its true colors no matter what threats Equestria faced.

Once again her peace of mind returned to present time reality, matching the gloom of her surroundings as she took another drink. It was already ten o'clock and she had lots of packing to do before retiring to her disheveled bed for the night.

The Arsenberg-destined starships of the 125th and other naval vessels were woefully behind schedule upon arrival to the Gateway station drydocks, with only half of them fully prepared for travel to Sirius-68. The Lunar Guard Royal Trials Division spacecraft were the only ones close to being ready, having been refurbished to a point that would get them to their destination without hostile confrontation.

READ maintained a readiness level of three, despite other confrontations that had arisen since the proposal was made to recommission the old trials spacecraft. They were still no indicators of a full on invasion force, however the surface defense networks remained on standby for when that possibility materializes.

Orion's companion station Grue was attacked just like the former, with a small squad of LARs attempting to penetrate the Lunar defenses, but were quickly defeated by the early warning systems incorporated into the orbital base as it relayed target information straight to REQ-NORTHCOM in real-time.

Other incidents included CRAI fast-attack corvettes posing as civilian starliners jamming the early warning networks at other offworld locations, while others attempted to raid ore transport vessels departing mineral-rich sectors in the Gmork Asteroid Belt.

More and more of these mysterious robotic craft were surfacing wherever CRAI was present, and little information had been gathered from the captured units so far. Much of the data on the onboard computers were individually encrypted, consuming valuable time for the research divisions of the Royal Aerospace Factory to study the advanced systems and relay findings to the Fort Arsenberg branch.

What had been learned so far was enough to retrofit Sirius-68 spacecraft in such a way that their FTL journey to the secret base would be unmolested until they received proper modification, or so everyone hoped.

Chapter 5

"Level us off," Captain Strydom ordered to the helmsperson so that their orientation in the three-dimensional space matched the course logged into the nav-computer. "Maintain heading for the Westwind Quasar at 700 knots."

A Changeling manning the navigational station executed the order. "Aye, Captain. Course laid in, speed 700 knots."

"Right." The human female CO spoke with a thick South African accent, her blonde hair tied off to the back to prevent it from obstructing her vision. She commanded the 125th Viking-class destroyer RES Cully, departing the Alnitak-95 drydocks for Gateway back at the New Sol-Sector, as the system was called among human space travelers.

Most people that have forgotten their lost origin system of the Solar Sector had referred to the Equestrian system by that name, as they both shared uncanny similarities.

The Westwind Quasar was a common point of reference between deep-space locations in the Barnard 33 neighborhood and the Sol-Sector, as it prevented seamless FTL travel. Flying into an unstable celestial body was inadvisable at any speed, which dictated the practice of stopping short to its approximate sector and rerouting course around the quasar to continue the journey.

Strydom's Executive Officer stood close to her, leaning on a support structure at the center of the windowless bridge. He was a pegasus pony with regular Royal Equestrian Navy experience, judging by the service insignia on his uniform accompanying the 125th shield. "I didn't have time to ask back at A-Ninety-Five," He started to the Captain, "But what sort of upgrades are we supposed to get at Gateway?"

Strydom scratched the back of her neck and turned to the pony XO. "Fiber-optic combat systems and uprated vacuum drive. We're supposed to receive updated nav-packages and VI interfaces when we get to Sirius-68."

He whistled in wonderment. "Quite a change from REN dummy ships."

"That's an understatement if I ever heard one," She agreed.

REN perimeter vessels with basic navigation and combat systems were referred to as "dummy ships" due to their limited capability in contrast to more modernized spacecraft that are an Equestrian Navy standard. They are most uncommon in 125th service.

"Cut main engines and engage Light Drive on my command."

"Aye," The Changeling at the helm acknowledged and did as ordered, "Shutting down vacuum drive. Powering up FTL reactor core."

A small klaxon sounded near the control area, with the human Radar Technician checking various readings on his console. "Conn, Radar," He reported, "Anomaly detected in our quadrant."

"Radar, Conn," The XO responded, "Can you specify?"

"Conn, Radar, negative."

"Slow one-third," Strydom commanded, "Clear the baffles, sixty-degrees starboard."

The Changeling helmsperson was prompt in carrying out the command, rerouting the course into the nav-computer. "Aye, slowing one-third, clearing baffles at sixty starboard."

"Radar, Conn," The XO hailed to the control area, "Clearing baffles to the right."

"Conn, Radar, clearing baffles to the right, aye."

The spacecraft slowed and turned hard on its Y-axis, allowing the sensor systems to track electronic or thermal signatures hiding in the ship's wake, as the direct rear was a notorious blind spot programmed into the software due to the engine area confusing the equipment.

"Can't be CRAI," The XO voiced his thoughts out loud, "They wouldn't operate this far from the outer colonies. Probably a solar microflare."

The Radar Tech scanned his readouts thoroughly as the dead space became clear, stopping at a blip on the radar screen, translating to an artificial object in alarmingly close proximity. "Conn, Radar, TEM transient bearing zero-two-five at 500 knots."

"Rig for red," Strydom ordered, "Maintain heading."

All of the bright white fluorescent lights that illuminated the bridge were shut off and replaced by a dim red light that aided the crew's vision in the dark quadrant, which also eliminated glare on the CRT monitors.

"Radar, Conn," The XO hailed again, "Specify contact."

"Conn, Radar, contact on intercept course, maintaining speed!"

"Can you identify it?"

"It looks like a CRAI stealth cruiser! The ESS Vanguard!"

"What are CRAI doing way out here?" Asked the Changeling.

The XO turned to the Captain, his eyes stricken with fear. "We must've detected their attitude thrust. It's a bloody miracle."

"Man battle stations!" Strydom shouted.

An alarm sounded briefly throughout the ship, with various crew rushing to their designated stations and preparing for battle. Indicators on a viewscreen nearest to the XO's location signified the readiness of each station from yellow to green.

Spikes on the Radar Tech's oscilloscope broke his attention away from the other readouts. "Conn, Radar, movement detected on their frontal quadrant. She's opening missile-bay doors, Captain!"

Strydom spun to the Changeling. "Helm, come about one-twenty!"

"120 degrees, aye."

The Cully turned to face the incoming CRAI vessel, the ESS Vanguard slowing its course in response.

"Decompress missile tubes one and two!" Strydom demanded, "Prepare to fire on my command!" Her order was acknowledged by the missile bay Fire Controlman as they exposed the missile tubes to the vacuum of space. "Get me a firing solution!"

"We have their conning tower logged in the targeting computer!" The XO reported.

"Conn, Radar, missiles incoming! Time to impact, fifteen seconds!"

"Launch countermeasures!" Ordered Strydom.

Several decoy units launched from porous openings arranged in a hexagonal pattern along the ship's underside, deflecting the Vanguard's incoming missiles and detonating them as a result of the disoriented instrumentation in the warheads.

"Missiles deflected, Captain!" The Radar Tech reported.

Strydom took a strained breath before her next command. "Fire missiles one and two! Load and decompress three and four!"

Both missiles launched into space from the forward missile tubes on the Cully, heading straight for the Vanguard. They were a more advanced type than the CRAI stealth cruiser was using, moving at a much faster rate and guided by almost foolproof targeting software.

The Vanguard managed to deflect one of the missiles with its decoys, but the other impacted a large region of the conning tower at the upper midsection of the hull. The force of the explosion caused the Vanguard to tumble off course, drifting dead in the vacuum.

"It's a hit!" The Tech shouted with excitement, though brief as he detected other signatures in the vicinity. "Oh, shit... Two bogies closing in, they're UCAVs! Coming straight from the Vanguard!"

The XO shook his head with confusion. "A stealth cruiser was carrying LARs?!"

"Finish her off!" Strydom almost screamed.

The third and fourth missiles were launched, destroying the Vanguard completely in a brilliant blast that resulted in a nova ring from the reactor being hit. To everyone's surprise, the LARs that headed for the Cully powered down, their velocity unchanged as they headed for empty space beyond the destroyer.

The Tech was in shock as he viewed the readouts. "They're deactivated."

The XO leaned against the support structure again, joining the rest of the crew in relief. "They must have a direct link with their companion vessels in order to operate correctly. That means they can't operate in deep space without a carrier nearby."

"Just like real pilots," Strydom remarked with a smile. "Fort Arsenberg is gonna love this report."

The XO laughed. "Giving the G4 nerds bionic boners since 2237!"

Another klaxon sounded in the control area, startling the watch out of their alleviation.

"Conn, Radar, new contact bearing zero-nine-zero at 800 knots and closing!"

"Hard to starboard!" Strydom shouted to the Changeling.

He acknowledged the order verbatim and proceeded to change course.

The XO ran to the Tech's console. "Another one?! Can you ID it?"

Another signature coming from the already discovered blip distracted him from answering the XO. "Missiles in the black! Missiles in the black! Time to impact... Oh Jesus, ten seconds!"

"Launch countermeasures!" Strydom ordered in desperation.

"Too late!" The XO yelled, "Brace for impact!"

Two missiles impacted the hull of the destroyer, decimating the entire lower half of the spacecraft. Compromised decks were purged of atmosphere in a powerful blowout, as several crewmen were sucked into space with pieces of the spacecraft scattering into oblivion. Two more missiles launched from the unknown and unseen vessel, obliterating the Cully completely.

Captain Mead hunched over a table in the Drydock 89 lobby of Gateway, examining documents on a digital tablet. He was reading reports on the Sirius-68 bound vessels, stopping at the status indicators that stated that some of them were destroyed or missing. Nine... Nine ships already. I hope I'm not flying twenty-thousand souls to their deaths today. As proud as he was that his idolized Athena-class supercarrier was finally in a recommissioned status, the reports eclipsed his joy with apprehension that he hoped did not cloud his judgement.

He was brisk and healthy for his age of 62, though his leathery face with unkempt, gray beard, and tired eyes gave a contradictory impression. His appearance was that of a stereotypical salty sea captain, which he embraced as he amusingly associated the analogous personality traits of his own.

Mead had been in the human Navy for as long as he could remember. He remembered fondly the early days of becoming an officer, commanding his own vessel for the first time, the ESS Portland, a Challenger-class frigate. They were different times, as the Earth starship prefix meant something entirely different to everyone.

Mankind had a benevolent interest in reaching the stars, no matter what conflicts emerged to challenge their integrity. Now they fly a different prefix to signify an alliance. They were Royal Equestrian starships now, and others that belonged to the antagonistic coalition that resisted in present times retained the old system, tainting its meaning like the ancient Axis did with the once peaceful image of a waterwheel swastika.

"The new recruits are arriving in ten minutes," Commander Gregory reported to the captain.

Commander Gregory was the captain's executive officer aboard the RES Dreadnaught. He was a much younger officer than Mead, with equally less experience in naval warfare. His record serving on the now decommissioned ESS Ajax, however, was enough to promote him to 125th service aboard the Dreadnaught. He was with Mead since it was decommissioned twenty years ago and joined him in the melancholy of the event. He even sported a similar beard, but better groomed and lacking of silver strands in the rough blackness.

"Very well," Mead responded to the anxious XO, "Go meet them at the terminal and bring them here."

"Aye, Captain." He saluted his CO before leaving.

Mead returned to the tablet, reading the crew manifests of the ships that were lost to CRAI attacks. So far none of them were recognizable, but it still invoked a sense of grief to lose such valued members of the fleet. Then he came across the RES Cully.

For the first time in REN service he gasped out loud at a report about a lost ship, raising his hand to cover his mouth. His mind struggled to digest the cold blue text with a pit in his stomach. He had known Captain Strydom since the pilgrimage to Equestria. She was his warrant officer for three years before finally acquiring command of her own vessel. She had been under his wing like a family of father and daughter. His entire crew always felt like a family to him, and to lose a member that he had been so close to in the past nearly gutted him.

He tossed the tablet onto the table and leaned forward in his seat, covering his uncontrollably watering eyes. This war was going to be long and painful, and this was just the beginning.

"Aria viziata!" A human passenger shouted in Italian from within a crowd of people and ponies disembarking from the shuttle, "My old friend, we meet again!"

A gruff pony by his side gave him a look of perplexion. "Really? Praising the station atmospherics? You've been stuck in way too many AMRs."

"Ah, mio amico, you know nothing of what makes real Battlewings soldiers. Reactor fumes, the shock of bare control nodes, banquets of death pillows... Ahhh..."

His pony counterpart snorted. "You're delusional."

Chief Engineer Alessi was part of the old Dreadnaught crew, having known every gear and circuit in the aft region of the ship as if it was an extension of himself. He knew the ship almost as well as the man who commanded it, and always pulled through when something went wrong. It was no surprise that Captain Mead personally requested his transfer back to the old supercarrier.

The same could be said of Electro-technical Officer Onyx, though a fresh addition to this particular family. He and Alessi both served on the RES Renovatio before being transferred back, the Italian engineer having taken a liking to the well-experienced ETO. He admired his meticulous attention to the technical nature of starship propulsion systems and limitless problem solving potential, which Alessi and Mead both agreed were skill sets most desired on the 125th vessel.

Though they bickered like an old married couple, unconventional to their rank hierarchy, their companionship was undeniable and true. Trust was important on board any naval spacecraft, and trust was definitely had between the two engineers. No matter how much they got on each other's nerves at times.

"What do you think of the fresh meat?" Asked Onyx.

Alessi shrugged, shifting the heavy duffel bag slung to his back. "Eh, they look okay. Hope they can last."

"Freshies like them rarely do. That one with the rainbow hair won't last a single tour."

Alessi snorted in agreement. "At least they won't get lonely here. You know how it is... a thousand spacers ship out, five-hundred couples come back!"

"Oh, for Celestia's sake..."

Chapter 6

Rainbow Dash stood in a row of other new recruits to the Dreadnaught, all facing a window forward of a large elevator platform descending to the docking sleeve connecting Gateway to the ship. Commander Gregory accompanied the group, having welcomed them to the station after they disembarked the shuttle.

She recalled the trip to the massive spinwheel-type orbital hub, questioning her presence among such an elite alliance during the entire journey there. Up to this point she had pondered Celestia's wishes for a civilian security pilot to be part of a 125th crew, but upon inspection of the other pilots by her side, they too were originally civilians. Some were Lunar Sector Security like Rainbow, others were Sol Sector Security, some were even from the outer colonies in the Sol system and beyond.

It was almost like a draft situation, though she had also come to realize that the recruits had the option to back out. Their reluctance to do so was understandable. To refuse promotion to military service in Battlewings was unheard of, despite many individuals washing out for cracking under the pressure. The 125th had a reputation to uphold, after all.

"She may be over a hundred years old," Gregory continued his speech about the supervessel that he had started back in the lobby, "But make no mistake, the Athena class is legendary in its performance history. Both the Dreadnaught and the Stonebreaker are regular topics of conversation among my generation of naval officers. You'll understand why."

"Excuse me, sir," One of the pilots spoke up, "How many crew members are there on board the Dreadnaught? I mean, how many are stationed?"

"The Athena class has a standard operating capacity of ten-thousand. However, in wartime the number is doubled to twenty-thousand. That would be the case here."

Mumbles among the group expressed their astonishment. Dash imagined scrolling through the crew roster, snorting with amusement as to how much of an adventure such a task would be in itself.

"I should clarify that the other half of our crew compliment awaits us at Sirius-Six-Eight. You'll be briefed on the situation once we're underway." He took a pause as he glanced towards the window. "She should be in view any moment now."

The curious group of pilots watched with anticipation as beams and engineering structures passed by the glass until they finally reached the maintenance dock where the Dreadnaught was stationed. Gasps and more mumbles of conversation filled the airtight platform as the massive starship ascended into view, surpassing every one of their expectations. Rainbow Dash, though, was among those that were most speechless, staring ahead as they digested the incredible sight.

Its mass was that of a space station on its own, like an island city born to the dark abyss. It was no wonder that it had been transferred to one of the largest drydocks in the station. Somewhere the RES Stonebreaker was docked at the other one. It was an engineering marvel that only its aforementioned counterpart could measure up to. Not even naval aircraft carriers on the surface of Equestria matched this behemoth construction.

Dash counted thirty defensive guns along the upper port side alone, another twenty-five towards the bottom half, mostly 125mm. The conning tower at the upper midsection looked about the size of an Andromeda-class battleship, just slightly smaller than Canterlot Castle. Massive sensor arrays cluttered the upper deck in between the 406mm main batteries, with some of the dish structures appearing similar in design to most radio telescopes found back on Equestria.

The engine section alone warranted attention, with two colossal outlets protruding from the complex powerhouse with what appeared to be thrust-vector panels attached to the edges on controlled hinges. They seemed to be connected to other smaller outlets along the hull, indicating that they belonged to both the vacuum drive and the FTL "Light Drive."

Just above the stern, forward of the engineering section and directly behind the umbilicus port that secured the ship to the station's dock, was what appeared to be the hangar bay. Dash came to this conclusion upon noticing two large sliding doors accessing that particular section, far larger than any other supposed doorway that she could spot on the mechanically-intricate supervessel.

The smaller doors that lined in rows along the side like that of viewports were most likely firing tubes belonging to the missile bay. Now that she had a more comprehensive look, she noticed similar doors to the aft section, just below the main thruster outlets. She imagined that the main tubes would be at the bow, like on any other military starship. Not to mention it would be an appropriate location for the retrograde thruster ports for reversing the ship, which she pictured being at least half the size of those at the rear.

"She's been under heavy refurbishment," Gregory finally returned to his speech as they neared the docking sleeve, "And we've been on an extremely tight schedule in doing so, but it was necessary for getting underway for Sirius-68. It's there at the Fort Arsenberg jurisdiction of the Royal Aerospace Factory that she'll receive her full upgrade package.

"She was decommissioned about twenty years ago and was just pulled out of drydock yesterday. Took them long enough... Captain Mead's been requesting her return to active duty for about as long as she'd been sitting at the Almahni shipyards. Almost got scrapped a few times if it wasn't for him."

A loud "clang" echoed through the structure of the platform as they reached the docking sleeve, vibrating through the slip-resistant metal. The elevator converted to a tram system that moved along a central rail at the ceiling of the docking sleeve, advancing the group towards the Dreadnaught. Other tram modules on each side were also moving towards the vessel at varrying lengths apart from each other, appearing to carry additional crew.

Dash looked to the starship again, noticing the "RES Dreadnaught" and serial stencilling towards the bow section, lit with bright incandescent strobes. The whole ship was covered in light sources in one form or another. Some were maintenance lights, others were anti-collision strobes, and the rest were from within the vessel, glaring through thousands of polyglass viewports like the glittering brilliance of a midnight cityscape.

The drydock was filled with maintenance traffic, engineers and station personnel teaming around the ship's structures as they prepared the vessel for active use. Utility skiffs and shuttlecraft floated and zoomed around to various locations, retrieving supplies or personnel and transporting them to designated locations.

Gregory cleared his throat. "Once we're on board you'll notice an internal tram and lift system just like this one, except a little faster. Makes travel throughout the ship more convenient."

Rainbow Dash agreed internally at that remark. On a ship this size? No shit.

"Captain on deck!" Command Senior Chief (CSC) Commander Koroma announced to the bridge crew, arousing their attention as they ceased their activity and stood in almost perfect synchronization to face their CO.

Captain Mead looked around for a moment before declaring that he had the Conn, meaning that he was now present to command the ship. Everything looked the same except for some upgraded navigation equipment. He took a moment to observe his crew as well, noticing some familiar faces.

CSC Koroma was one of them, smiling as she met his gaze. "Welcome back, sir." She said with genuine esteem. She was about Gregory's age, with a dark complexion of Guinean-American heritage that complimented her brown eyes and short, black hair.

"Welcome back, Captain!" Another shipmate called from the control area. It was the Radar Technician, Petty Officer 1st Class McKelvy, standing by his vertical mapper with a huge grin. Mead remembered when his British E-6 grade RTS was just an E-4 twenty years ago, proud to see that he had been promoted to such a higher grade since then.

Nearest to him was Quartermaster Lowther at the helm, also appearing to have been promoted to E-6 since serving on Mead's vessel as an E-5, or Petty Officer 2nd Class. He was the only one in the room not wearing a smile, being the most steely member of the bridge crew, but the captain knew that he was internally grateful for his return to the 125th vessel.

"As you were, guys." Eyes were still on him occasionally as they stood at ease, proceeding with their prearranged duties. "I have to say, it's so nice to see the old girl again. As well as the rest of you. I couldn't have asked for a finer crew than the ones I know best from the good old days. Please allow me to also officially welcome you all back to the RES Dreadnaught."

They each thanked him for his generous greeting, the sentimentality apparent in their tone as they appreciated their transfer back to the supercarrier they knew well.

It was an iron horse of the stars that helped reach further than any space captain could dream of, survived conflicts greater than that which resulted in the destruction of the old Sol System, a vessel that Mead entrusted with his life as he would his fellow crew. It was a part of his essence, a bond forged only in the vastness of space and time.

He took closer notice of the upgraded systems and approached a control console next to a large viewport. Curious as to how it worked, he tapped a command into the touch-sensitive CRT screen, exploring the comprehensive virtual user interface.

Koroma noticed his enthusiasm and braced against a nearby support structure at the center of the bridge to observe his operation of the console. "I trust you approve of our new systems?"

"I sure do," Was the captain's excited reply, "What is this, fiber-optic based?"

"Yep. It's equipped with a virtual intelligence we call Overscan."

He laughed at the VI's name. "That's interesting, what's it useful for?"

"He cuts the workload of other crew. Automated diagnostics, complex nav calculations, you name it."

"Can he help me find the head, or is that still in the same place I left it?"

Koroma snorted. "It's still the same ship, just a little more up to date. Overscan is more for the recruits' benefit rather than our own. It's a big ship, don't want anyone getting lost and accidentally mistaking an airlock for a storage locker."

"Yeah, true." He continued his investigation of the new systems, accepting of them with keen interest and excitement for when he will get to use them in action. "Yes, this'll do nicely."

"No, no, no, no, no, no! This won't do at all!" Chief Engineer Alessi barked in jest to the engineering personnel preparing the engines.

The massive reactors towered over the cavernous compartment, like being in an aircraft hangar filled with machinery and catwalks. The turbines for the FTL drive and power core were also a daunting presence in their own right, taking up much of the space in the aft area. Temporary personnel and ship engineering crews surrounded almost every workspace.

"I can't work in these conditions!" Alessi continued as he traveled down one of the catwalks, "I require a sofa, projection TV, VR headset, beer, and busty women! Two-... No, three of them! I see nothing like that, I see bullshits like pistons and ducts everywhere! And you monkeys fucking around with my propulsion systems like you own the fucking place!"

One of the engineering techs glanced at him with a smirk. "Nice to see you too, sir."

"Ey! It's like a reunion tour! Back to the belly of the beast, eh?" He elbowed his pony ETO roughly, much to the latter's annoyance.

"I wouldn't know," Onyx replied, rubbing his sore shoulder, "It's my first time here."

"Ah, that's right! I shipped out with Rogan last time I was here. My god, has it been that long?"

"Well, let's hope I can live up to his legacy." Onyx walked over to a nearby control console, scanning the books and files on an adjacent shelf.

"Legacy?! What legacy? The guy was an asshole! Fuck him."

"Hey, all these are arranged under the file system you had back on the Renovatio."

Alessi joined him at the console. "Exactly! I set the standard for it. 'A' for 'allegedly reliable diagnostics software' and 'B' for 'bonehead-certified reactor protocols,' for example."

"What's the vacuum drive maintenance manual under?"

"'V' for 'vacuum drive,' what else? Anyway, I need to go take a shit. Be back in a minute."

Onyx sighed to himself pessimistically as the Chief Engineer exited the busy deck. "This is gonna be a long flight."

Gregory continued his tour with the group of pilots, disembarking from the ship's internal tram system. "Welcome to the flight deck. Get acquainted with it, folks, you'll be spending a lot of time here when we're underway. I need to report to the bridge... Deck Officer Jones will hail you to the briefing room in about fifteen minutes, so assemble there when he does. For now, feel free to inspect the hardware. Have fun and don't get in anyone's way." He then left for the tram system, departing from the flight deck behind a descending blast door.

The pilots observed their surroundings for a moment before parting off throughout the hangar bay, mixing with the busy personnel surrounding the spacecraft.

Rainbow's awestruck feeling for the ship remained as she approached the rows of deck fighters, sometimes looking up at the spacious construction of the hangar bay and at the individual spacecraft themselves. They looked like ordinary FB-82s, but the racks of external weapons were far different from anything she had ever seen on standard underwing stores. She definitely wanted to know what kind of avionics and control systems they used.

She approached one fighter in particular that seemed devoid of maintenance personnel, checking the roster on a toolcart next to the nose. According to the document it was not assigned to anyone yet, raising her curiosity as she progressed to the cockpit. The canopy was already lifted to allow her access. She looked around to see if anyone was watching her, stepping inside when she was confident that her actions were unnoticed and planted herself in the seat.

The controls and cockpit displays were definitely unlike that in the security spacecraft that she was used to, with the dual sticks radically redesigned to an armrest-mounted side-stick layout rather than a main stick at the center and one off to the side of the seat. Instead, a yellow ejection handle was placed where the old control would be. She recognized each of their functions though: the left stick was for collective control in VTOL mode and supplemental attitude thrust, the right was the main control which also doubled as the VTOL cyclic. It's sure gonna take some time to get used to these cockpit ergonomics.

The pedal configuration was left unchanged, however, which were conventional rudder controls for both weightless and atmospheric environments in either mode. The engine throttle and cockpit atmospherics were in the same locations as well, but with additional options and settings.

She felt compelled to seek out the system startup switches on the control panel and eagerly flipped them on. The internal hardware hummed to life, virtual user interfaces and text displays flickered onto three CRT screens with anti-glare polyglass, and LEDs lit up some of the keypads and buttons. A heads-up display projected onto the window ahead in the same bright green found on the multi-function monitors, similar to that of the security fighters that she was used to, but with loads of additional information that made little sense to her at this point.

She hoofed the analog dials and buttons near the displays, studying some of the weapon systems. The interface was different for sure, with more options than she was used to, but it was not hard to navigate as she understood most of what was being displayed. She found preloaded calibration utilities for almost every weapon store found in an aerospace encyclopedia, even ones that she had never heard of until now, which she assumed were classified.

Even the targeting systems were far more advanced than on standard security craft, with superior tracking and identification software. She could only imagine how advanced the missile guidance systems themselves were.

"BANG!" A fist impacting the fuselage startled her out of her trance, making her jump out of her seat and look for whoever caused the disturbance.

A cocky-looking human walked closer to the cockpit area, an authoritative glare trained at the blue pegasus. "Hellstar up the right-rear outlet, direct hit. You're pushing up space-daisies."

"Wha-..." Dash shook her head in confusion, trying to process both the comment and the identity of the man who verbalized it. "Who the hell are you?"

He shot her a sarcastic salute. "Sol Sector Security pilot Scott Ferrin, serial Zero-Two-One-Nine-Nine-Four, official draftee to the Royal Trials Division of the 125th Stellar Defense Force. Or 'Battlewings,' if you will."

She ignored the obvious insult of her intelligence regarding the very last remark. "Draftee?"

"I exaggerate for effect," Ferrin replied with a shrug, "So, you're the hotshot pegasus who first encountered the weird CRAI spacecraft, huh? Rainbow Dash, Lunar Sector Security at the Orion orbital?"

She grinned proudly. "That's me."

"Yeah, why don't you step down from my fighter before you take out the whole ship?"

The grin faded at the sharp intimidation directed at her. "Excuse me?"

He leaned against the cold composite surface of the fighter. "Yeah, we've all heard about you. You're what we call dangerous. A showpony without any real combat training. Just FYI, hotheads like you never last long here."

Dash sneered at him mockingly. "You're one to talk, you're a civie security pilot yourself!"

"At least I don't ring the admiral's doorbell as a last resort. Just to neutralize one enemy fighter? Are you kidding me?"

She knew that he was referring to her desperate tactic of jettisoning her external tanks, as the yellow release button was often referred to as the admiral's doorbell in military service since pressing it without a good reason often resulted in a visit to the infuriated CO, usually an admiral. Which is definitely something she experienced in the form of Butes giving her and Gilda a good scream back at Orion.

Dash crossed her hooves and reclined in the seat. "Hey, the top brass seemed to enjoy it. Why else would I be here?"

Ferrin rubbed his eyes with a snicker at Rainbow's remark. "Did you really buy that? Do you even know what the Royal Trials Division is for?"

She furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

"Follow me to the briefing room. We need to talk."

Chapter 7

The disillusionment overshadowed Dash's enthusiasm after hearing the truth from Ferrin as she vacantly stared towards a large map of Equestria displayed on the wall of the flight deck briefing room.

"Are you okay?" Ferrin asked with genuine concern.

She kept her eyes on the map. "Why do you care?"

He took an enduring breath and leaned against one of the metal foldout chairs that filled the room. "You know, since I'm your acting wing commander until we get to Sirius-68, it wouldn't kill you to have a little more respect."

She finally tore herself away from the map, seating herself on one of the chairs and adjusting herself as the metal felt uncomfortably cold.

"Alright, look," Ferrin started, seating himself next to her, "I'm sorry you had to find out like this. But I assure you Celestia didn't have malicious intentions when assigning you here, you know her better than that. You're gonna be a part of something that-..."

Dash cut him off: "I don't mind playing a part in experimental warfare if it means ensuring the safety and security of Equestria, alright?"

Ferrin was puzzled by the exclamation, scoffing in contempt. "Then what's with the attitude?"

She looked at him dead in the eye before answering. "I don't like being deluded like a mindless sheep. I'm nopony's pawn."

Ferrin nodded with a shrug. "Well, that's all well and good, but now you're here. We're both here and now we both have to take shit from Naval brass. And since they chose me to temporarily lead this lab squad, you'll be taking my shit as well. Now's the time to buck up and take it like a real Battlewings pilot. If you don't like it, the docking sleeve is still there. But don't forget how rare this opportunity is. Lots of people would kill to be in your place. Besides, you wouldn't want to disappoint Celestia, would you?"

Dash sighed in contempt. "I guess not."

"Don't be foolish, Dash. I know you have what it takes. We just need to do some refinements... and work on that hot head of yours."

She eyed him darkly.

"I want to get something straight before the briefing starts." He paused for a moment, his eyes downcast as he mentally prepared for the seriousness of what he was about to say. "There's a chance we may be out here for a long time. I'm not sure if you're familiar with the principles of time dilation, the theory of relativity..." He trailed off with an inquisitive delay.

Dash was like a deer caught in the headlights. "Time... what?"

Ferrin nodded. "That's what I thought. Okay, basically what I'm saying is that time works a lot differently in space. You'll notice extra clocks supplemental to the Equestrian region ones throughout the ship. You see, depending on where we are in the galaxy, an hour could be the equivalent of a whole decade back home."

"But doesn't FTL travel defeat that issue?"

"Sometimes. Not always. I mean, sure, at least some of the required mods could be done to our ships in 48 hours, but it's basic politics. I heard through some of my friends with connections to REQ-NORTHCOM that the timeframe was only suggested to ensure the proposal went through. The reality is that it could take weeks, maybe months to adequately prep our spacecraft for these new weapon systems. Not to mention training new pilots. It takes time, and that means more time Equestria is left defenseless. See what I'm getting at?"

Rainbow nodded in understanding, though her uncertainty was still noticeable as she digested the facts being presented to her.

"I don't mean to add more to your plate, but you deserve to know all the facts. Better you learn them now before Jones has you running for the airlocks with his method of conveying things."

She managed a smirk.

"Look, there's still the GALCOM-NET. The galaxy is filled with hidden networks being bounced around, data streams almost everywhere... you can stay up to date with your friends back home while you're away. Keep up on the CRAI situation. That is, in between dead zones."

"Yeah," She agreed, "I guess you're right."

Ferrin looked at his watch. "Jones should be here any minute now."

"What should I expect from this briefing? Is he gonna tell us about the CRAI fighters, or how to use these new systems?"

"No, that comes later. Basically, he's gonna tell you everything I just told you, just with a little more... assertiveness. Mostly to weed out the chickenshits that are better off on civie security duty. Just relax, you'll make it."

Lieutenant Commander Jones checked his paperwork as he headed for the flight deck, traversing a particularly busy corridor filled with crew moving to various places. He focused on dossiers regarding some of the new pilots, smirking as he imagined the duration of their service on board the 125th vessel, especially considering his manner of authority. He began clenching on a cigar between his teeth like a no-nonsense admiral.

Jones had been an Officer of the deck (OOD) of the Dreadnaught since he was First Lieutenant, just before it was decommissioned. Until now he saw temporary duty as XO of the Akira-class battleship RES Virtroso, a duty he anxiously awaited transfer away from as he preferred the command of space wings and marine squads aboard carrier starships.

"Deck Officer Jones?" A voice called from behind, which Jones identified as First Lieutenant Higashi as the lean Japanese officer jogged to his side.

"I do have a rank, Lieutenant," Jones grunted to the ship's Warrant Officer (WO), his voice gravelly and accentuating of his African-American ethnicity. He gave Higashi ease as the newly-appointed officer must have been mingling with the regular personnel who mockingly referred to the typically irritable OOD as "Deck Officer Jones." It was bad enough that him and Gregory clashed in ideals to the point of the latter also calling him by that name on occasion.

Higashi shook his head apologetically. "Oh, sorry, sorry... Lieutenant Commander Jones."

"What do you need, Lieutenant?"

"I can't figure out the VI interface-..."

"It's the most comprehensive of any REN vessel, Higashi, what can't you figure out?" Jones chomped on the cigar with his posture taut to intimidate the fresh WO.

"Yes, well, I was looking for the flight deck briefing room."

"Ah, you're in luck. I'm heading that way. What business do you have there?"

"Well, you see-..."

"Aren't you needed on the bridge?"

"Actually, I was assigned to the Combat Information Center on the flight deck. Captain Mead requested my presence at the briefing, that's all I know."

"Alright then, I'm sure we'll find an extra seat for you."

"Excuse me, excuse me! Coming through! Payload containment breach imminent!" Chief Engineer Alessi rushed through the crowds of personnel with a look of panic as he passed by the two officers. "Merda, merda, merda, merda, merda..." He disappeared behind a bend in the corridor ahead.

Higashi pointed awkwardly ahead. "Who was that?"

"Chief Engineer Alessi. He's a little... erratic, but you'll get used to him."

"I'm telling you, these seals are going to wear off!" Onyx maintained to the unicorn Machinist that fabricated containment welds on a duct leading to the Light Drive main reactor.

"Sir," He replied patiently to the ETO, "That's impossible below 400 Celsius. That's well above levels when emergency venting."

"This duct goes to the heat exchanger on the FTL reactor core, not the vacuum drive reactors! Do you have any idea the levels of heat and pressure that's going to pass through there? It's way fucking hotter than 400 degrees! We're talking red zone! We might as well be passing magma through there!"

"I'm just following orders, okay?"

"Whose orders?"

"Chief Engineer Alessi! He just messaged me on my PDA a few minutes ago."

Onyx looked at him quizzically. "Alessi ordered these seals?"

"Yes! Can I get back to work now?"

Onyx waved him off to continue his duty, pondering why his usually competent superior would order such a weak containment seal.

"Greetings, my slaves!" A familiar voice echoed nearby.

Speak of the space kraken himself.

Alessi slid down a ladderway to the catwalk near the primary engine control center where Onyx was at, with newfound vigor in his stride as his load was now lifted. He looked around and threw his hands up. "Well, nobody welcome me back all at once."

The ETO confronted him: "Alessi, did you order those seals on the heat exchanger?"

Alessi looked towards the ducting connected to the reactor core. "No..." He suddenly bolted to the unicorn welding the duct. "Whoa, hey, wait a minute!"

The Machinist ceased his activity, turning to the approaching Chief Engineer. "What?"

"I told you to seal off the vacuum drive core, not the Light Drive! I was going to apply those welds myself!"

"But your message said-..."

"Go! Va via! Do your fucking job!"

"Yes, sir." The unicorn climbed down from his maintenance platform and headed to the ducts near the vacuum drive reactors.

"Oy, Mio dio sopra, it's so hard to find good engineers nowadays!" He turned to Onyx. "Come, let's get some coffee."

The briefing went better than Rainbow expected. She joined her fellow pilots as they exited the briefing room, remembering everything that Jones had said was a subject that Ferrin had tackled beforehand, just as he said. She was thankful for the preparation as everyone else succumbed to the coarse course nature of the ship's deck officer.

One of the earth pony security pilots had folded completely, though, handing in his transfer papers requesting his reinstatement to security service. Apparently he was reluctant about the idea of his loved ones back home aging faster than him, especially paranoid about his wife's prolonged loneliness during that time. That was enough to make the lot of them paranoid.

As soon as the frightened pony left the flight deck and proceeded to the docking sleeve, many hatchways and doors began sealing.

"All hands, make preparations for getting underway." Gregory's voice was loud and clear over the ship's communication system.

Ferrin emerged from the crowd and gestured for her to follow him. "We need to get to our quarters."

As she accompanied him down one of the corridors, she looked out the viewports that passed by. She could see the docking sleeve retracting into the station drydock, with several maintenance vehicles heading away from the Dreadnaught.

"Docking sleeve retracted," Gregory informed.

"Good," Mead replied to his XO, standing next to him near the center support structure, "McKelvy, did you run a diagnostics check on the nav systems yet?"

McKelvy leaned against his mapper with a smile. "I ran it three times already. Everything is functioning normally."

"Alright. Well, if anything gets screwy just replace the OS canisters with fresh drives and reboot the system. Don't bother with the memory until we're at Fort Arsenberg."

"Aye, Captain. Although, the replacement drives are well over two decades old."

"I suppose we'll get some replacements when we dock."

"Implying the format hasn't changed after all these years."

Gregory edged closer to Mead and muttered to him discreetly: "No one thought to replace our drive stock with updated canisters?"

Mead shrugged with a sigh, "She's been sitting decommissioned in a drydock for twenty years, what do you expect? I was busy trying to get her back into commission."

"Fair enough."

"Now... station the maneuvering watch, please."

Gregory punched a button to the open comm system. "All hands, man your stations. Report readiness."

A readiness indicator was located on a control panel ahead of them, with labels printed next to color-coded diodes to indicate the readiness level of each labeled section of the ship. Currently the lights were red, but were slowly turning green one-by-one, with the superior personnel of each section confirming their readiness on the intercom.

Engine room: "Engine room manned and ready."

Flight deck: "Tower receiving, standing by."

Missile bay, starboard: "Starboard missile room manned and ready."

Missile bay, port: "Port-side missile room manned and ready."

Missile bay, bow: "Forward missile room manned and ready!"

Missile bay, stern: "Aft missile bay awaiting command."

Battery control: "Auxiliary battery compartments manned and ready."

Medical bay / science station: "Life-sciences standing by."

Conn (McKelvy): "Navigation online and standing by."

Conn (Lowther): "Helm manned and ready, Captain."

Gregory turned to the captain. "Sir, all stations are manned and ready. Maneuvering watch set."

"Very well," Mead responded, "Release captive restraints."

Koroma headed for a console, opening a channel to the station STC. "Gateway, this is Dreadnaught, we're ready to get underway. Please retract umbilical and all docking latches."

"Roger, Dreadnaught," The STC acknowledged, "Removing docking restraints."

Closed-circuit TV monitors captured the action of the massive umbilicus retracting away from the ship's surface, smoke spewing from pressurized sources and sending vibrations through the supercarrier's hull. Other docking latches popped away from the ship's surface in a blur, rendering the spacecraft free to move about the zero-G maintenance bay.

"Umbilicus retracted," The STC reported, "All docking latches are now clear."

"Sir, the ship is clear of restraints and maintenance traffic," Koroma relayed to the captain, "She's ready to get underway."

"Prepare for launch," Mead ordered.

"Aye, sir!" Gregory's motivation was sincere in his excitement for the ship to be spaceworthy again, as was Mead's. "All hands, prepare for launch!"

Mead turned to Lowther at the helm. "Main engines engage, forty-six power!"

"Aye, Skip," Lowther acknowledged, "Main engines forty-six impulse."

Onyx flipped control relays to the on position on his console, allowing Conn control to the vacuum drive. "Main engines at full start! Forty-six power input!"

Alessi monitored the main drive on a viewscreen at his own console. "Capito! All engines responding! Starting ignition sequence!" He turned dials, activating the rearward boosters.

The massive turbines that generated energy for the vacuum drive reactors whined to life, generating thrust for the engines. Onyx and Alessi both hoped that the maintenance job done to the powerplant would hold, for both the launch and FTL travel.

"Conn," Alessi hailed the bridge, "Engine room, we're at standard impulse power!"

"Engine room, Conn," Lowther responded, "Confirming green lights on my board."

Alessi pumped his fist in the air victoriously.

"Sir," Lowther shouted to the captain, "Engines are hot and standing by!"

Mead took a moment to realize what he was about to order. For twenty years his ship had been in the Almahni shipyards, and now his dream of commanding his prized supervessel again had finally come true. As of this moment, it was ready to be among the stars again, where she was meant to be. Where he was meant to be, with her, as well as his fellow crew. It was time to further cement this dream into a reality. "Launch!"

"Aye, Captain." Lowther eased forward on the manual helm controls, expertly guiding the ship on its journey out of the drydock.

"All ahead standard, mind your rudder."

"All ahead standard, aye."

The exit to the drydock was approaching at a snail's pace from their perspective, despite traveling at a standard departing speed of fifty knots. The desire to be out amidst those gleaming specks of light tested their patience immensely.

"Decrease thrust at eighty-two meters and increase vacuum drive impulse power on my command."

"Aye."

After what felt like ages, the mighty RES Dreadnaught finally emerged from the drydock exit, now officially back in REN duty as she drifted for the void ahead. Elation washed over the crew when the brilliance of the Horsehead Nebula engulfed their view out of the main viewport, as well as the New Solar Sun despite the smart polyglass filtering its ultraviolet intensity.

Mead recalled how Equestrians described the beauty of the purple glow that the nebula cast over the planet's night sky. It was nothing compared to experiencing it out in space itself with unsurpassed clarity.

"RES Dreadnaught," Gateway's STC hailed, "You're clear from Drydock 89. Have a nice flight."

"Thank you, Gateway," Mead personally responded, "Dreadnaught signing off." He turned to Lowther. "Make your heading zero-one for the Westwind Quasar at 500 knots."

"Aye," Lowther acknowledged, typing commands into his console, "Laying course into the nav-computer. Speed, 500 knots."

Mead reached out to the support structure, touching an intimate hand to the cold mechanical surface with pride. "Welcome back to the stars, my dear. Hope that twenty-year slumber did you well."

Chapter 8

Somewhere in a cold, desolate quadrant of the Barnard 33 neighborhood, a few hundred lightyears from the New Sol Sector, was a lone space vessel. It drifted at a steady 500-knot course for the Zeta Orionis star system, otherwise known as Alnitak, with no other purpose than to await contact with her companion vessels, as well as instructions regarding her next assignment.

The solitary vessel was a Beagle-class hybrid carrier corvette by the name of ESS Trident, once running point for a three-ship outer scouting convoy bound for a secret REN drydock reported in this sector, now long-destroyed by the other ships.

Unfortunately for the CRAI vessel, the logistics carrier ESS Gallardo was taken down by the REN drydock defenses and the stealth cruiser ESS Vanguard was lost during a confrontation with the REN starship RES Cully, which seemed oblivious to the previous attack as it was far out of local communication range. The Trident was able to neutralize the REN destroyer, but was now left to fend for itself in the bleak vastness with limited ordnance after the attack on the drydock.

The bridge glowed a bright blue that reflected off of several chrome surfaces, giving the impression of being in a fish aquarium. Not even the lights from control panels and CRT viewscreens broke the solid shade and only lit individual crewmen that manned those particular stations.

Captain Haggard hunched over a readout near the communication array, scanning the yellow text that filled the screen slowly due to a severe time lag. It was straight from the CRAI outer-colony command somewhere near the outer-rim of the Sol Sector. Attached to it were supplemental digital documents regarding relevant REN vessels.

The message and documents were automatically printed to a hard copy, the stack of papers which Haggard immediately ripped from the slot on the console with sudden ferocity as he hastily made his way forward of the bridge. "Damnation!" He cursed, marching for the nav-computer console near his XO, Commander Leer. "These orders are ten hours old!" His voice was low and scratchy, with a hint of a Swedish accent.

Leer finished lighting a cigarette and approached his CO inquisitively. "We finally got a line?"

Haggard punched commands into the console, copying the data on the document crumpled in his hand. "Straight from Sol Sector Command. It's about fucking time too. Look at it, you won't believe it." He handed the papers to the XO.

Leer removed the cigarette from his lips as it was about to fall out of his mouth. "But-.. How do they expect us to do anything after being cut off from the fleet? Even then, we don't have any escorts left!"

"Exactly. Those G4 assholes are working on my last nerve." The assignment was based purely on the theoretical outcome of the three-ship convoy successfully carrying out the previous mission with only one possible loss. The encounter with the Cully was an unexpected snag that resulted in the loss of their other escort and onboard resources, a detail of which, though unknown to the intelligence division of Sol Sector Command, was a major statistical oversight. Now they were left with additional orders built on that blunder.

Leer read the documents again. "An Athena-class from Gateway... I thought all of those were decommissioned?"

"According to Sunrise - that's one of their agents - they're being retrofitted in response to our new UCAVs. But a few vessels are still vulnerable with outdated systems, that one included, which could give us an upper hand. He also said they're en route to a secret base somewhere past the Fleming Corridor. That one is scheduled to pass by this sector..." He did the math in his head, "In about an hour, I'd say."

"So am I understanding correctly that we're supposed to shadow its course without fleet support? Without any convoy support at all?"

Haggard shook his head. "Orders are orders."

"Sir, we don't have enough munitions or deck fighters to repel an attack if we're discovered! Our resources are so scarce right now that-..."

Haggard sharply ripped the papers out of his hands. "I'm bloody well aware of that, Leer!" He made his way to the control area, slapping the documents onto the Quartermaster's console. "Lieutenant Rankin, get a hold of the ESS Fortuna and ESS Celaeno. They reported operating around this sector yesterday." He sneeringly turned to his XO. "Feel better?"

"I can't do that, Captain," Rankin responded to the order, "We lost contact with them seventeen hours ago. The Celaeno is uncounted for and the Fortuna was in pursuit of an Amalthea-class corvette when her reactor melted down."

Haggard was almost at a loss for words regarding the new information, his mental plans of action unraveling before they could properly develop. "Fucking-... Shit! Well, get a hold of someone! Anyone!"

"We can't!" Leer insisted, "Captain, we're completely cut off!"

Haggard was about to respond, but stifled as he stormed back to nav-computer, assessing the situation. The Commander was right. Other than the line to Sol Sector Command, they were in complete isolation in a vastly dead sector, lightyears from the nearest GALCOM-NET hotspot. By the time it took to send a response back to them, the REN vessel that they were ordered to shadow would be long gone, safely at its currently unknown destination, and the orders were specific to the time frame. They had no choice but to comply, limited resources or not.

Haggard let out an exhausted sigh of surrender. "Rankin?"

"Sir?" The helmsman responded.

"Bring up the coordinates I copied into the nav-computer and set a course. Make your speed 700 knots."

"Aye, setting course. Speed, 700 knots." Rankin entered the appropriate commands into his console.

"And keep all channels open while we're underway. If you get any CRAI signal, fleet, individual vessel, whatever, hail them ASAP and report."

"Aye, Captain."

Leer attempted to approach the captain as he turned for the hatch to exit the room. "But Captain! We-..."

"I don't want to hear it!" He continued out the door without missing a beat. "You have the Conn. I'll be in my cabin if you need me."

Leer punched a nearby duct in a fit of rage, straining to retain a collected and professional temperament. He forced himself to evaluate their circumstances, understanding the orders that had been relayed to the Trident. It was possible to confront a spacecraft with outdated systems should the situation arise, but it was still a mere carrier-corvette up against a heavily-fortified supervessel. It was potential suicide.

The XO thanked whatever divine influence held in the heavens of the nebula that such a scenario was only secondary to the primary objective of discreet reconnaissance, in the event that their presence was discovered by the REN starship. He took a long, hard puff from the neglected cigarette, calming his apprehensive nerves.

Transmissions were fuzzy on Ferrin's PDA as he searched for a music station of his liking, but he finally settled on one that came in clear and happened to be playing one of his favorite songs, Solitary Nite by Line. "That's more like it."

Him and Rainbow both sat on their designated cots in the cramped quarters, making the best of the dimly-lit confines. Dash was attempting to immerse herself in the world of Daring Do, having brought the book along with her supplies in the duffel bag under her cot. It was a feeble effort to shut out the tin-can feeling of the room, even more so with Ferrin's choice of music.

She put the book down and turned to him irritably. "Ugh, how can you stand that bubblegum crap?"

He shot her another authoritative look, much like the one back at the hangar bay when they first met. "Instead of criticizing my taste in music, maybe you should make yourself useful. You know, instead of laying there reading and sleeping for hours."

She returned to the book. "I'm building my energy."

"For what? More sleeping and reading? Sorry, your highness, but that's not gonna fly here. Go clean your fighter or something."

"I would if I knew which one's mine."

"The callsigns are stencilled on the cockpit canopies. Which you would've known if you had payed closer attention to the fuselage of my own fighter before climbing in."

"Hey, the roster said it was unassigned, sue me."

"Those maintenance documents are never up to date before departing, trust me."

"Okay... what if I get lost?"

"There's terminals on every deck for the ship's VI, it'll help you navigate the ship."

"What if it makes fun of my new manecut?"

"Dash, are you intentionally trying to piss me off?"

She barely suppressed a giggle from behind the book. "Yes."

"Well, don't. You'll find that to be a deadly mistake."

"I'm trembling."

The central control area of the engine room was engulfed in a cloud of musky smoke coming from one of the two engineers that occupied it, namely Alessi as he sucked the herbal essence of his loosely-rolled joint into his system. He handed it out to his counterpart with squinted and reddened eyes. "Here, mio amico. If you have a tulpa or two, this is one way to get closer to them."

Onyx waved his hoof with decline of his CO's offer. "No thanks, man. And actually, that's not true. Studies show that their presence is more prominent with a clear head. In any event, I don't have the time or patience for yakshit like that."

Alessi retracted it back to his mouth, taking another hit. "I don't blame you. Who needs the extra responsibility when there's plenty of you bilge rats to babysit!" He shouted that last part to the crew beyond the cloud.

"With all due respect, sir,"A voice came from behind some machinery, "Screw off!"

"Ha! You guys remind me of the old machinists!"

"Just trying to fill the shoes of past legacies!"

He shook his head in disbelief, turning to Onyx. "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"I'm more concerned as to why you allow your other subordinates to talk like that."

"Fuck it, I'm too high to care. At least they're keeping themselves busy."

"Engine room, Conn," Lowther hailed on the comm system, "Prep systems for FTL travel."

Alessi dropped the joint onto the console and flipped switches to activate relevant hardware belonging to the Light Drive reactor core. "Conn, engine room, preparing systems for FTL travel." He was assisted by Onyx entering commands into his own console while also monitoring the core readings.

"All hands, rig for FTL!" Gregory commanded over the shipwide comm.

"Sir," Began Lowther to the captain, "Reactors are at a hundred percent. Ready to engage Light Drive on your command."

"Alright," Said Mead, "Cut main engines and engage Light Drive. Same heading."

"Aye, maintaining course. Shutting down vacuum drive and engaging Light Drive."

"You think she can handle it?" Gregory asked Mead, "This early in the refurbishment?"

"We'll certainly find out, won't we, Mister Gregory?"

Silence filled the bridge before metal creaks and groans could be heard from the inner workings, followed by a slight vibration due to the engines working on the starship equivalent of overdrive as the Light Drive propelled them into FTL travel.

To a fixed perspective, the Dreadnaught would have appeared to vanish in a flash of light from the engine outlets, but to the occupants, it was truly a sight to behold. Not only were various celestial bodies passing by at noticeably variable speeds depending on distance, but the whole universe around them seemed to distort and warp, as if being rearranged like objects on the surface of water. They were literally traveling through time as their destination existed thousands of lightyears beyond their original point of origin.

The distant radiance of the night sky had always been a window to the past for Equestrian observers, as well as the humans before them. It was a universal dream to someday reach them, shrouded with limitations in technology and the understanding of the universe around us. But now it was possible to bend the universe at our will, to reach what was thought to be unreachable, and what lies beyond. Past ignorances forever derelict in our wake, for the future was here to change life itself with a new perspective. If only the CRAI had embraced the blessings of science and unity as the Equestrians had.

"Conn, Radar," McKelvy was hesitant to report, "Friendly contact on long-range FTL scanners."

The forward and aft-facing scanners utilized during FTL travel were specific in their purpose for detecting objects in the path of the starship, allowing for last-minute course corrections to avoid a possible collision. They utilized the same datastream technology as the GALCOM-NET, allowing data to be funneled beneath normally percieved space, in the previously uncharted void of hyperspace existing at infinite variables between space and time. This allowed data to be transferred between locations existing at different points in the known galaxy without the latency caused by time dilation.

McKelvy's face turned a pale white as he read the data on his screen. "Oh no..."

Mead and Koroma turned to him curiously as the quiet exclamation had caught the watch officers off guard, especially considering that he had reported the contact as friendly.

"Radar, Conn," Gregory pressed, "Specify contact."

McKelvy's eyes shifted from his monitor and met the floor. "The RES Cully... departing A-95." He looked back to the screen, surprised to find that the Alnitak-95 drydocks were no longer registering on the equipment. He withheld the information, remembering that the attack on the REN base had already been reported in the GALCOM-NET encrypted channels regarding galactic readiness.

Koroma turned to the captain, watching his eyes widen as he faced a previously-recorded event that he dreaded to experience a second time, let alone in the physical realm. A pit formed at her stomach that was shared among the two officers as utter hopelessness struck the light of their being. They both understood that what they were witnessing was simply a distortion in time, as the event of the REN destroyer's demise was unfolding in rapid succession as they crossed its quadrant. It was an uncommon occurrence with vessels entering FTL travel, but still remained an inconvenient truth that tainted subspace navigation, for it was the core of nightmares that haunted all space travelers who had lost comrades to the cold darkness.

McKelvy noticed two other signatures nearby the Cully, apparently engaged in combat as one blip disappeared from the screen.

"Captain, look!" Gregory pointed ahead at a twinkle of white light in the distance of the morphing starfield.

"It's one of the ships she was engaged with." Mead's voice was monotone as he masked his emotions about the event, recalling the documents that he had read back at Gateway. "Direct hit on the reactor core."

The Cully's signature was now absent on the Radar Tech's console. "She's gone."

Mead inhaled deeply, sealing his eyes shut while straining to grasp his rationality. There was still another spacecraft left over from the attack, and it needed to be accounted for. "And the remaining CRAI vessel?"

McKelvy's screen was blank, as the other ship had traversed a great distance away from the quadrant as of their current point in time. "Gone, Captain. Last known course was for Alnitak. The star system, not the-..."

"Yes, I know." Mead kept his eyes shut, bracing himself on the center support structure. The despair was overwhelming and apparent to Koroma, drawing an act of comfort as she placed her hand on his shoulder.

A klaxon sounded at the the control console near Lieutenant Rankin's station at the helm. The Radar Tech checked the warning, discovering a signature at the edge of a CRT screen belonging to the detection systems. "Conn, Radar," The tech called out, "TEM transient on long-range scanners... bearing three-one-five at 500 knots. It's heading for the Westwind Quasar.”

Commander Leer punched the intercom button at the navigation console. “Captain Haggard, you're needed on the bridge.” He repeated the report, while informing of their sensor contact, then headed over to the tech. “Lieutenant Webb, can you specify?”

“It's an REN supercarrier. Athena-class. Database registers it as the RES Dreadnaught, sir.”

“That's it. That's the ship!”

Captain Haggard burst onto the deck and rushed over to the console next to his XO. “I have the Conn. What'd you find?”

“It's the Athena-class,” Leer answered, relaying its heading for the quasar.

Haggard turned to Rankin. “Come about twenty-six and match its course, 700 knots for now. Reduce to 500 when we're one light-hour from their maximum detection range.”

“Aye, Captain.” Rankin carried out the command, altering their course to follow the enemy vessel.

“She's entering FTL!” Webb reported with tension in his voice.

“Rankin!” Haggard shouted, “Kill vacuum drive and engage Light Drive! Increase reactor power at one-oh-eight percent!”

“Aye, engaging Light Drive!”

Haggard lit a cigarette and did a quick calculation in his head before turning back to the Quartermaster. “We're going to fall short twenty light hours at this speed. Consult the Chief Engineer about the possibility of pushing the reactor to a hundred and ten percent.”

Rankin glanced to the XO for reassurance, then to the captain. “Sir, that's not recommend-...”

“I don't care what's recommended, I asked if it can be done. I'm not going to waste fuel at subspace level just to let them slip by, and I'm not going to waste time arguing, so get a hold of engineering and ask if we can increase reactor power.”

Rankin resigned his concern and silently did as commanded, hitting the comm button to the engine room.

Leer approached him to the side and whispered: “According to Rankin, this is how the Fortuna bit the dust. If I may say so, sir, I hope you know what you're doing.”

Haggard took a puff from his cigarette while observing the data on nearby viewscreens. “So do I.”

Electricity arced off of the surface of the reactor core, licking past the heat-exchanger ducts in dangerous proximity of the two engineers seated at the control console. They bolted from their seat in a rush of panic, snapping out of their relaxed state of mind.

“Whoa!” Onyx shouted, “Was that normal?”

Alessi shook his head and reached for the console, his hands a blur as he entered commands into the diagnostic software. “Something's wrong with the control node!”

“What do we do?”

The readings on several gauges convulsed and settled in the red zone, much to the alarm of the Chief Engineer as he hit the comm button. “Conn, Engineering, we've got a major problem here!”

Lowther answered: “Engine room, Conn, what's going on?”

“High energy output in the reactor core!”

“How high?”

“Abnormally high! I got red zone all over my board!”

Sparks shot out of a nearby control panel, its circuitry overheating and melting from the increased core temperature and sensory overload. Steam vents began spewing mist of emergency coolant in a loud hiss that nearly deafened the personnel.

“The turbines are going to seize at this level!”

“Say again your last?”

Alessi rolled his eyes. “I said core levels are rising! Turbines are critical!”

“Wait, the core is critical?”

He was growing more irritated at the misunderstandings due to the hissing of the coolant. “No! No! The turbines! The turbines are critical! We need to cut the Light Drive!”

One of the ducts at a far end of the compartment burst apart and showered molten plasma onto some of the support structures.

“Oh, merda, emergency vent! Now!”

Onyx attempted to turn dials on the console further than permitted. “The PCA's open all the way!”

“Shut it down! Shut it down!”

Onyx met his partner's pace and entered commands into the master control to shut the FTL reactor down and deactivate thrust.

“What's the problem, Lowther?” Mead asked to the Quartermaster.

“Engine room is reporting that the turbines are critical.”

Mead glanced at the navigation console to check their current position relative to the quasar. “Tell them to spit on 'em for three more minutes. We're almost there.”

“I'm reading red lights here, Captain!”

“Three more minutes!”

“Captain!” Alessi shouted directly over the comm, “If we lose the turbines, we lose the vacuum drive! I'm shutting it down now!”

Mead rushed over to the helm. “No, stop! We can't break this far from the GALCOM-NET should we require maintenance! I'm asking for two minutes! Just two minutes!”

“We don't have two minutes!”

A warning light flashed on the helm control. “We're losing the starboard engine!”

Mead quickly re-evaluated his course of action and gave in to the seriousness of the situation. “Alright, all engines full stop! Full stop!”

Lowther flipped the switches on his console. “Killing drive engines! They're already shutting down the core.”

“Captain,” Rankin addressed, “Engineering said we can increase to one-ten, but strongly advises that we stay within that range to avoid overload on the turbines.”

“Very good,” Haggard acknowledged, “Increase to a hundred and ten percent.”

“Aye.” Rankin steadily increased the core power, speeding up their journey through FTL and catching up with the REN carrier.

Violent tremors resonated off of the hybrid carrier's hull, signifying the strain being put on their advanced powerplant. It was enough for everyone on the watch to stare ahead apprehensively as to the outcome of their passage, their foreheads rivulating with sweat.

The Dreadnaught suddenly appeared to slow on the Radar Tech's screen, coming to a complete stop in regular space. “Sir, they've disengaged Light Drive!”

Instead of inquiring despite his eager concern, he hastily ordered a full stop on the Light Drive before they could overshoot.

Another duct exploded, this time raining its contents onto vital systems connecting to the turbines. The giant fan-like machines came to a grinding halt, sending an inertial shockwave through the compartment that sent several personnel flying from their platforms and onto the hard metal surfaces of the catwalks.

“Porca puttana!” Alessi bellowed, bracing himself onto the console.

Onyx slid across the floor and grabbed hold of a lip that met the railing, slicing his hoof on the sharp protrusion. He grunted in pain and held his wounded limb close, staining his uniform and fur a scarlet red.

Alessi hit emergency shutdown switches on every system in the compartment, even the lights, sure to kill any power flow that could further damage the rest of the sensitive systems. The engine room flickered to a medieval appearance in the likeness of mythical hell, eerily lit a yellow-orange by electrical fires sprung forth by the short-circuiting hardware.

“Extinguishers!” Alessi yelled, heading to a blazing control panel.

Onyx climbed to his hooves and ripped a fire extinguisher off the wall, throwing it to the Chief Engineer before seeking out another one to assist.

As each fire was put out by the scrambling engineers, the room became blanketed in total darkness. All that remained for light sources were PDAs hung from the crew's belts and small headlamps that were slowly turned on. Their illumination of the machinery was obscured by thick smoke clouds swirling around them, forcing them to cough and breath through their uniforms until they could break out the emergency breathing apparatuses.

By now the ship was almost at a dead stop in space, only slightly in motion from the previous velocity exerted on it. Like a piece of driftwood on a calm river, its crew the stranded insects watchful of potential predators.