The Stars Beyond The Veil

Chapters

01 - The Bird in the Cage
02 - Chapter Two: The Price of Freedom
03 - Chapter Three: Work
04 - Chapter Four: Favors
05 - Chapter Five: Shipping and Handling
06 - Chapter Six: Return to Sender
Intermission - Everyone Needs A Breather
07 - Chapter Seven: Scotch and Sandwiches
08 - Chapter Eight: Due Process
09 - Chapter Nine: The Gavel Falls
10 - Chapter Ten: The Burning Question
11 - Chapter Eleven: Space Cowboy
12 - Chapter Twelve: Home Again
13 - Junkyard
13.5 - Emails
14 - Departure
15 - Battleship Blues
16 - Leads
16.5 - Emails Cont.
17 - Beacon
18 - Ghost
19 - Details
20 - Rumors
21 - Repomare
23 - Detour
23.5 - September 10 2:17 AM, 4131EC
24 - Visiting Hours
25 - History
25.5 - Home Movies
26 - Traitors
26.5 - Nightshade
27 - Aftermath
00 - Initiating Playback...
22 - Repairs
22.5 - Secure Communication 10:04 AM, September 9, 4131 EC

01 - The Bird in the Cage

If sound could carry in space, you would have heard the rhythmic thumping of my helmet against the drone control console as I tried in vain to solve my problems with the sheer power of my frustration. Sound, however, does not carry in space, so the only thing you would have seen would have been the image of me flailing like a madpony and making obscene gestures at an inanimate object. You may now take bets as to who was winning.

With a frustrated groan, I kicked the console with enough force to put tears in my eyes. Now, granted, most ponies would say that physical force would be the opposite of what you should apply in any situation regarding delicate, and finely tuned instrumentation, but these ponies had never encountered the Scrap Bandit. The Scrap Bandit was a ship in need of a kick in the teeth. It was perfectly horrendous, a mishmash of ship parts assembled from whatever was left of the junkyard it was built in. More on that later.

I stared at my WANDs readout, while I waited for my fix to kick in, sighing into the scrubbers in my helmet, and getting a minty fresh blast air in response. I was about to say ‘screw it’ when my WAND beeped with new information.

Reboot complete. Recalling drones to bay.

“Yes!” I shouted, throwing my legs up in victory. The ship shuddered as the drone bay opened. Three seconds later my WAND beeped again with another message for my readout.

Internal Exception Error: Drones 3 and 4 now rebooting.

Also, in space, no one can hear you scream.

*****

Six months. Compared to the lifetime before it, six months doesn’t seem like much time at all. That, however, is misinformation. Six months can be a long time, like, a really, really long time. You see, six months ago, my life sucked. My career as a salvager was on a seven-year streak and going nowhere, my account was about as empty as it had ever been, and I still needed to put in a solid twenty, before I could even make rent. But, it was all okay, or so I assured myself, because I was a pilot. Sure I was on the bottom rung of society, making barely enough to feed myself and wage-slave to one of the stingiest bastards this side of the PC, but I was a pilot! I could fly ships! How many ponies could claim that? Well, quite a few, but I was one of them, and damn was I proud.

When I was a little colt, I fantasized about going on some grand space adventure like the ones in my old comic books. Where I, the daring hero, would step up and save the galaxy with incredible feats of bravery and cunning. I wanted to be like Lickadee Split and the Scoot’n’Shoot 500, or Cap’n Cosmo and his crew of roughneck outlaws. I wanted to mean something. I wanted to do something important! And somehow, I just knew that my fate lay in the stars.

See, I had dreams once, and they were great dreams. I dreamed about becoming a pilot and going into space. I believed that if I could just get out there, I would discover my destiny. I would touch the stars and explore the great unknown. I was gonna be a pilot like my dad and fly spaceships, and it was going to be great. At least, before mom died.

I still remember the look on dad’s face when he told me what had happened. I remember how angry I had been; how alone, hurt, and confused I’d felt as I grappled with the loss. And then what did dad do? He joined the military. He left a note with his WAND on the couch, telling me I should keep it safe and make sure that I kept up the apartment while he was away. He left me with 200 bits, a run-down apartment, and no way to pay for it. And to top it all off, he didn’t even write. I never saw the bastard again.

In the blink of an eye, my dream was dead. But I didn’t give up on it, oh no. I got my dream. I sold my soul to someone else for it, but I got my dream. Despite everything, I earned my pilot’s license at the age of seventeen, and I was damn proud of it.

And now I’m a space janitor.

Did I want this? Hell no. How was I supposed to know that having a pervasive genetic defect barred you from military service? Or that showing up to a job interview without a cutie mark made you look like some druggie off the street? Why did it matter if I had Fade? I certainly wasn’t alone, billions of ponies had it and they did just fine… sometimes. I don’t know if you could imagine what it felt like to watch my dreams burn. I don’t know if I can even describe it. All I know is that it changed me.

I gave my damndest to chase my dreams, and I did whatever it took to get them. I dealt drugs to pay rent. I played buck-in-the-middle for desperate ponies trying to get their fix so they could deal with life, all the while answering help-wanted ads from the local classifieds. I wanted something better than a run-down apartment in the station slums. That’s how I met Junkyard.

He found me one slow day in my alley. He told me that he knew my father, and that he needed a talented young pegasus like myself to fly his ship for him. I couldn’t speak, I was so shocked. The next thing I knew, I was flying. Though, not the way I’d dreamed. Thanks to Junkyard, I became a salvager, a cog in the galactic machine. I was... average. I wouldn’t become like my heroes. Instead, I was just Horizon Seldat, a poor pony making just enough money to cover rent each month and little else. But I was flying, damn it! I was a pilot! And to me that meant something. Or at least it did.

Once upon a time...

Charlemane Presents...

The C-Band crackled to life as I opened a line with the tower. It had a been another long shift, and all I really wanted to do was sleep.

“Scrap Bandit to Docking Authority,” I said, rolling through procedure, “Scrap Bandit requesting permission to snap in.”

I waited in the silence, staring at the gleaming line of ships leading home, like tiny stars in the great shadow of L6-C. A few years ago I would have told you the view was pretty, now, well, it was just another part of the job and a grim reminder of how boring the next few hours were going to be. Traffic always sucked around the queues.

After a few moments, the Tower responded, “Docking Authority to Scrap Bandit, please transmit credentials,” the buck in the tower said. He sounded bored, though at this time of night, who could blame him? If I was stuck in a chair staring at screens all day I’d be chewing horseshoes too. My WAND beeped a confirmation as I sent him the details.

“Scrap Bandit to Docking Authority, credentials sent,” I replied. I leaned back against my harness, easing into a more relaxed position while fighting the urge to stretch. My wings itched. I wanted to be out. Being cramped in a ship all day did hell to a pegasus’ nerves. I planned to get some fresh air in the station, and maybe even hit up the plaza for a quick flight before bed.

“Docking Authority to Scrap Bandit, permission granted! Please proceed in queue to dock one, three, delta,” the tower finally said. The console in front of me flashed with the details.

“Dock one, three, delta, aye Docking Authority,” I replied.

“Confirmation accepted. Welcome home, Scrap Bandit.” The line closed with a pop.

A Faderverse Story

I rolled into queue, levelling off as I passed the first dock marker and eased into position. I was in the line behind a small cargo ship, perhaps a few hulls larger than my own. Head lolling in weightlessness, I let my attention drift until I passed marker two: the services marker.

My WAND beeped as it was immediately flooded with advertisements for the various services available on-station. I grumbled as the jingle for Snowdrop’s Snowcones played for the thousandth time. I don’t care if it’s catchy, some things just get old. A small ping in my vision alerted me to an incoming call.

Incoming Transmission Request from Juryrig Enterprises.

I groaned. This day was about to get much, much longer. The C-Band opened with a soft crackle.

“What,” I said darkly.

“The hell do you mean what?” said the bane of my existence, “I’ve been waiting all sun-damned afternoon for your ass and all you have to say is ‘what?’” Junkyard sounded like he chewed concrete for a living, though considering he owned a scrapyard and made a living selling another ponies’ trash, that didn’t really surprise me. He had two volume settings: loud, and irate. “Where the hell have you been?”

I rolled my eyes as I actively tried to avoid looking at the drone console. “Fishing out that satellite from belt three, what else?”

“For eighteen hours? That should have taken eight, tops!”

“Yeah, eight, if I didn’t have to reboot your shitcan drones every ten minutes,” I shot back, adding a stomp for effect.

“Bullshit, those drones are good and you know it,” Junkyard replied.

Sure, two decades ago…

I was about to respond when my WAND fired off a proximity warning. I fired the bow thrusters, killing my forward momentum and barely avoiding another hole in the viewport. Several new messages popped up on my readout, presumably from the cargo ship I nearly rammed. At least now I had some reading material.

“Look, boss, as much as I’d love to chat, unless you want to add ‘replace fucking ship’ to the damages, I’m gonna have to chat later.”

“Office! Cargo! Now!” He bellowed. The C-Band popped as the line closed.

“Asshole,” I groused, sighing. Feeling a tingle creeping into my legs, I settled in for what was shaping up to be a very long night in the queues.

The Stars Beyond the Veil

Chapter One:

The Bird in the Cage

“Today we mourn the loss of the Bearers of Harmony, who time and time again have braved the darkness, selflessly risking their lives to protect the health and welfare of all. Today we gather to honor these heroes, these six mares, who left an unforgettable mark upon the lives of all Equestrians. It is with heartfelt sorrow, now, that we finally lay to rest Celestia’s own student and the bearer of Magic, Twilight Sparkle. May she rest peacefully in the arms of the goddesses, and may her selfless tenacity, enduring enthusiasm, and relentless entrepreneurial spirit serve as a shining example to all.”
- Memorial Service for Twilight Sparkle 1125 E.C.

The ship shuddered as the magnetic docking clamps finally locked into place, securing my ship to the docks, and finally allowing me to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Queues suck,” I grumbled as I sent off a request for a cargo lift and hit the harness release. The latches came free, and I drifted out of my improvised pilot’s chair, floating slightly toward the ceiling as my momentum carried me upward. Twisting, I grabbed a handlebar on the roof of pilot’s cabin, before kicking off toward the rusted door to the access corridor. Keying the door control, I waited. And waited. And waited.

“Dammit,” I groaned. Honestly, I should have known better than to trust the Bandit to have working controls, but given how long I had been working I’m just going to blame the fatigue. Slowly, I pried open the small maintenance panel next to the door and used my WAND to turn the little lever inside. The door to the access corridor grinded open at a snail’s pace. Once it was open wide enough, I wiggled through into the vacuum corridor beyond.

Now, in normal starships the interior of the ship is pressurized, and possesses such niceties as artificial gravity and airlocks that open and close on their own. The Bandit is not a normal starship. Artificial gravity was bucked, and the builder’s idea of a safe depressurization chamber was two pipes on either side of the door to brace yourself against, as the vacuum rapidly sucked everything into space. Lucky for me, that last little feature resolved itself after one of the previous pilots was ejected into the orbit of Luna six after a meteorite breached the pilot cabin. Did I mention that I was the one who installed the harness? That was why. And no, Junkyard did not fix the breach. At least the view was nice.

I took a short stroll down the access corridor to the rear facing airlock, releasing the door clamps and swinging it open with some difficulty. Making a controlled float outside, I shut the hatch behind me.

Ugly. That was the Scrap Bandit in a word. I used to joke it was more scrap than bandit until other ponies started adopting the moniker and wouldn’t let it go. Junkyard built the monstrosity from leftover scrap so he could stop spending his bits on rental fees. Consequently, the exact same day he finished it he also stopped flying, choosing instead to hire pilots too desperate or stupid enough to try and fly it themselves.

Since then, the ship has scored three kills all of whom were previous pilots. The first died when the life support gave out and started flooding the ship with carbon dioxide, the second from a magical discharge during a routine engine check, and the last when, well, I already covered that one.

I gently kicked off the hull of the Scrap Bandit toward the docking platform and activated my suits magnetic soles using my WAND. I landed with a thud I felt more than heard. As I recovered, a pegasus in a muddy brown dock worker suit approached me.

“You the one who ordered the cargo lift?” she asked, the radio in her helmet giving her voice a mechanical edge.

“Yeah, I’ve got a load of salvage I need delivered to Junkyard’s shop.” I replied. The dock worker took a brief glance at the Scrap Bandit.

“We don’t tow spaceships.”

I mentally updated my list of things I hated about my job. Times I’d heard that joke, plus one. Grumbling, I said, “Just get the cargo to the shop and bill the owner.” Junkyard’s ship, Junkyard’s problem. I smiled at the lecture I would be getting when the bill arrived.

“Whatever.” the dock worker replied. She turned and kicked off towards the waiting cargo lift where a second tech stood waiting. Not bothering to watch their work, I trotted across the platform to the airlock and the station beyond. The airlock closed behind me as I entered, and immediately began to pressurize with breathable air with a hiss that built in volume as sound slowly returned.

I sat on my haunches and my forehooves found the latches on either side of my helmet. Two clicks later my helmet was off, floating briefly for a moment before clattering to the ground as the artificial gravity kicked in. A sickening lurch filled me as my normal weight returned. WAND glowing, I scooped up my helmet and stored it in my suit’s pack and then took a deep breath of the freshly cycled air. It smelled like heaven compared to the scrubbed substitute I had been inhaling for the last eighteen hours.

A chime sounded and the door to the station interior slid neatly open. I trotted through the small corridor into the main boulevard, and from there into the city street. A wave of relief followed. Airspace. Glorious airspace. Spending too long in a cramped area would drive any pegasus nuts. That’s why our colonies were built like the cities on planets. We needed the headroom, if only for our sanity. Sighing, I followed the roads leading to Junkyard’s office.

*****

Since in the moment after I walked into his office, I was not pelted with pens, notepads, mugs and whatever other hard objects may have been within reach of Junkyard’s hooves, I assumed that the bill had not yet arrived. I considered it a lucky break and began hoping that I would be getting paid in full for this job.

Junkyard sat at his desk and immediately turned to see me, his tail knocking over a stack of papers as his obese dark brown frame rotated ponderously in his seat. He ignored the falling papers and focused his grumpy demeanor in my direction.

“There you are ya lazy git.” Junkyard said, his gruff voice carrying its familiar hostile edge.

“Always a pleasure to see you too, Junkyard,” I said evenly, “Sat’s recovered. Where’s my pay?” I sent a log of the cargo details to the small tablet sitting crosswise on his desk. It beeped as the transmission went through.

Junkyard picked up the tablet and scanned through it with his beady black eyes, muttering idly to himself while a frown deepened on his face—probably its most natural position.

I cleared my throat and received an annoyed glare in response. “My pay?” I said.

Junkyard made a noncommittal grunt, “Later, payday isn’t till the end of the week. And I haven’t verified this shipment yet.” It’s worth noting that Junkyard’s cutie mark was an IOU. Did I mention he was also fat? Oh, and ugly. Like his ship.

“Rent is in three days, boss,” I argued, “I need my pay now! I’ll lose my apartment if the landlord doesn’t get his due.”

“Not my fault you don’t know how to manage your money,” Junkyard snorted.

“That’s because I don’t have any money to manage! You stingy git!”

Junkyard slammed a hoof on his desk. “Do you really wanna do this right now you ungrateful little shit?” he barked. “I’ve got things to do and all you’re doing is interrupting.”

“And I’ve got food to buy so I don’t die and cost you the only pilot to survive your shitcan of a ship!”

“I can’t pay you now.” Junkyard folded his fore hooves in front of him.

“Find a way.”

“You’re in no position to argue,” he countered.

“Neither are you,” I reminded him. This was a regular discussion. On bad days it would go on for hours with much shouting and heated arguing, sometimes drawing the attention of people outside the shop. Strangely enough, today was not a bad day. That, or Junkyard really did have something more pressing to attend to aside from sitting on his ass and collecting revenue.
He glared at me for a moment and then, grumbling noisily, ducked underneath his desk to the safe he kept there. There was a low beeping noise and a few moments later he placed a pair of bitsticks on the desk.

“Here’s half. I’ll pay you the rest once I finish inspecting the salvage,” he rumbled, setting himself back down into his seat.

“Thanks, boss,” I said sweetly. I levitated the bitsticks into the suit’s pack, noting Junkyard’s jealous eyes as they drifted to the device on my forehead. I shifted my head slightly so he could get a better look while a vain grin spread across my face.

“Get out.” he barked. I turned and stormed out. As I left I passed a unicorn in a dock worker’s suit, entering the office with a small pad floating in front of her. I smiled as I brushed past her imagining what the look on Junkyard’s face would be in a few short minutes. Tomorrow would suck, but it was so worth the trouble.

On the way back to my apartment I stopped by the plaza near Haymart and Hooves. My wings itched. I needed to fly, and while my body wanted nothing more than to bury itself into my couch, my mind needed some form of release. The plaza had emptied out, which was understandable for that time of day. The daytime cycle had ended and it was time for most ponies to put their fillies to bed.

I was quickly aloft and did a few easy warm-up laps around the flight zone, before setting into a faster but comfortable pace. It felt great, and after a full day of nothing but being locked in the cockpit harness, stretching my wings was just what I needed. I tried my best to ignore the small robotic sentry tracking me for the slightest legal infraction. Eventually I succeeded.

Flights like this were what kept me going throughout the years. The body needs sleep, but the soul needs rest as well. Letting myself fall into the easy, rhythmic wingbeats in the still evening air gave me some form of escape from an otherwise thankless and pointless existence. In the sky I could fly, not high of course, but high enough that I could enjoy the ancient splendor of what my ancestors did thousands of years ago.

This was what I lived for. I was certain. I had always been certain, and yet I still did not have my cutie mark. Jokingly I had always wondered whether my special talent was being invisible, that I actually found my cutie mark a long time ago, and it was simply hiding in plain sight. My true purpose in life: to fade into the background as another turning cog in the great galactic machine. I didn’t believe it, and yet. No, there was no escaping truth.

Truth was I knew why I was a blank flank. According to the doc I had inherited it from my mother, who, while not a blank flank herself, was a carrier. I had Fade Syndrome, an incurable genetic defect that prevented a cutie mark from ever appearing. Millions of ponies had it and that number grew with each generation. Mom beat the curb by not being affected by it, but passed the defect to me. I wish I had her luck. At least I would never have to learn that my special talent was finding crappy bosses. Thanks Mom.

A chirping noise filled my head and my WAND activated its AR screen, notifying me that I was quickly running out of flight time and that I would start racking up fines if I did not land within the next few minutes. Reluctantly, I set down and folded up my wings, taking one last longing look at the air above before trotting off to my apartment a couple sectors away.

*****

It took thirty minutes to get home, and by that time I could feel the bags forming under my eyes. I scanned my keycard using my mouth, my brain too fried to effectively use my WAND’s levitation magic. The hatch opened with a hiss and I plodded inside my dingy little apartment.

The apartment should have been condemned. I always felt that if a comparison could be made, my apartment was to a normal apartment what the Scrap Bandit was to an aristocrat’s pleasure yacht. Sadly this was not a fair comparison. While I was certain the key difference between the Bandit and the salvage it pulled in was that the salvage could be made useful again, the Bandit still functioned after a sort. Sure it was an old beat-up ship with a nasty owner and in desperate need of a little TLC, but it still did its job. Nothing worked in my apartment. No water, no power, no heat. Heck, with the windows in the shape they were, the place barely qualified as shelter.

I rubbed the crystal on my head with a hoof, trying to get its rough surfaces to scratch the coat underneath. Before undoing the strap and setting it on an end table. My eyes lingered on the device. I was lucky to have it, sort of.

WAND was short for ‘Wireless Arcane Networking Device’. It was a tool that most professionals used to help them with everyday tasks in the bigger colonies. It could be loaded with a large variety of programs, but was mostly used for its telekinetic magic. A WAND allowed any non-unicorn pony to use levitation magic like a normal unicorn to a fair degree. It was not a perfect substitute, but it was better than trying to use your mouth on everything, not to mention much more sanitary. Unicorns could also use them but they wore them around the neck instead of centered on the forehead. For them, they worked more as an augmentation for the spells they cast with their horns or for accessing the M-Net. WANDs could wirelessly access any number of terminals or computers in a short radius, allowing a user to interact with them without direct contact. They also had a built in augmented reality matrix that could project a readout in front of you that only you could see, unless instructed otherwise. I won’t go into all of its functions, but like any good piece of hardware, a WAND could do just about anything a small computer or tablet could do, but was much more portable. Some could even cast spells.

For an extremely useful and notably expensive piece of hardware, mine was a piece of junk. It was slow, rusty and had one strap loose so it sometimes shifted on the cranium. Not to mention, it was old. Very old. In fact, it was so old that I couldn’t find parts for it anymore. The special alloy inset for the focusing gem was tarnished, and the rest of its casing was scratched and dented so much that the original paint had peeled. Before my dad took off, he told me that the damn thing was passed down from his father and his father before him. I don’t recall just how far back it went, I just knew growing up that if I ever lost it I would get one hell of a beating later.

My WAND was one of the few things my dad left me before he, well, left me. He also left me the apartment, all of his bills and the couch. I loved the couch. Beneath the reek of old cigarettes, booze and mildew was a nice lumpy, if a bit grimy, piece of furniture that only slightly creaked when you laid down on it and was much more comfortable than the hard floor on an average night. Granted it was not much, but it was reasonably comfy and most importantly, it was mine.

It was on this wonderful piece of furniture that I was going to pass out for the rest of the night, once I got some food in me. I headed to the fridge and pulled out a delightfully warm bottle of cider and an old can of wheat mash. Reclining in my couch, I used my teeth to pull the tab on the can of mash and dug in. What can I say? I have a penchant for fine dining. Sleep came easily.

*****

I arrived back at Junkyard’s office early the following morning for my next job. It was the same thing on a different day, or so I had thought. The office was empty, which was uncharacteristic for my employer. He practically lived there. An empty donut box was still sitting on top of the small bookshelf behind his desk where it had been the day before. The papers that had fallen off the desk were still on the floor. This struck me as odd. While the rest of his office was debatable, Junkyard had always tried to maintain some form of orderliness around his desk.

It wasn’t until I trotted inside that I noticed something was truly wrong. The chair was overturned as if the oaf had fallen out of his seat. As I approached his desk I found him. Curled up on the floor like a scared foal, lying in a pool of drying blood with several holes riddling his side was Junkyard, his beady black eyes glazed over and his face frozen in a rictus of sheer terror.

My boss was dead.

Notice: 96% Remaining...

02 - Chapter Two: The Price of Freedom

Chapter Two

The Price of Freedom

“Today, there is a new star in the sky. Not one of fire and magic, but one of metal, sweat and blood. Today we have accomplished a feat unheard of in all the generations that have come before, a feat that marks the birth of hope for Equestria. Today, at 4:31 this morning, the good ponies of the Equestrian Space Exploration Program announced the successful launch of the world’s first orbital space colony. Today marks the start of a new beginning for all Equestrians. It marks the birth of a future, not one consumed by the destructive will of equinology, but one that will bring peace and prosperity for generations to come. Today, this glorious day of the Summer Sun Celebration, we extend our reach to the stars.” – Launch of Equestria One 2141 E.C.

Nothing could have prepared me to see Junkyard dead. I mean, sure, I had heard about ponies dying before, in the colonies death was everywhere. Ponies died from hunger, ponies died in gang shoot-outs and others from drug overdoses. Ponies died of old age or disease. Death lurked around every corner, but it usually stayed just out of sight. Pegasus authorities did their best to protect young families from the harsh realities of life.

This was my first time encountering death. I had never been that close before. Before it was a great and mysterious other, something that happened to other ponies off in the distance. Now, I stared it in the face, and grim reality rolled over me. I felt sick.

I stumbled into the office restroom and emptied my breakfast into the toilet. It took me a few minutes to regain my sense of self. I sat on my haunches and waited until my stomach finally settled, and then reentered the office taking stock of the scene before me. My stomach churned whenever my eyes passed over the body on the floor.

Junkyard was dead and whoever had killed him was in a hurry. That pony had also raided his safe and made off with the few valuable bits in his office, leaving behind everything that was either too heavy or too impractical to carry. Judging by the wounds he sustained, Junkyard had been shot with a projectile weapon. They were common weapons of particularly low caliber, but still lethal nonetheless.

While it might seem that such weapons would be obsolete in an age where just about everything ran on some form of magical energy, projectile weapons like the old assault carbines and pistols were much cheaper and easier to build in large quantities than energy weapons. They were perfect for clients with a sore lack of funds like two-bit criminals and muggers.

My gaze lingered on Junkyard’s body. I had always hated him, and yet the stallion lying dead beneath his desk represented the entirety of my stable relationships. And now he was gone. For whatever reason he died he probably deserved it, but all the same. Junkyard was a pony that, while not all that pleasant to work with, would pay for what he owed. Well, so long as you were willing to wring it out of him.

If anything I felt I owed him. If it was not for Junkyard, I would have never been a pilot. He paid the fee for taking the aptitude test when I was just a young stallion too eager for his own good. I paid dearly for it throughout the years I worked for him, but, I got to fly, and that in itself was worth the pain.

We had something of a mutual understanding between us. He needed me to fly his ship and bring in the salvage so he could make a living, and I needed him to pay me for my services so I could make rent and still fly. Our partnership was good, if less than friendly. He would screw me over, I would be a pain in his flank, and together we would make a profit despite ourselves. All things considered though, I still got the short end of the bargain.

Whatever Junkyard did to get himself killed, simultaneously killed my piloting career as well. With no employer to sign for exit clearance, the Scrap Bandit could not undock without station security locking it down. Oh the joys of flying ships that belonged to other ponies. My lifelong dream of flying was shattered. I was screwed, Junkyard screwed me over, and this time I couldn’t get back at him for it.

“You bastard.” I told him. Part of me insisted that the expression on his face was actually him laughing at me.

A scream awoke me from my reverie. One of Junkyard’s clients, an older mare in a nicely pressed pantsuit, had just walked in the door and was now recreating what she thought had transpired. Her eyes darted from the body, to me, back to the body, back to me, and then with a shriek she galloped back outside.

I quickly realized that my situation was rapidly degenerating.

To an uninformed outsider, I had every reason in the world to kill Junkyard, and for the Pegasus Police Bureau, only motive was required to convict for murder. I had a witness against me. Add into that in my presence at the crime scene, our infamously hostile relationship, and the fact that Junkyard had conned me on pretty much every job I ever took for him, and my fate was sealed. As soon as the police figured out what had happened, I would be going to jail for a very long time. I needed to leave. I needed to run. I also needed a reason to leave the station or my getaway would be laughably short.

My WAND lit up as I accessed the terminal in Junkyard’s desk. The screen was damaged beyond repair, but the wireless interface was still functional. Somepony had tried to pry it free from the desk before giving up and settled on taking the tablet instead.

Using my WAND’s AR matrix as a monitor, I forged a job dispatch sufficiently vague enough to get docking clearance without raising suspicion, and levitated Junkyard’s limp forehoof to the scanner for the hoofprint. The resulting order was technically valid and would pass inspection, provided my hoax was not discovered before I could undock.

I had no time to lose. Storing the dispatch on my WAND, I galloped out of the office and into the streets of the business district. In the distance I heard the sound of sirens rapidly approaching. I started counting the charges in my head. Murder, forgery of official documents, theft, fleeing the scene of a crime, evading arrest, and the list went on.

Whispering a prayer to Celestia, I sprinted down the street and into the passageways that lead to dock 13D. A sentry drone turned to face me as I streaked by. My AR screen lit up.

Pedestrian speed violation – 500 bits. Please report to your local government authority to pay this fine.

Great and there went half my pay, I thought grimly. Then I realized that I wouldn’t be sticking around to pay it. Breaking the law never felt so good. I picked up my pace, and made sure to strike a rather compromising pose for the next sentry I passed. Screw your fines, government!

*****

My helmet was on by the time I reached the airlock. Panting, I slammed a hoof into the door control and it hissed open. I rushed inside and began mashing the buttons on the panel inside, whispering obscenities under my breath.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.”

The door slid shut, and a chime played. A sound like a roar filled the room and then quickly died as the environmental control systems depressurized the chamber. A few moments later, the airlock opened and I trotted to where the Scrap Bandit was waiting. Deactivating my suit’s magnets, I bucked to the cockpit and slid in through its customized viewport, for once grateful of Junkyard’s stinginess. I strapped myself in, and then flicked on the C-Band with my WAND, taking a moment to catch my breath before starting procedures.

“Scrap Bandit to Docking Authority, Scrap Bandit requesting exit clearance.” I did my best to keep my voice calm and level, though it still wavered to spite me.

“Docking Authority to Scrap Bandit, please transmit exit credentials.” The voice on the other end said. My heart leapt. The mare on the line was somepony I knew very well. I smiled beneath my helmet, feeling more confident.

“Scrap Bandit to Docking Authority, sending credentials now.” I sent the fake dispatch along with the ship ID. The silence lasted for an eon.

“Docking Authority to Scrap Bandit, permission granted, please proceed to exit queue and await further instructions.” Getting through the exit queue would take hours. It was time to gamble.

“Aw come on Prism, you know I don’t start getting paid until I get out in the black.” I whined. The mare’s vexed groan on the other end of the C-Band confirmed my suspicions.

“Horizon, you know I can’t do that.” Ruby Prism argued, “Last time I let you out early I almost lost a whole shift.”

“Come on Prism, I’m short on rent this month and I really need the extra pay.” I lied. I felt terrible, lying to Junkyard was one thing, but lying to a friend? In my book that was unforgivable.

“Your problem, not mine.” I felt something sink in my stomach. A sound like the magical hum of a containment field started playing in my mind.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you.” I added, wincing after I had said it. I had a feeling that if this worked, I was going to pay out the nose later. If I still had a one to pay through by the time she was done with me. Prism was silent for a long time.

“Fine,” she finally said, “but only if you buy me a round at Carlo’s when you get back.”

“It’s a deal.” I was a bad, bad pony.

“Alright,” she sighed after a moment, “you’re cleared for undock, now get out before I change my mind.”

“Thanks Prism.”

The docking clamps released and the Scrap Bandit floated freely for a moment before I engaged the thrusters and eased the ship past the docking queue. Slowly but steadily, I wove around the various docked ships in the hangar, picking up a little speed as I cleared an overhanging maintenance rig. A clock was ticking in my head. News of what had happened at the office would be reaching the PPB any minute now. I needed to get into space and out of the disruption field before I got caught. I had just crossed through the hangar shielding when the C-Band popped back to life.

“Scrap Bandit, this is Officer Eidlhoof of the Pegasus Police Bureau. Power down your ship now or you will be fired upon.”

Oh karma, how I love thee, I thought. Prism’s voice popped in through a separate line.

“Horizon what’s going on? I just got a notice from the PPB. It says here that you are wanted for...” Prism gasped, “this... oh goddesses this can’t be right...” She breathed.

“It’s not, but I don’t have time to explain right now.” I said, “I’m sorry Prism, but I can’t let you get involved in this.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU C-“ the C-Band popped as I cut her line. The officer’s voice took over.

“Scrap Bandit, this is your final warning! Power down NOW!”

“Sorry officer,” I replied, feeling the adrenaline kicking in, “I don’t feel like going to jail today. After all, it’s Friday, and I don’t want to miss happy hour. I’ve got a few drinks I need to buy.” I threw the thrusters to full power, aiming toward a line of cargo ships waiting to dock. My body rocked against the harness as the ship rocketed forward.

“Y- ...GET BACK HERE!” the officer roared. By the time he could react, I had banked around one of the cargo ships and was speeding toward the edge of the disruption field. The cruiser tore after me. He was right on my tail and gaining quickly, but too far behind me for a good shot.

We weaved between the long lines of ships leading into the hangar. I stayed a split second ahead of my pursuer but my lead was closing rapidly. The police cruisers had military grade thrusters and could accelerate much faster than the measly hackjob installed on the bandit. What the Scrap Bandit lacked in power however, it made up for in mass. On a normal starship the ship’s mass would have turned the engine into a slow, nasty thing, but with the Bandit so gutted of important systems like life support, gravity, and shielding, its mass was small and agile. The ship strained with every turn, but it held together, and took its turns with sharp, if a little unsteady, grace.

Even with the added agility however, the Scrap Bandit was still slower than the cruiser chasing it.

I struggled to maintain the distance, using the ships in the queue as a shield against the police cruiser’s targeting, and forcing him to slow down as he turned. The officer would not risk firing at me so close to the cargo ships unless they had a guaranteed shot, and I was determined to make that a pain in the flank to achieve. I hugged a line of starships and bounced from line to line as clearance allowed, the cruiser in hot pursuit.

I managed to keep him at bay, until the officer’s ship pulled back and off to the side. For a split second I thought that he was giving up, but shook the thought out of my head. No pilot with a speed advantage would willingly give up ground. In a heartbeat I realized why.

Another police cruiser joined the first, cutting in front of me on a hard diagonal. I tore at the controls with my WAND, cutting a sharp dive to avoid a collision. Unlike the police cruisers, the Scrap Bandit had nothing in the way of functional shields, and for me, a direct collision meant instant death. I felt the straps of my harness dig into my sides as the G-forces tried to hurl me out the gap in the viewport. My concentration faltered, and the controls slid out of my WAND’s magic.

I fought for control as the Scrap Bandit hurtled downward, the momentary loss of input causing it to list horribly. The first cruiser was on me in a heartbeat, and brought its cannon to bear on my ship. Its core began to charge. Panicking, I searched for cover.

A tanker had entered the line below me behind a smaller merchant ship. It would do. I pulled the ship into a full dive. The Scrap Bandit shot between two of the ships as the cruisers pursued, the ship jolting as it scraped hulls with the merchant. Both police cruisers careened off to the sides, too big to fit the gap.

I had broken their line of sight, so I changed course and ducked into a small gap between two massive water tankers, forcing the larger cruisers to strafe blind on either side. Bringing the nose up, my ship peeled away in a loop as I cleared the end of the tanker.

The two cruisers sailed past me, drifting wildly as they tried to come about. The heavier police cruisers slowed to a crawl as their engines fought their momentum. The trick had bought me a few seconds lead, and I was not going to let it go to waste. I aimed for the end of the next line and the edge of the disruption field beyond.

Seconds away from the edge of the field, I powered up the Sparkle Drive and input my destination. There was only one safe place I knew that I could go, but it wasn’t close. I figured that was for the better. Cornering around the last ship I hit a straightaway. The ships cleared out in front of me. It would be a race to the edge. The drive was at full power and ready to activate as soon as my WAND told me it was clear to jump. The police cruisers cleared the queue just seconds behind me.

Two pulsing beams of magic slammed into my ship. A warning sign appeared on my WAND’s AR screen notifying me that the ship’s Sparkle Drive had been scrambled. It was still powered, but the interference from the beams was preventing the matrix from activating.

“Oh... Buck Me!”

I was outside the field, and so were my pursuers, their energy cannons powered and leading my ship. I rolled and banked hard, turning in time for two bolts of magical energy to harmlessly sail past. The three of us were dogfighting two on one, and absent of civilian ships, the police had shed their concerns about hitting innocents. Their guns flashed every few seconds as the long barrels of their cannons spat round after round in my direction.

The Scrap Bandit was unarmed, and if the fighting kept up I would be floating dead in a glowing cloud of debris. I needed a plan. I had an idea, but it was stupid and probably suicidal. I had no chance of outrunning the ships, but I had one last ace in my saddle. I decided to run with it.

I led the Scrap Bandit into a sharp turn, the ship groaning around me in protest, and aimed it toward the two police cruisers just as they fired. Two lances of deadly magical energy shot past, one neatly grazing the cockpit. I felt heat warm my body as the concentrated radiation sailed by, taking another piece of the canopy with it. Three seconds and I would be between them. Two seconds. I could see the energy building within the heart of their cannons. One. I gritted my teeth, preparing for the worst. My heart skipped a beat.

The beams of the drive jammers crossed as my ship sailed between the two cruisers. There was a bright flash as the magical fields cancelled each other and the warning sign on my AR screen disappeared. I punched on the Sparkle Drive with a hoof and prayed to Celestia. The ship shuddered and shunted horribly. For a grave moment I thought the drive was going to explode. A powerful field burst to life around the Scrap Bandit, pulsating with energy. The field shined like the sun, the light building in intensity as the police cruisers struggled to retarget me. Then, in a blinding flash of arcane magic, my ship vanished, leaving the two cruisers and the distant station behind.

The universe dropped out from under me. I felt myself pulled in a new direction, one that was not in any direction I could properly describe, other than simply, away.

*** ***** ***

“It felt like being flushed down the loo.”

Those were the famous words of Spring Dawn, one the first astronauts to successfully test the Sparkle Drive thousands of years ago. I had to admit, she was right.

The Sparkle Drive was the product of an ancient engine design that used highly advanced teleportation magic for faster than light travel. It was named after the legendary scholar, Twilight Sparkle, who first theorized that objects and ponies could be successfully transported en masse with sufficient magical power. It was not until 850 years after her death, however, that her theory could be tested.

In 1979 E.C. a landmark experiment was performed to test Twilight’s theory. It involved seven volunteers, decorated members of the Equestrian Space Exploration Program (ESEP), who boarded a land based starship equipped with the drive’s prototype. Upon first activation, the results were at first concluded to be disastrous. The drive had activated successfully, but after the brilliant explosion of magical energy, the drive had left a perfectly spherical crater at ground zero, 30 meters in diameter. The Twenty minutes that followed passed in absolute silence as the control room desperately waited for a response to their pings. The mission was nearly declared a failure, a tragedy that had cost the lives of seven brave explorers, when the radio crackled back to life. Spring Dawn was on the line and her message was simple:

“Spring Dawn to mission control. We made it. It felt like being flushed down the loo.”

The success of the Sparkle Drive enabled the launch of the first orbital colony, Equestria One, during a time when overpopulation, war and famine threatened to extinguish the races of Equestria. The invention of the drive proved to be the salvation of the planet, and it all happened because of a brilliant little librarian.

Well, if there was a feeling of being a piece of space feces flung halfway across the galaxy, I had just experienced it. The universe righted itself as the Scrap Bandit popped into existence with an explosion of light and magic. Travelling via the Sparkle Drive always made me feel strange. I suppose that there was something about folding the fabric of space-time to travel many light-years in the space of a few seconds that the body simply did not agree with.

Slightly dizzy from the jump, I took a moment to let my head settle and gazed out the Bandit’s viewport to the starscape beyond. Luna Six was gone, and the colony’s hulking frame with it. In their place, the stars shined in the vast open reaches of space, some veiled in a myriad of nebulous clouds, like gems in a sea of tranquility. I marveled at the sight, staring for a few minutes as my heart rate returned to normal. I was alive, and I had escaped, at least for now. It was a good start.

Something was off however. As beautiful as the scenery was, my intended destination was nowhere to be seen. I used my WAND to bring up the ship’s star chart. It flickered a few times before it finally produced a holographic layout of the galaxy, and using the ship’s sensors, gave a rough approximation of my location.

I had moved in the right direction, but I had undershot my destination by a factor of six. Knowing the Scrap Bandit, I was not surprised. Junkyard did build it out of leftover parts from his salvage yard, and what was available there was not usually high quality. According to the map, I was still within the Pegasus cluster, but even with readouts of my intended destination the authorities would be hard pressed to find me. I was heading to the Earth Pony Rim worlds, a sector that was decidedly outside the PPB’s jurisdiction and notorious for being uncooperative with other governments.

Before I could go anywhere however, I needed to ensure the Sparkle Drive would survive another jump. Unlocking my harness, I made my way to the back of the cockpit and into the access corridor beyond. Next to the airlock, I opened up a small hatch in the floor that revealed a short ladder down to the maintenance deck. I floated down, being careful not to bump my head.

The Engineering deck of the scrap bandit was modular in design. It consisted of a small workspace squeezed between the cargo bay, the thrusters, the sparkle drive and auxiliary storage for whatever didn’t belong in the cargo bay. The sparkle drive was located near the back inside a small, cramped room. It was an intimidating piece of arcane tech that emitted a steady, rhythmic thrum when it was powered.

To my immense relief, the Sparkle Drive was undamaged, as far as I could tell anyway. I wasn’t exactly a tech. All I really knew was how to fly, not how to fix the damn thing if it broke. I was a pilot, I pushed buttons and made things go. It didn’t take a genius to see when something was wrong after all.

I looked up at the drive and smiled. Standing before me was freedom as much as it was worth. I had no food, no water, and only 24 hours of breathable air before the scrubbers in my suit would start failing. I also had a warrant for my arrest and likely had my pilot’s license permanently revoked within pegasus sovereign space.

I had a working ship however, and with that, I could do anything.

Notice: 94% Remaining...

03 - Chapter Three: Work

Chapter Three

Work

“Fillies, gentlecolts, it is my grave responsibility that I bring you a simple message: we do not have enough. The world as we know it is crumbling, not from the horrid machinations of war, nor the devious workings of tyranny and violence, but from the silent killer, a simple, almost pleasant word. Logistics. The world’s resources are rapidly depleting at unprecedented rates. There is not enough for all. So it falls to you, scientists, magicians, and engineers, to pioneer the next step in our evolution. We have work to do.”

-Establishment of Outer Planetary Exploration Committee - 2151 E.C.

Now to tell you a story about ships and maintenance. Every ship needs maintenance, especially a ship like the Bandit. One of the first things they teach you in pilot training is that having a ship is like having a foal. You have to feed it, clean it, care for it and lovingly put up with the crap it shoots at you if you’re not extra careful. It’s all part of the job. Neglect anything and the wrong part goes haywire at right time, and soon enough you find yourself floating in a glowing pile of parts with no hope of rescue. Keeping your ship in good shape can be the difference between life and death, and to keep it that way that you need income. And to get that income, you have to find work.

Work is the leash of freedom. As much as I’d love to wave goodbye to my days as a wage slave, I recognize that what freedom I enjoy comes at the cost of the blood, sweat, and tears I am willing to invest to make it that way. You can’t go far from work and still be free, well. Unless of course you’re rich, then you could do you what you damn well please. But for the rest of us, life is easier knowing that you have some way to pay for your next meal. Or better yet, a place to sleep.

Now of course there are different kinds of work, each with varying degrees of freedom. The rich can fly on their own dime, doing what they please as they please. They’re real entrepreneurs with the wits and balls to chase after the kinds of jobs that would leave most ponies in the poor house just for attempting. They have the most freedom. They have freedom to choose what they fly, where they fly, when they fly and how they fly. Sadly, not all of us can be so lucky. Ships eat bits like foals eat cereal, and for everyone else, flying on your own dime just isn’t an option. After all, we have the choice of eating, buying the next load, or fixing up the ship. And if you don’t fix up the ship every time, then you might as well be flying a stick of dynamite.

For the rest of us, we don’t fly on our own terms. We fly on the terms of those who can afford to pay us. Now granted if you own the ship outright then you have some leverage to negotiate, but again, that’s a rich pony thing. Smart ponies can spin deals in their favor, hide their costs and leave the table with a nice margin and perhaps a few beers to go with it.

Then of course, there’s not owning the ship at all. If someone else owns your ship, all you become is a glorified mailmare. You’re not flying the ship. You’re just delivering it to each location on your route. Picking up mail, dropping it off, delivering packages and completing tasks. Everything you do is dictated by the one pulling your strings. It's consistent paying work if you don't mind the boredom of docking queues, but Celestia help you if you actually want to do something during your flights. The pay is enough to get you through the next day, and that’s about it.

To fly you need work.

I had no money, or at least not enough to maintain a ship on, and I had no work. What I did have was a helpful little timer reminding me that I had just under 10 hours of air left.

I was screwed.

It took the better part of 8 hours and six consecutive jumps to reach the Earth Pony Rim Worlds. Once out there, I felt I could breathe a little easier, and started taking my time trying to find a station or colony to dock at. That was a mistake. I thought it would be easy, but, as it turned out, pegasi aren’t exactly the most popular ponies in the galaxy. Most of the stations I contacted took one look at my ship ID and charged the station batteries, a not too nice method of informing me my kind was not welcome there. Those few colonies that didn’t want to scrap me the moment I jumped on grid simply informed me that my ship would be confiscated if I docked there. I balked at that. Searching for a station that would admit me left me jumping all around the entire sector, until I had to start looking around the bleeding edge of the Earth Pony colonized space. By that time I was getting frantic. My suit could only support about 24 hours of breathable air, and I was getting dangerously close to the tail end of that by the time I finally made port at a colony called Winter's Edge.

“Scrap Bandit to Docking Authority. Scrap Bandit requesting docking instructions.”

There was a long pause as I waited for the tower’s response.

“Say again?” The tower responded.

Okay...

“Scrap Bandit to Docking Authority. Scrap Bandit requesting docking instructions.”

I thought I heard the buck on the other end chuckle, and then mutter something away from the microphone that sounded suspiciously like ‘stupid fucking pegasi.’

“Just wait right there Scrap Bandit, we’ll have docking instructions for you shortly.”

There were a few more chuckles, some repressed snorts, and then finally my WAND beeped with new instructions from the tower.

It was an image.

I won’t describe it, but the tower thought it was hilarious. I facehoofed and took a position behind a mass of ships heading for one of the open hangars, while the tower howled in fits of raucous laughter.

“Perverts.” I grumbled, cutting the C-Band.

I wasn’t sure what to do at that point, so I decided that the best thing to do might be to just wait and see. I waited for the better part of an hour, not moving, just clicking my hooves against the deck of the cockpit while I waited for the tower to give me something that didn’t involve ancient exotic literature. From my position outside the docking perimeter, I watched as a fleet of starships began forming ranks for a mass jump. Then, in a blinding flash, they vanished. Off to wherever in the universe they pleased, in likely many fewer jumps than it would take the scrap bandit to go.

Sullenly, I continued waiting, while watching my air supply continue to tick into the red.

A shuttle sailed past me headed toward the hangar, and that was the last straw.

Procedures be damned, I thought, steering after the shuttle. The C-Band flared back to
life as soon as I started moving again.

“Scrap Bandit you haven’t received docking instructions yet.” The buck chuckled. I heard another muffled snort in the background noise. Alright, fuck that.

“Tower, my ship is heavily damaged, out of atmosphere, and my emergency life support is nearly depleted. Stop fucking around and get me into queue!” At that, the laughing in the background quieted. I couldn’t see or hear what they were doing on the other end, but I had a sinking feeling that my ship was being scanned.

“Scrap Bandit there is no queue.” The tower controller said a few moments later.

“What?” That didn’t make sense. There was always a
queue.

“Docking is at will, Scrap Bandit. Now hurry up and get your stupid ass in here before you up and croak.”

Oh you have to be kidding me.

The tower continued.

“You’re not from around here are you?”

Well in truth I had never been outside Pegasus space before. I never thought procedures could have been different or a great many other things for that matter.

Another thought struck me.

If docking was at will what was the point in having a tower? I decided to dwell on that later.

“Scrap Bandit, proceed to Hangar two.” The tower said.

“Hangar two, aye tower.” I responded. The C-Band cut out with a pop. A moment later my WAND chirped and lit up, displaying an entry vector for an industrial hangar on the far side of the station. I sighed and steered the bandit along the course.

the course was a simple, optimized route suited to my ship’s size which led me on a fairly direct route straight to the hangar. In a way, a little too direct. I slowed down as I nearly clipped yet another outcropping. Eventually, I spotted the luminescent glow of the docking shield, and breaking course, directed myself toward it. I felt a familiar tingle as I crossed the threshold of the shield, and my body reacted to its potent magical energy.

Hangar two was massive.

From the gigantic freighters entering and exiting at regular intervals, to the small blocky industrial ships zipping between them, the sheer size of the hangar was only emphasized by how it made everything else seem small in comparison. Ships of all shapes and sizes zoomed about, freely entering and exiting without a care in the world, some making passes between each other close enough to make me cringe. There was no order there, It was just a chaotic mass of ships with feet-thick armored plating, occasionally buzzing shields as they zipped past at reckless speeds.

Navigating the maze of industrial ships and transport barges had me ducking under freighters and dodging small shuttlecraft. Once or twice I received an angry ping from the shuttle drivers, shouting insults for near misses. If anything it kept me on my toes. I quickly learned that getting anywhere in that mess meant throwing my weight around, and I’ll admit it wasn’t something I was going to do lightly. In an unshielded barge like mine, I might as well have hung a sign on it saying “crush me.”

So I cheated. After a few minutes of wandering about lost in traffic, I spotted a small ship of a similar size to mine, casually drifting toward the hangar and pulled up alongside it. It was a trash barge bearing an advertisement touting its waste disposal services [Smelly Socks Space Waste “You Buck it We chuck it.”] and seemed to know where it was going. I kept close on its tail, using it as a shield against the other hulking ships.

To a degree, my plan worked. While I was not entirely successful at tailing the garbage scow, shadowing him got me past the entrance traffic and toward the docks. The trash ship pilot was not pleased. When I finally broke away, he flared his burners at me, the starship equivalent of ‘go fuck yourself.’ I dipped a wing in salute. Thanks buddy, you too.

Once through the gate traffic I made my way into the docking area. Long catwalks extended out from the docking platforms to meet some of the larger ships, while the smaller industrials moored in between them. Convoys of shuttles and cargo lifts made trips to and from the freighters suspended in the center of the hangar, each loading cargo and passengers on and off of the behemoths. I took a moment to admire some of the massive container ships, one in particular caught my eye.

It was a massive ship that dwarfed everything in the hangar by a large margin. Too big for any of the industrial docks, it was instead being serviced by a veritable fleet of cargo and maintenance lifts, rapidly preparing its next shipment for departure.

Elsewhere, ships were packing into the docks in uneven rows and highly uneven compositions. Large ships parked along smaller ones, which nestled into the gaps and ledges between them. While it was nothing too small for the Bandit, the proximity to the other ships unnerved me. The most of the docks were very active, and the ships were parked close enough to easily scrape hulls. From what I knew about Earth Pony ship construction, I wanted none of that.

I decided to find a quieter parking area. One that didn’t look like a single mistake would turn me to paste. It was much harder than I thought, but eventually I managed to find one.

I spotted a small docking ledge crammed between a pair of bulky, armor plated haulers. It was a cozy fit, but roomy enough for me to be comfortable parking the Bandit, and far less active than the rest of the hangar. Idly I wondered just what kind of shipping those haulers did that required such heavy plating. Then, I got a better look at one of them as I settled into the ledge. Sitting on the underside of one of the heavy haulers was a pair of nasty anti-ship repeating cannons gleaming from its underside. As I got closer I noticed similar weapons were embedded into the ship on its dorsal side as well, hiding beneath small armored hatches in their presently inactive state. Involuntarily I shuddered. A single hit from one of those things would pulverize a ship like the Bandit. I could not imagine what a full on barrage would do. As the clamps extended, I kept a wary eye on the guns, making sure they weren’t tracking me.

I felt the docking clamps lock into place and I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding. While I had to admit the act of just finding an open spot was convenient, there was something about it that just didn’t sit well with me. The chaotic nature of the hangar was disturbing, having spent so much of my piloting career in the relative ease of the almost bureaucratic pegasus docking system. It almost felt like idling behind the mind numbing line of ships waiting to dock was somehow a necessary procedure. This free-for-all had the potential to go horribly and disastrously wrong, but, I had to credit them, was much more efficient. No lines, for one, that was a nice bonus. But was it worth the risk?

I pondered that while I unstrapped and headed to the airlock. There, I came to an unsettling conclusion. Procedures were comforting, if tedious.

I keyed open the airlock and stepped out onto the flimsy hull of the Bandit, closing the hatch behind me. From there, I kicked off to the platform below, and landed on its surface with a magnetic ‘thuck’.

The Docking platform was unlike anything I had seen before. It was rusted for one, and that bothered me. Where the airlock would have been on L6 was a solid wall, replaced instead by a central staircase descending into the guts of the station. Directly in front of the staircase was...

A tree.

There was a tree on the docking platform. There were also ponies milling about the platform preparing to board shuttles for the other ships in the hangar, all without their helmets, and most staring in my general direction, probably wondering what the idiot on the dock was doing gawking at the tree.

I imagined that I looked pretty silly.

I keyed the latches on my helmet and removed it, taking an irritated breath of acrid smelling air before trotting down the staircase, grumbling. The other ponies on the docking platform returned to what they were doing.

Razzle frazzle fruckin ruckus.

Already irritated, I trudged down the staircase and across a wide catwalk underneath the platform toward the station entrance. There I stopped.

The entrance to the station was a reinforced blast door with a sturdy, trapezoidal frame. A sign above it glowed warmly in neon orange letters, fizzing occasionally.

Welcome to Winter’s Edge. It read. To the right of the door was a steel placard:
Apple Industries Production Facility 729.

Food production. Perfect.

I trotted inside, disengaging the magnets in my boots as I crossed the entrance threshold. A small door just past the entrance admitted me to the station.

As the door closed behind me, I was immediately greeted by claustrophobia.

I had entered a very plain looking hallway. The steel walls had been painted a two color white and beige with few decorations. Tracklights were set into the floor on either side of the walkway at even intervals. The hall had no doors, no decorations, was somewhat dirty and appeared almost rusted in the sickly yellow lighting. Detritus from the hooves of a thousand ponies kicked around on the floor, including what appeared to be paper from some unfortunate pony’s briefcase. A small maintenance bot was crawling over near the far door, attempting to scoop the remainder of said paper into its forward wastebin and failing horribly. Judging by the larger debris sitting around it, it had probably been doing that for quite some time.

That said, the hallway would not have been that bad were it not for the ceiling. The ceiling was too low. It barely had headroom, and was low enough that it started the muscles of my wings itching every time I thought about it. Dread crept into my spine, thinking that I might not fly for a long, long while.

Ignoring the maintenance bot, I plodded up to the door, which opened automatically and admitted me into a, thankfully, much wider hallway. The ceiling, however, had not changed. What did, change was the smell. Something like baked apples wafted through the air, smelling like the apples they would occasionally sell at the grocery store on L6-C, but somehow better.
.
My stomach rumbled; a familiar sensation I had been putting off for my entire trip came back in full force.

I was starving! I followed the smell which ended up coming from an advertisement featuring ‘Granny Apple’s Baked Apple Pies’. My heart sank, mixing with anger and awe as I tried to quell the tide of saliva building in my mouth.

“Those evil, magnificent bastards.” I said in wonder, swallowing. A pony passing me gave me an odd look while continuing on his way. Only a truly evil pony would bombard hungry pilots with food smells after a long trip.

Or a very rich one.

I shook my head and left the advertisement where it was, now feeling even more hungry than before. Searching around, I spotted what appeared to be a station directory, built as a divider in the center of the hallway. I trotted up to it and started browsing. Food, food, food court! Perfect. And close by at that. I plugged the coordinates into my WAND and off I went.

I followed the corridors to the food court, just a few minutes away, and by that time I was damn hungry. Having spent the last few minutes fantasizing about fresh Earth Pony food choices, I was practically drooling by the time I entered the court proper.

The food court could hardly be called that. Though, mercifully, it had some head room to work with. The food court was a two-story area crammed with ponies ordering any number of foods from the many stands packed into the center. It was a long, wide hallway, much wider than the regular corridors, with some fancier shopfronts selling much more expensive foods. The second floor featured a few tables and chairs, occupied of course, which looked like a dining area for the more expensive restaurants on the upper deck.

I had never seen anything like it before.

I tried to order something from one of the stands and was simply ignored, and then asked to leave saying that I was ‘bad for their business’. Eventually I spotted an open stand for lack of customers. Figures, it was run by a Pegasus. At least he looked friendly.

“Hey,” I said, trotting up to the stand. The peach colored owner looked up from behind his stand in something akin to shock. He had a fritter for a cutiemark, very promising.

“A… a customer.” He stammered. I gave him my best smile. The Pegasus smiled back hopefully.

“Yeah, and I’m starving. What’s on the menu?”

“Oh… uh… well.” Okay maybe not so promising. “Heh sorry. I sell fritters. And other stuff. Just, um. Whatever sells.”
I raised an eyebrow. The Pegasus sighed.

“Business isn’t too good around here.” He said plaintively. “I do what I have to, to get by.”

“Right.” Poor buck, then again I could identify. “That makes two of us I guess. What do you recommend?”

“The fritters of course. Everything else is… well. Lets just say I don’t exactly get the best choices around here. The locals won’t sell me any good stock.” Wait… locals?

“You’re not from around here?” I asked.

“No, I booked a flight from the PC a few years back. I figured I could make some money out here.” he sighed. “Damn wrong I was.”

“No kidding.”

“How about yourself?” The Pegasus turned from his stove and served up a nice hot fritter on a small plate and set it down in front of me. It smelled... well it was the best he could do with what he had. I couldn’t fault him for that.

“Just flew in from the PC myself.” I bent down and took a nibble. It tasted like cardboard stuffed with overripe peaches. So on my empty stomach, controversially delicious.

“That’s quite a trip… wait. You’re a pilot?” He brightened.

“Yep.” I smiled.

“Wow… I thought only rich ponies could afford to get their license out in the PC.”

“I had a sponsor.” I replied.

“Who sponsored you?”

“Junkyard’s Scrap Yard.” His expression changed from ‘happy to see me’ to ‘concerned pity’.

“That’s… You’re Horizon aren’t you?”

“My reputation precedes me.”

“No it’s just… you seem nicer than I’ve heard.” Ouch. Well, so much for my reputation.

“Gee, thanks.” Congeniality fading… fading...

“You’re welcome.” Faded. “So what happened?”

“I ran into some trouble back in the cluster.”

“I see. Well that’s too bad. Hopefully you’ll fare better around here than I did.”

“Agreed.” I took another mouthful. The taste was not getting any better. worse yet, my mouth was starting to dry out.

“By the way that’ll be forty bits.” Okay… wait. WHAT?

“Forthy?” I sputtered. Crumbs sprayed out of my mouth and bounced off the counter top.

“I have a stand to run.” The Pegasus said shrugging his head. You could get a meal on L6 for less than ten. But, then again the poor guy was stranded. Aww, to hell with it. I shook my head and produced a bit stick. He took it and waved it through the scanner. The stick beeped as the credits were deducted.

“Add ten.” I said, feeling generous. He looked at me in surprise. The food was garbage, but it was garbage for a reason. That, and he was the first friendly face I had seen since getting there. It was a welcome change from the flight in and the odd looks in the docking area.

“Just do it.” I asserted. The bitstick beeped again.

“Thanks.” He said. Returning the stick.

“No problem, just don’t get used to it.” I replied. I finished off my fritter and the pegasus took my plate, adding it to a stack of dishes in a tub behind his stand.

“By the way, know where I can find some work?” I asked.

“That depends on what kind of ship you’re flying.” The buck said.

“A salvage barge, small cargo.” It was more salvage than barge in my opinion.

“Oh, well, in that case... you might try the shipping offices, but for a ship your size I doubt you’ll have much luck there.”

“Why is that?”

“Well one you’re a pegasus, and two you fly a scrap barge. You’ll need a bigger ship if you want to get a shipping contract. Provided they don’t kick you out on principle.”

“Right.” I sighed. “Where are the shipping offices?”

“A directory could tell you, provided you know what to look for.”

“Know of any other leads?”

“Well... you might be able to score a smaller private contract if you’re lucky. I’ve heard some of the pilots that roll through here talk about them.” I raised an eyebrow.

“At the other stands of course.” The owner lamented, and then spotted someone over my shoulder.

“Oh hi Eightball! the usual?” He smiled at the new arrival.

“Sure,” a dark gray buck said, cheerfully taking the seat next to me. I took that as my cue to leave.

“Thanks for the food.” I said.

“My pleasure.” The stand owner replied. “Oh and if you manage to get in with one of the shippers, put in a good word for me?” He added hopefully.

“I’ll think about it.” I said, while trotting back into the mess of ponies.

Once out of the crowd I started looking for another directory. I found one set into the bulkheads between a pair of shops. Bringing up its holographic display, I started searching for the shipping docks, poking at the air with a hoof at where I wanted to zoom. The map moved in response, rotating and spinning with a few simple movements.

There.

Six floors up and about ten blocks away was an area labeled ‘shipping offices’.

I frowned.

The businesses listed in that area were all closed for the night according to station time. Although that did make sense, the shop next to the terminal appeared to be closing up as well.

“Well, so much for that plan.” I muttered. Plan B it was. I plugged in a request to find the nearest lodging. A few seconds and a few hoofclicks later I had my results.

Perfect.

There was a Tuck n’ Roll located six blocks away from the food court, and it was on the way to the shipping offices, if a couple floors in the wrong direction. I set a course for it with my WAND and let the thing work its navigational magic. My WAND processed my request for a moment before bringing up the AR matrix and pegging different objects around the room with little footnotes as to what they were. My attention leapt to the small arrow pointing to my right. I turned until the arrow disappeared, instead illuminating the door I needed to enter and marking it with a diamond shaped symbol. I smiled as I trotted forward.

Have WAND, never lost.

I followed the indicators plotting my route through the station until I finally arrived at the Tuck n’ Roll. The entrance was a small door labeled public housing, which led to a squarish room with a receptionist sitting behind an open air desk and several doors opposite. The receptionist was a bubblegum colored mare with a perky peach mane, and reading what I was certain was a trashy romance novel. I cleared my throat to draw her attention.

“You want som’n featherbrain?” She intoned, clearly annoyed. She was chewing on something that I hoped was bubblegum.

I nodded my head toward the TucknRoll, and with an irritated sigh, the mare, dubbed Cheery Smiles by the plaque on the desk, slipped off her chair, dipped beneath the counter, and after a few short moments, placed a keycard on top of it with her teeth.

“Corridor three.” She droned, pointing a hoof at the furthest door, and then returned to her reading.

I scooped up the card with my WAND and inspected it.

There was a brown smudge mark on the card where her teeth had been.

Not bubblegum. I thought grimly.

I stepped up to the door labeled 3 and waved the card across the reader. The reader beeped, and the door slid neatly open. I entered the little berthing space, and the door closed behind me.

The corridor was dimly lit and had one of the lights burned out on the far end, which popped and flickered at random intervals. Ponies were crammed into cubbies set into the walls on either side of the small dormitory, one to a cubby, while the snores of their occupants could be felt in the stale air. The smell wasn’t pleasant, something like body odor and puke, but after sleeping on my couch for so long, the fragrance was comfortingly familiar. Well, almost.

I paced down the room and flitted up to an open cubby near the far end. I shimmied in and performed the ceremonial Tuck’N’Roll routine. Tuck in, Roll over, Sleep. Tuck’n’Rolls sure lived up to their names. No food, no showers, no amenities, a just a hole in a wall where you could get something that passed for sleep for a few hours. Just pray the bucks near you didn’t snore too loudly.

I closed my eyes and tried to drift off, but even as tired as I was, I found the action difficult. Even lying in the dark side of the cubby, light still peeked around the cracks where my body did not quite obscure it, playing a flickering irritant to my eyes reflected tenfold by the unforgiving steel surface. I tried several things to get comfortable but nothing seemed to help. Eventually I simply gave up. The light was not going away, just moving around and getting brighter with every attempt I made, so instead I just focused on lying still and fighting off the nervous twichting of my wings. Eventually I drifted off.

That night lasted forever. I dreamt of police cruisers taking potshots at my ship, and of all the different ways I could have died, or worse been caught, in my escape attempt. It was a long night, but all things considered, at least I slept.

Morning was almost a blessing.

“Hey.” A gruff voice said in the back of my mind. It sounded more than a little irritated. I pictured Junkyard looming over me and decided to ignore it.

“Hey!” It said louder. Poke poke. Okay not a voice. I groaned and then shifted. The voice continued, somehow even more terse than before. “Time’s up. Get out.”

“I’m up, I’m up. Piss off.” I replied groggily. The room became brighter for some reason. Nope that was just me rolling over. Against my will. Oh crap.

My wings splayed out, but didn’t catch me in time. I hit the ground with a crunch as my cubby retracted into the wall and I tumbled head over hooves to the floor. The buck who woke me, I guessed the mare’s shift had ended, was already leaving through the corridor entrance by the time I recovered. I looked up in time to see his squat hindquarters disappear behind the steel door.

“Asshole.” I barked after him, and then balked. I was getting several cross looks from other residents of Cubbyville. I came to a steadfast conclusion.

The goddesses hate me. I thought.

I kept my head low as I stumbled back out into the cramped lobby. The buck was sitting behind the desk now. My irritation came to a boil as I approached the desk.

“Take this and shove it up your ass.” I threw the key card at him. He ducked, and came up grinning.

“Aww, did I ruffle your feathers birdbrain?” He sneered.

“Ruffle my feathers? Oh hell no, YOU PISSED ME OFF is what you did!” I shouted. I didn’t care. I didn’t care if I woke up all the ponies from here to Equestria Prime. I just wanted to vent all my pent up anger at this one buck who had the misfortune of waking me up on the wrong side of my morning.

I scraped myself off the corridor wall. Damn can earth ponies kick hard. Crumpled in a heap on the floor, I fumed. Even with the door closed I could still hear him cackling through the steel wall. Gathering myself, I gave the door a kick before leaving. Jerk.

Earth ponies suck. I decided. Feeling grumpy, I headed down the corridor to where the shipping offices were.

Several flights of stairs and many more cramped corridors later I finally entered the deck where the shipping offices were located. The offices were a series of low profile doors with brass plaques on them, all nearly identical save for the names on the plaques, and the engraved logos for the company each plaque represented. The offices were so ordinary looking that if I wasn’t navigating with my WAND I would have probably missed them entirely. The corridor was not any wider or longer than the ones I had just left, and aside from the plaques, looked identical to the rest of the facility. When I arrived I had been expecting to find something similar to the food court, with its much more spacious multi-tiered construction. Silently I wondered just how much of the facility was like this. The low ceilings were driving me crazy.

I checked my WAND for the station time. It was early in the morning, and the offices hadn’t officially opened yet. So I stood around for a few minutes, waiting.

“If you’re looking to find work you shouldn’t bother looking here.” Said a mare from behind me. I turned my head to her. She was, thankfully, wearing a flight suit like mine. Although something about her attitude portrayed some sort of disdain. Like she had just discovered a turd on the bottom of her hoof. It seemed fitting, seeing as she was a unicorn.

“And you’re an expert on this why?” I replied, already annoyed.

“Because ponies like you will never find work in this sector.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

“Cling to your delusions.” She snubbed me, her nose in the air like some fashion queen.

“And just what do you fly miss fancy pants?” Her eye twitched.

“If you must know, I fly the Gros Navire.” Something about that name seemed familiar.

“A Mastodon Class freighter which you must have seen coming into port.”

Oh. I recalled some very large lettering gleaming off the side of the largest ship in the hangar.

“So what, dear pilot, do you fly to have such terrible manners?”

“I...” I fought for words as I was still coming to grips that I was probably speaking to the most well paid pilot on the colony.

“I thought so.” Smooth move Horizon.

The mare walked up to the first door, levitated out a key card and waved it in front of a reader set inside the bulkhead. The reader beeped, and then admitted her.

“By the way.” She said, casting a look back at me. “My office is now open. Don’t bother coming in.”

Fuck.

The door closed behind her and audibly locked.

FUCK!

I stomped a hoof and glared at the door focusing the entirety of my hate at the pony inside. Rich bitch. I moved to the next door in line. This one a least, seemed to be open.

the door opened at my presence and I stepped inside the office of the Candy Cane Shipping Co.

The inside was a sparsely furnished office, complete with a desk, a plant and a small terminal set into the wall behind the desk. I suspected the plant was probably extra. Or breakfast. Several of the leaves had been nibbled. The red striped zebrony sitting behind the desk was regarding me with mounting distaste.

“Can I help you?” She said.

“Yes. I’m looking for-”

“Work? I’m sorry dear but our shipping roster is full for this month.”

“You don’t have anything at all?” I said, mouth agape. This just kept getting better and better.

“We’re full.” She insisted, leaning slightly back from her desk. Her disgust seemed to peak. ”Please leave.”

Well, at least she asked nicely. I left.

I tried my luck at the next door, and the next, and the next. Until I was all out of doors. The fifth door was particularly memorable. I had managed a nice conversation with the first shipping office owner who did not immediately turn me around in the doorway and/or have me escorted out by force, until the point at which I must have let a comment slip about how pretty she looked.
For the second time in 24 hours I scraped myself off the corridor wall. The hoofmarks were a bit difficult to explain to door six, seven, and virtually every door after that. It wasn’t until I entered the offices of Sofas and Quills Inc that I got a real lead.

The mare behind the desk gave me a once over, but showed none of the growing distaste the other office owners had. Instead she smiled. I felt something like hope stir as I did my best to return the gesture. It probably looked as awkward as it felt.

“I don’t have any work for you.” She began. Well that figured.

I sighed. “I’ll take my leave then. Good day.” I turned to leave.
“Not officially anyway.” She continued. I stopped and looked back at her.

Oh?

“Mega Millions has instructed me not to send any work your way, but I think she doesn’t know good labor when she sees it.” Mega Millions? Oh... the bitch.

“I’m not a laborer.” I corrected her.

“And you don’t have to be. I just need you to retrieve a parcel for me from a friend of mine near the processing levels.” Before I could respond my WAND beeped as it received new instructions.

“There, I’ve just sent you the location. Ask for Cinder Casserole. And do be quick. I’ll have a flight assignment for you when you get back.”

“I... okay... then.”

I left the office, still trying to figure out what had just happened. My gut instinct was telling me this was a bad idea, but, it was work, and flying would be involved eventually. Maybe this was just how things worked around here. Pushing my doubts aside, I followed the markers to my destination.

My destination was down.

Waaaay down.

Following my WAND’s directions I brought up the station map as I descended yet another level. Wherever this parcel was, it wasn’t nearby, and my WAND’s navigation had picked one hell of a route to get there. I descended level after level, staircase after staircase, each one leaving me more and more winded as I progressed.

A few more staircases, a corridor or two, and then another level, As I descended, the corridors slowly changed from clean and shiny, to more and more rusted and beat up the deeper I went. The sick feeling in my stomach continued to build. Actively, I ignored it, wanting to just get this over with as quickly as possible.

Finally, I rounded a corner and my WAND notified me that I had reached my intended destination. It was a very cramped alleyway that led to a small locked door at the far end. Like the rest of the station, I had no room to fly and more importantly there was nothing there. I tried knocking at the door and no one answered.

“Well, so much for that.” I muttered. My ear flicked at a noise from behind me.

I added things up in my head and came to a horrifying realization.

I was not, in fact, alone. There was a gang of seven or eight ponies directly behind me, all dressed in weatherworn barding and wearing confident toothy grins.

“That’s a nice shiny toy you’ve got there.” The lead mare said giving me an appraising look. She was a sand colored unicorn and from the look on her face, was liking what she was seeing.

Crap.

“Why don’t you hoof it over and we won’t leave you as a bloody scrape on the wall.”

Crap crap crap crap crap crap crap!

Fight or flight, fight or flight. No flight and no escape, therefore...

Stupidly, I charged straight at her.

She passed a look to her cronies and then smiled at me.

Uh oh.

The other ponies started laughing. I then realized I wasn’t getting any closer. I was floating three inches off the station deck wrapped in an sickly orange glow, matched by similar glow coming from the horn of the lead unicorn. She was wearing a wicked grin on her face.

“Welcome to Winter’s Edge.” She said.

Vainly I tried stretching my wings, only to find them paralyzed at my sides either from fear or the strength of the mare’s telekinesis. I was helpless, utterly and completely helpless. My mind could only focus on one coherent thought.

This was gonna suck.

I slowly accelerated forward toward the gang, and their eyes lit up in glee. Faster, and faster, and then, one of earth pony bucks stepped forward, spun, and kicked. I curled into a ball, and felt a pair of hooves crash into my sides. Pain arced throughout my body. I flew across the room, weightless, and smashed into the far wall with a thud and a sick crack. Orientation left me.

“One!” Called the first buck.

The world moved. I couldn’t tell which direction, just that I was moving faster than before. I flailed helplessly, and turned my head just in time to get a face full of horseshoe. My head rocked the other way and I felt something slam into my gut. I smashed into the ceiling, and then feeling my inertia fight me, slammed into the deck.

“TWO!” A mare said. I couldn’t tell which. At that point I don’t think it really mattered. Another kick sent me tumbling across the floor. I heard something in my leg break, and I kept rolling. There was more laughter, and a cacaphony of sound I couldn’t identify. I rolled to a stop, and then immediately started rolling the other direction, the ethereal pull dragging back to the gang.

The third one didn’t even bother to count. Neither did the rest. Their laughs became garbled, the world blurry. Something was oozing into my eyes turning my sight red, and still the sick sensation continued. Kick, pull, jolt, stop, repeat. Eventually I couldn’t even tell if I was moving.

All I could feel was pain. And then it stopped.

I hung limp and motionless before a gang of ponies that I could hardly see. I was barely conscious as it was. The unicorn was saying something. I couldn’t hear a thing. Then I fell to the floor in a heap. I coughed blood which pooled on the deck beneath my head.

More words, no understanding of what was said. The unicorn stood above me and reared. Hooves came up. Hooves came down. Pain exploded in my side. I felt warmth in my suit, as well as cool air, a sensation of liquid pouring from my nethers and something wet and warm reaching the side of my face.

My head lolled and I moaned. I got a good last look at the mare above me. She probably would have been pretty under different circumstances. Sand colored, but with green irises and a tousled cream mane. Hooves came up.

And then nothing happened. The mare turned to look at something. Maybe she thought better. I felt a kick roll me over into a heap, and then magic carelessly fling me away. I hit the ground and didn’t move.

The beating, at least, had stopped. I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe. My legs wouldn’t respond and slowly I could feel myself going numb. All I could do was stare at the ceiling, the walls, and what little I could see of the floor from my crumpled heap. I coughed and more blood oozed out of my mouth. I couldn’t even taste the copper any more. Pain was gone, replaced by a sensation of distance.

I felt myself drifting, darkness clawing at the edge of my vision, until finally, I checked out.

*****
Notice: 91% Remaining...

<-- Chapter 02 - Chapter 04 -->

04 - Chapter Four: Favors

Chapter Four

Favors

“SUCCESS! In a thrilling press release today, the Outer Planetary Exploration Commission has announced the discovery of a new habitable planet, only 50 years after its establishment. Dubbed Celestia’s Providence, this planet marks the first of many discoveries the organization hopes to accomplish. The world waits with bated breath for confirmation of the results.”

- ENN Special News Bulletin: Discovery of First Habitable Planet - 2202 E.C.

My couch was the perfect example of what a couch should be. It was satisfyingly lumpy, having none of that stuffy ‘new couch’ feel you get with newer furniture. It had no awkward stiff surfaces and no abrasive, coat-catching fabric. It was just a simple, worn out, comfortably plush piece of furniture with the substance of what I imagined clouds felt like. Of course every time I thought that, I would inevitably find the broken support bar inconveniently placed slightly off-center, which would then jam itself into my withers and remind me of the differences. Regardless, my couch was cozy. It was a cozy couch! It was nice and warm when you needed it to be, and yet worn out enough to be cool in all the right places. And then of course there was the smell. Granted while booze, barf and cigarettes leaves something to be desired, the pungent qualities of their odor fades over time leaving a wonderfully fragrant mix of ‘lived in’-ness that only the couch’s one true owner could appreciate.

I shifted gratefully in the warm, loving embrace of my couch, cuddling up to one of the lumps near the... wait. The lump was gone. So was the smell. For a moment I thought someone had dared to clean my couch, but I threw out that theory the moment I shifted position and discovered that the metal bar was gone too. The fabric scratched uncomfortably against my coat, and the cushions were... I gasped. Firm. Disgustingly, uncomfortably firm. What was more, this couch smelled new.

I gathered my evidence, and as the sole prosecutor and victim of this travesty, I presented my case before my mental jury. The defense made a valiant effort, protesting this, objecting and arguing, but I overcame! Time and time again, I pressed the defense with passion, wit and zeal, utilizing everything in my legal arsenal to prove my case. Facts were my ammunition. Logic was my weapon. The defense was powerless against me.

Finally, the jury broke for deliberations and I was left waiting in the courtroom for them to return. It took a long time. Whatever the jury was debating, the debate must have been heated, with much hoof waving and passionate arguing. More to the point, they were taking too long. The judge, highly irritated, passed the verdict in the jury’s absence.

This thing, I concluded with tremendous exhilaration, this abomination was not my couch.

Blearily, I opened my eyes, an action which I instantly regretted as the glare from the lights seemed to be somehow amplified by some mysterious force. The memories of the previous night slowly clawed their way back into my head.

I had been mugged. Well, more like beaten to a pulp. Come to think of it, it was a miracle I was still alive.

“What... happened?” I asked the couch. Not surprisingly, the couch did not reply. It was enough to fully jog my memory, however.

I should have died, I realized. That unicorn was going to kill me. Something had distracted her. Or someone.

I tried sitting up and groaned as pain lanced throughout my body. My head pounded like a rung bell in tandem with the rest of me. My body throbbed from head to hooves, a symphony of pain that played a jarring, dissonant tune. I sank back into the couch, grateful for its softness, even though it was firmer than I was used to. My aching body demanded more rest, and I decided to let it have its way. This time.

“Ugh... kill me.” I babbled into the couch cushions. I eyed the monstrosity I had woken up on.

The couch was white. Not truly white, mind you, but sort of an off-color white, that kind of eggshell white that you could point a hoof at and say, “that is white,” and find yourself doubting the truth of your own words.

White couches are ugly, I concluded. Though I suppose any color of couch other than drab green with dark splotches all over it would probably appear ugly to me anyway. On top of that, the couch was clean, and that bothered me even more. What kind of unholy, sadistic bastard cleans his couch? That observation drew my attention to the room.

The room was clean. Very clean. Everywhere I looked, things had been tidied up. The coffee table had been wiped and polished, its three stone centerpiece artfully balanced inside a square bowl; The wooden floor had been dusted and mopped; I couldn’t even see dust on the lampshades. Whoever owned the place must have either taken great lengths to keep it clean, or never stuck around to dirty it up. I placed a bet on the latter.

I heard a noise like a door opening nearby and I gingerly turned my head to its source, which in my condition ended up being more of an unsteady lolling motion. As the door opened, the lights came on with brutal, piercing brilliance. I then came to realization number two: I had a hangover.

Why did I have a hangover? I couldn’t recall drinking anything. Regardless...

“AARGH! LIGHTS! KILL THE LIGHTS!” I screamed, shielding my eyes from the burning glare with my hooves. Screaming was a bad idea. My voice reverberated in my head like a smashed gong.

“Hey you’re awake!” a familiar male voice said just a little too loudly. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever wake up.” The lights dimmed to just below tolerable. I groaned, cradling my head and squinting as my eyesight adjusted. A body was approaching me, details coming slowly into view as it got closer and my vision cleared. The body turned out to be a buck with a dark grey coat and a mauve mane. He had an eight ball for a cutie mark. It took me a moment to recognize him. He was the colt who sat down next to me at the pegasus’ food stand.

“Sorry about the lights,” he said. He was holding a glass of something I couldn’t quite identify on one hoof while walking gracefully on his other three legs. He set the glass on the small coffee table next to the couch and I got a better look at it. It was an ugly greenish drink with a sickly orange tinge.

“Drink this it’ll make you feel better.” The colt said, watching me expectantly. I swallowed a lump in my throat.

“Is it safe?” I croaked, examining the mutant mixture on the coffee table.

“Well it’s your choice, I’m not forcing you to do it or anything. I just thought you could do with some more meds after your little incident.”

“How thoughtful.” I took another glance at the drink, and in response a bubble floated to the surface and popped with a thick, audible blurp. I tasted bile in the back of my throat. “And how do I know it won’t try to strangle me on the way down?”

“Judging by your condition I’d say you wouldn’t mind.” He replied dryly. He grinned, an expression that I found more than a little irritating for some reason. Great, another pony to hate.

“Right, pick on the injured.” I groused. “I’m not drinking that.”

“Bah don’t be such a pansy, sure it tastes like shit, but it should help with that hangover. It worked for me anyway. That and it’s packed with meds. So it will help dull the pain.”

“Question. Why do I have a hangover?” I asked, one hoof still bracing my pounding head.

“I had to improvise on pain killers, sorry.” He paused for a moment. “So are you going to drink it, or...” He trailed off. I took another look at the drink. It did not look any more appetizing than before, but if it made the pain go away it might be worth it. My mental jury wanted to break for deliberations again. I decided to expedite proceedings.

“Yeah, sure whatever.” I said. I struggled to grip the glass with my hooves as I retrieved it from the squat table. Then, lifting the thick, gloppy concoction to my lips, I forced it down, gagging as the putrid liquid slowly slithered down my throat. It tasted like... you know... I’m not sure what it tasted like. At first it tasted like alcohol, almost like a sour beer, and then a moment later the flavor changed. It was like someone had put salt, pepper, eggs, toast, and a little coke-a-colta in a glass and shook it twice. I felt like I had just eaten breakfast, which was great because I had a pressing need to puke, and I would not want to do that on an empty stomach. A small bucket presented itself just in time.

“Don’t worry.” the colt said, smiling reassuringly as I emptied my stomach into the bucket he had nudged into position. “It’s a natural reaction.” I truly, truly began to hate this buck.

“Ugh... what just hit me?” I asked, returning to a sitting position and feeling dazed.

“It’s an old recipe from a friend.” The colt said, clearing away the bucket. “It was his version of a miracle cure. Like I said, it tastes like shit, but the meds help with any pain you might be feeling. It has one unfortunate side-effect though.”

“What’s that?” I asked, still feeling ill.

“It’ll cure you of hangovers.”

“I don’t feel any different.” Well that wasn’t entirely true, the headache had lessened very slightly, and I could already feel the meds kicking in. The pain in my body was dulling already.

“You’ll figure it out later.” He laughed.

My eyes had adjusted to the light, but my head still beat terribly, throbbing harder whenever my eyes strayed too close to a light source. I sat upright on the couch, squinting. The aftertaste of the sludge drink still burned on my tongue. I was getting thirsty for something that didn’t taste like a septic tank.

“You got any water?” I asked, desperate to wash away the flavor congealing in my mouth. Instantly, the buck produced yet another glass of liquid, this one clear. I took a cautious sip of this one just in case it was something worse. Thankfully, it was indeed water. I drank it greedily, but my stomach still lurched as it went down.

“It’s a natural reaction.” He repeated, laughing this time. That grin was getting on my nerves. I kept drinking. The water had been just what I needed, cool and refreshing, and more importantly, cleansing. The unique flavor of the drink went away, mostly. I could still taste hints of it on my breath. Satisfied, I set what was left of the water back down on the coffee table, and took a deep breath of mercifully fresh air.

“Why did you help me?” I asked.

“A favor.” he said, shrugging casually.

“Beg pardon?” I said.

“I did it for a favor.”

“I don’t follow.”

“The stand owner asked me to keep an eye out for you. I figured I owed him that much for all the free food he gives me.”

Well that was nice of him... waaait a minute.

“That and I need you for something.” I started to get up from the couch, but the buck stopped me with a hoof, gently pushing me back into my seat.

“Whoah whoah! not so fast! let the meds work. I had to set the bones in your legs and you’ve been out for the past three days while the doc did its work.” I stopped and sat back down.

“I’ve been out for three days?” I said, mouth agape.

“Yeah... you were in a really bad way. You were lucky I showed up when I did. Otherwise that mare would have finished you.”

Come to think of it I was dying... or should have.

“How did you fix me?” I asked. He pointed to a small machine next to the couch. It looked a little bit like the maintenance bot I had seen on the way in, but in place of its forward wastebin was a refrigerator with a glass door, holding some syringes, a couple bottles of reddish orange liquid and some small surgical tools. It took me a moment to recognize the odd-looking bot.

Well I’ll be damned. I had seen ponies use that kind of equipment in hospitals, but never privately.

“How did you get a clock doc?” I asked.

“I called in a few favors.” He said. Silently I wondered just what kind of favor would require stealing from a hospital. Then, I had a sobering thought.

Probably the kind I now owed him.

“I’m guessing I owe you a favor then.” A big, big favor.

“Quite a few I’d say, considering the amount of trouble you got yourself into. But don’t worry I won’t call them in immediately.” Something about that statement made me nervous. My wing twitched in response.

“My name is Nightshade, by the way.”

Wait a sec...

“I thought your name was Eightball.”

“That’s just what other ponies call me. I never really bothered to correct them. Cutie mark and all that. Keeps it simple.”

“I’ll say.”

“Just call me Nightshade. That’s what my friends call me.” If friends qualified as ponies who owed him big favors, I wondered what his enemies called him.

“My name is Horizon. I’m a-”

“Pilot, I know.”

“How did-”

“Fritter told me. You know, the stand owner?” Which reminded me...

“He gives you FREE meals?”

“To the ponies who help him out yeah.” He smiled.

“What about being stranded in the Rim! Can’t find good stock to make fritters and all that!”

Nightshade started laughing.

“HAH! Nah, that’s the same sob story he gives everyone.” That son-of-a-mule. “His fritters are terrible, though the part about the stock is about right. Earth ponies don’t sell their prime stock to just anyone.”

Well at least we agreed on something, his fritters really were terrible.

“How does he get by then?”

“Easy, he’s an information broker.”

“Information?”

“Bad fritters, no one wants to eat there, so that leaves him free to listen to what is going on at the other stands. You’d be surprised to see how many people roll through this sector and hear what they say while getting a quick bite to eat.”

“How do you know him then?”

“It’s a long story. Short version is, I set him up with the stand and a bit of sagely advice for a favor.”

He said it again: ‘Favors’.

“You get a lot of favors.” I said.

“It’s the way of the universe man. You gotta give in order to get something in return. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. It’s how things work around here. When you don’t have the bits to pay for it anyway.”

“So what do you want from me?”

“Oh that’s easy, I need you.”

“I’m flattered but I don’t cuddle colts.” I deadpanned. Nightshade facehoofed.

“Your ship,” he corrected, “I need your ship.”

“Not for sale.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not looking to buy, I just need a ride. Or two. Or three...” His grin came back in full force, I felt my brow twitch. “Or more, depending on how much help I need.”

So the price of my life was reliable transportation. I supposed that wasn’t so bad, all things considered. His damn grin though, why did I find that so annoying?

“First however, I think I’ll need to do you a few more favors before we can do that.” Suddenly, he had my full attention.

“What do you mean, ‘more favors’?” I said incredulously. Nightshade raised an eyebrow and placed a hoof on the center of his forehead. Subconsciously I imitated him.

From the moment I had woken up I knew something felt off. Mostly I had just assumed it was the fact that I had woken up alive on a nasty, disgusting, rotten excuse for a couch that wasn’t green and didn’t smell like something died on it. Feeling my hoof touch my forehead however alerted me to what really felt off. I scratched a spot I hadn’t touched in months. It felt glorious and terrifying at the same time. My eyes widened. My WAND was gone.

I felt naked. Alright ponies are usually naked but this was a different type of naked. Without the constantly itchy reminder of my WAND on my forehead I felt fundamentally wrong. I never took it off, not even to clean it. It was as much a part of me as my wings or a unicorn’s horn. It was convenient. It just, was. And I could barely function without it, much less fly a ship.

I shuddered to think what my dad would to do to me if he ever found out it had been stolen. Then I stopped, wondering why the hell that would bother me. Dad was gone, why would he care?

“I... Bu.. Y...” I sputtered uselessly, still grappling with the discovered theft. My eyes narrowed. “What did you do with my WAND?”

“What did I do with it?” He said, taken aback. “What do you think happened to it!”

The muggers took it. My WAND was my most valuable possession, even in as poor condition as it was. Just by being functional, it was worth a lot of bits. Hell, I could have probably lived handsomely if I had just sold the damn thing instead of flying, but then of course I would not have been flying and that just would not do. Now I couldn’t do either. I was stuck on a colony I didn’t know, with a ship I couldn’t fly and a not a bit to my name. Oh and I owed a buck a big favor for saving my life. There was that too.

“So what do we do? Do you know where it is?” I asked him.

“No. But...” Nightshade said, looking thoughtfully at one of the dimmed lamps in the corner, “I might know where to start.”

Trading information, trading favors, trading bits, I wandered about completely lost while following Nightshade from one contact to another, as we tried to get a bead on where my WAND had run off to. His so-called contacts turned out to be more ponies who owed him favors. They were ponies whom he had told to keep an eye out for juicy bits of information and the like. Ponies whom he had helped with either finances, or helped out of a tough jam, or, judging by one pair of mares, something else entirely.

We saw Fritter again, but that lead turned up moot. He had no idea where they might have taken it, but seemed in good spirits to see me still in the land of the living. I still managed to squeeze a few interesting details out of him, however. It turned out that Fritter’s full name was Crispy Fritter and the story he told me was mostly true. He did indeed travel from the PC to the Rim seeking his fortune, and he was right in saying that it was a mistake. He just left out the rest of the details. Like how Nightshade had taught him how to glean information from passersby and how valuable that was to others. The ‘other stuff’ he sold was information. The fritters were just a lousy side-business, an excuse to hang out in the food courts. Sadly, he didn’t have any good intel for us. Before we left, however, I did manage to ask him about why he sent ‘Eightball’ to look after me. Who would have thought that the price of one’s life was a 10 bit tip?

After Fritter, we hit up a few more of Nightshade’s contacts, and then stopped in at a supply store. Nightshade spoke at length with the owner, apparently getting into some form of a heated argument over some of the things he wanted to purchase. We ended up paying in bits. Apparently Nightshade’s favors didn’t fly terribly well with the store owners when it came to store product. Some things never change I guess. Our supplies consisted of a fresh flight suit (mine had been destroyed when I was mugged), another for Nightshade at my suggestion, and for some odd reason, soap. Nightshade declined to answer why we bought the soap, promising instead that he’d ‘tell me later’.

Eventually we stumbled into a Donut Joe’s to meet another one of his contacts, and to get something to eat. His contact, apparently, was the owner.

I sat at the bar while Nightshade talked to his contact. I really couldn’t hear what they were saying, nor did I care. After contact fifteen I had stopped wondering how many favors these ponies owed the buck and started wondering how much of the station didn’t owe him a favor in some way or another. I was confident that list would be pretty short.

The bartender leaned over the bar, while I munched on a sandwich I had received ‘free of charge’.

“So, ol’ Eightball’s got you on his favors list as well eh?” The barkeep asked. The barkeep was a white and sand unicorn with a martini glass for a cutie mark. He was levitating a glass in the air with his magic and wiping it with a questionably stained rag. Odd, all of his contacts kept referring to him as ‘Eightball.’

“Is it that obvious?” I responded, taking a bite of my sandwich. It wasn’t exactly fine dining, but in comparison to the fritter it was much better. Truly, truly terrible fritters I mused. I took another bite.

“Well he doesn’t just drag anypony around kingdom come unless you’ve got something he wants. How long have you been at this?”

“All day.” I answered. The bartender stopped polishing the glass for a moment and blinked.

“Really now?” He said. “Wow, you must have something he really wants.”

“No kidding. Considering this is the second favor he’s doing me.” The barkeep set the glass down.

“No shit?” The barkeep set the glass down and leaned in, raising an eyebrow. “What he’d do for you?”

“Saved my life, I think. Some gang tried to kill me down on the processing levels while I was on a job from one of the shippers.”

“Interesting.” He murmured. Okay that was getting annoying.

“What’s so interesting?” I asked.

“Just that he bothered.” I was mid-bite when I stopped and set the sandwich back on my plate.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Don’t get me wrong. Yer damn lucky Eightball turned up for ya. It’s just that,” The barkeep paused, to make sure that Nightshade wasn’t looking in his direction, or listening. He was still talking to his contact. Apparently they were arguing about something I couldn’t hear. “Eightball doesn’t do just anypony a favor like that, much less two. You’re in for the long haul if he’s that interested in ya.”

I swallowed. Come to think of it, he had been extraordinarily kind. Unnaturally kind. And he gave me a different name. I had to consider that as well. The barkeep leaned in even closer, almost whispering.

“Sometimes I’ve even heard some ponies turn up dead around him. Favors and all that.” That... didn’t bode well. The barkeep nodded to himself, chancing a glance at Nightshade and then back at me.

“You be careful around that one.” He said, voice low. “Don’t let him do too much for ya.” He leaned back, and picked up the glass again, inspecting it. Then, he proceeded to polish again as if nothing had happened.

“Just sayin.” He added.

Nightshade returned without notice.

“How’s the sandwich?” He said, frowning. Frowning? When did this buck frown?

“It’s... uh... good?” I offered. For a fraction of a second Nightshade cast a suspicious eye at the barkeep and then returned his gaze to me. The barkeep pretended nothing was happening, though I could swear he started polishing his glass with a little more intensity.

“Well I think I figured out where your WAND is.” Nightshade said. I didn’t like his tone. He sounded troubled. “You’re probably not going to like this however.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, apprehensive.

“I was that hoping the gang that mugged you fenced it.” At my confused look he clarified, “Sold it on the black market.”

“That’s a good thing?”

“Well yeah,” He said, “If it hits the market we can just buy it back, or convince the vendors to hand it to us.”

“But they didn’t, so-”

“So, we’ll have to get it back personally. According to my contact, one of the local gangs has been gloating about some new fancy toy they recovered, and their leader is showing it off.”

Great. The muggers were parading it around like a trophy. That didn’t explain completely why he was frowning however.

“I’m guessing there’s more to this story than what you’re telling me.”

“We don’t know which one.” He said flatly. “I’ll have to call in a few favors for this.”

Favors, I was beginning to hate that word.

A few favors turned out to be two. The first, was a request to some shady dealer we met as we descended further and further into the station. Nightshade paid in bits, flashing a weird bitstick that was black instead of the normal slate gray. The dealer looked at it with a toothy grin, and then, after insisting that I step out, starting giving Nightshade some equipment from his stores. Whatever it was, Nightshade insisted on keeping it hidden in his saddlebags. I let it go. I probably didn’t want to know anyway.

We continued lower, and I started recognizing the territory. A wall here, some grafitti there, deja vu overwhelmed me as I came to an unsettling realization. We were heading back to the place where I was mugged. When I asked Nightshade if this was correct, he simply pointed out that I had inadvertently wandered into gang territory. He seemed surprised when I said I was on an errand for the shipping office.

“Really?” He said, glancing over at me as we walked.

“Yeah. She set up the coordinates and everything.”

“And you didn’t find that the slightest bit suspicious?” I hung my head, thoroughly embarrassed that I could be so stupid.

“Let’s just keep going.” I said.

About halfway there, we stopped and sidetracked. Instead of taking the stairs we began wandering through a set of hallways which were heavily laden with graffiti and absolutely filthy. Pictures of badly drawn, obscene gestures covered the walls, alongside scenes of explicit content and impressive, garishly colored signatures in large, stylized lettering.

Then we started seeing ponies.

We didn’t see many at first, just an earth pony here, or a zebra there. But as we went deeper and deeper into the station, more started showing up, often hanging around in groups or eyeing us with passing disinterest. One group almost approached us, but thought better and decided that the fire in the barrel they were hanging around was more interesting.

We passed two more corridors, and then the walkway opened up into a massive room. It wasn’t a room per say, it was more like the ponies living there had done some extensive remodeling. Walls had been knocked out, exposing the inner support struts and wiring inside, some had been cleared away completely in order to make room for the little gangs that hung out inside their makeshift living spaces. They had also punched through the ceiling, which in its ruined state, I could see several floors up. Eyes were watching us from where the light could not penetrate to upper decks.

the groups of ponies were much larger down here, accompanied by zebras, griffons, and all manner between. They went about their business, crowding around filthy looking stalls, shouting insults and doing their best to ignore each other. Or in some cases, just shooting the breeze.

I realized then, As I stood at the entrance to the massive room, that I was staring straight into the heart of the station’s underworld.

Our arrival had generated some curious glances, but little else.

“What is this place?” I asked Nightshade, nervously glancing at a pair of spikey haired zebras as they walked by.

“It’s an abandoned factory.” Nighshade replied. “A long time ago one of the businesses on the station went belly up and left. Then the gangs moved in.” He glanced at what used to be a wall. “Did a bit of remodeling while they were at it.”

“No kidding.” I muttered, staring at a hole in the floor. Exposed wires jutted out where the metal plating had worn away.

Off in the distance I heard shouting. Near the back was a walled off section of the floor made of fallen support beams and station debris. It was a squat, almost cage like structure, with only one visible entrance. A large mare bouncer stood in front of a squat iron doorframe, doing her best to look menacing. Nightshade took us toward her. The filthy, barding clad guard stopped us before her eyes opened in recognition.

“What do you w... oh hi Eightball. Got another one?” Wait what did she mean by ‘another one?’

“Yeah something like that.” Nightshade responded. “I’m here to see Clip.”

“She’s busy.”

“Oh come now, I think she can spare just a bit of time for an old friend.” Nightshade put on his grin again. The guard did not notice.

“How long you talking?” The guard asked.

“It’s important. that’s all you need to know.” The mare bouncer seemed to ponder this for a moment before stepping aside while shaking her head..

“Whatever y’say, crazy eight.” She admitted Nightshade, and then promptly placed a hoof in my chest as I tried to follow.

“Hold it winger.” She said. The cordiality she used with Nightshade was gone.

“He’s with me.” Nightshade interrupted. She glanced at him and considered me for a moment. Then, reluctantly, she stepped aside.

“Fine, but if he causes trouble it’s on your head.” She huffed.

I followed Nightshade into the facility.

It was a fighting pit. The shouting I had heard was a throng of ponies all crowded around the main ring, all watching two naked fighters duke it out. Judging from the sounds, it was a fairly good fight, that or incredibly one-sided. A collective ‘ooh’ rose from the crowd, interspersed with howls of laughter and generous amounts of vulgarity.

Nightshade scanned the crowd, and then his eyes settled on his mark. He trotted through the crowd, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. I did my best to follow.

We approached a table on a makeshift dais overlooking the fighting pit. Behind it was an impressive griffon flanked by two earth pony guards in heavy barding. The griffon was a tan and bark coloration with several plumes of dark red forming her crown. More noticeable however, was her wing. Her left wing had been hacked off at the secondaries, the remaining stub poking out at an awkward angle. The griffon was watching the fight with barely contained enthusiasm, slamming the table with a taloned fist in tandem with the fight and calling out jeers that were lost in the din of the crowd. More of the odd black bitsticks sat in a small pile on the table, and with each strike of her taloned fist, they bounced closer and closer to the edge. The guards eyed them nervously, or enviously. I really could not tell, guard stuff and all that.

“Heya Clip!” Nightshade called out to griffon over the crowd. The griffon looked around at the mention of her name before her gaze settled on Nightshade. A broad smile broke over her beak.

“NIGHTSHADE!” She called back. I stopped, shocked at hearing that name. “Good to see ya old buddy! How’s it goin?”

“Not so great Clip, I need to call in a biggie.” The smile on her beak abruptly disappeared. She motioned to her guards to watch the table, and then turned toward a room behind the dais.

“Follow me.” She said.

She led us into a small back room away from the pit, carved out of the station wall. The only thing in it was a beat up desk and a chair. Clip checked to see if we were alone, and then, satisfied, sat down facing us.

“What’s up?” She asked, pulling a cigar from somewhere beneath her plumage. “Does it have to do with him?” She pointed the cigar in my direction. Instinctively, I took a step back. She smirked. “He doesn’t look very tough to me.” She cut the cigar with her beak and spat out the end on the desk. and placing the rest of the cigar in her mouth.

“Yeah, this poor buck got his ass beat while working for some shipping office.” Nightshade explained. “Some of the other gangers stole his WAND and we need to get it back. Know anypony we’re looking for?”

Clip frowned. “I might... yeah. I do.” She popped out a lighter and lit up, taking a short drag before returning said lighter to her plumage. She held the cigar in one hand, propping up her arm with the other.

“One of my gangs decided to strike out on their own. Said they’d had enough of my rule or some crap like that.”

“You let a gang do that? You’re slacking Clip.”

“Now, now don’t get ahead of yerself Shady. I’ve been far too busy to deal with them, and somehow they’ve picked up some new digs.”

“Digs?”

“Yeah, like legit digs. Armored barding and stuff like that I don’t supply. Weapons. Oh yeah, and drugs.” That seemed to set Nightshade on edge.

“Drugs?” He asked, voice lowered.

“Drugs.” She repeated. “I don’t know where they get it, I just know that if I don’t do something about it soon I’m gonna have a real problem on my hands. They’ve been edgin’ out my dealers. Bad for business.”

“So who’s the breakaway?”

“Some bitch of a unicorn named Daisy Dawn or somesuch. She’s not important really, just a nuisance. Her and that pack of rats she calls a gang.”

“How many of them?”

“Just eight. But their success has been gettin ‘em support from the other gangers here in the pit.” She puffed her cigar and then put it out on the desk, leaving a big sooty black spot on its surface.

“I guess you’re in luck then.” Nightshade smiled. Clip smiled back.

“So you really are calling in that favor. Well, I hope it’s worth it.”

Nightshade smiled. “It is.”

“You know I can’t spare any of my gang right? I can’t involve them in this, they gotta keep the peace here,” She laughed, “for what it’s worth.”

“I know. I just need you.” Nightshade said. The griffon nodded.

“Right. I’ll get my things and meet you two outside.” The griffon stood up and left. Nightshade simply looked at me, putting on that irritating grin of his.

“Let’s go get your WAND.” He said.

As promised, Clip met us outside and together we made our way back to where I had been mugged. The area, I learned, was exclusive to Daisy’s gang, lead by the very unicorn who nearly killed me during my little beatdown.

Nightshade led the way, leaving me and Clip to follow a short distance behind. Just out of earshot, I took the opportunity to ask Clip a burning question.

“Hey uh... Clip?” The griffon gave me a sidelong glance.

“Yeah what’s up?” She said.

“You call him Nightshade, why is that? All the other ponies I know call him ‘Eightball’”

The griffon guffawed, a husky yet sonorous sound.

“Eightball is what all the other ponies call him.” I was silent for a moment.

“So I’ve heard. But why do you call him Nightshade?”

“Because that’s his name.” Thank you, Captain Obvious.

“Well, yeah. But. He never bothered to correct other people, why you?”

“Let’s just say I owe him big time.”

“Mind if I ask why?” The griffon thought about that for a moment and then answered.

“Well seeing as yer in as deep as me, why not.” She paused, taking a deep breath.

“Before I ran the underground I used to work for a buck called Loose Ends. Incompetent git really. Never really gave orders, never minded his own damn business, and he always stuck his fat arse in the wrong things at the wrong time. So, Loose made himself an enemy of pretty much everypony involved with the underground in some way or another.

Loose hired me as his security detail. My job was to protect the idiot from himself. That eventually evolved into me taking care of his business for ‘im. The brains of the operation if you will. I made Loose look good. I dealt with the gangers, placated his enemies, that sort of thing. And then I met that buck.” Clip pointed a talon in Nightshade’s direction.

“Shady over there found me in a bar. I guess I was a might bit drunk at the time, spoutin off about how I hated my boss and all that. And suddenly he goes into this whole big speech about ‘favors’ and shit like that. I didn’t really pay him much attention, just sort of nodded my head and kept drinkin. He offered to do me a favor and I said sure. I think, not sure really, most of that night is a blur. Anyway, next day, I get back to Loose, and Loose is dead.”

“Heh, ironic part is, nopony really noticed. I kept on running the show, eventually stepping up to where I am now. Shady and I crossed paths a few more times. He starts asking me a few favors in return and we start ourselves a nice little working partnership.”

“I don’t know what he did to get Loose dead, don’t rightly care. All I know is that he helped get me set up and this is how I return the favor.”

“I... see.” I said.

Clip chuckled. “Funny thing is, I’ve been meaning to deal with Daisy Dawn for a while now. Guess now’s my chance to take care of some loose ends.”

“We’re nearly there, get ready.” Nightshade called back from the front.

“Righto capitan.” Clip replied, rubbing a claw on her breast and admiring her talons.

“Good ol’ Shady.” She said, turning back to me. “Even when you do him a favor, he still ends up doing you one in return.” She smiled. “Nice knowing ya kiddo. Yer gonna be in debt to him the rest of yer life.”

“Thanks...” I returned. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Don’t mention it. No, really.”

We stopped. I nearly bumped into Nightshade who looked back at me and motioned me to be quiet.

We had arrived at the same place I remembered. It was the same, dead end alleyway with the same locked door, the only difference being that there were no ponies out for blood. The air smelled of piss, and dark brown blood splotches were left where my head had smashed against the deck. Ripped tatters of my suit still sat on the ground mixed with the blood and piss on the floor. There were even dents where I had been slammed into walls and floor. Seeing it from this angle I shuddered. Somehow I had survived that. Regardless, I was not happy to be back.

Thankfully there was no sign that the gang had been through recently. Nightshade approached the door and rapped it twice with a foreleg. A slot in the door opened and a mare inside gave us a once over, looking first at Nightshade, and then at me. Clip stood next to the door, just out of sight.

“Do I know you?” The mare on the other side asked.

“We’re here to see Daisy Dawn.” Nightshade said. “We’ve got some business to negotiate.”

“Deedee doesn’t take visitors, piss off.” The slot slammed shut. Nightshade sighed.

“Well, there goes that option.” He muttered under his breath.

Then I had an idea.

“We’re here about the package from Cinder Casserole.” I said, raising my voice a little so I could be sure the mare inside could hear me.

There was a pause. Nightshade and Clip gave me an odd look, and then the slot opened once again, slowly and deliberately.

“What, did you just say?” The mare said, glaring at me with suspicion.

“You heard me. The package from Cinder Casserole. We’re here to get it.” She looked skeptically at me, and then at Nightshade. A moment more, and then she made a decision. The slot closed. The lock clicked, and the door swung open.

Clip popped around the door frame, and body checked the guard, whose eyes instantly became saucers. There was a loud bang as the mare’s head slammed against the wall, and the mare sank to the ground, unconscious.

“Nice work.” Nightshade said. He looked me over and then nodded to himself.

“Here.” Nightshade said, reaching into his pack. “Yuphll need thith.” He tossed something that clattered down on the ground next to my hooves. I looked down at it and froze.

It was a pistol.

“I... I...” I blubbered. No one heard me. A loud kerchack drew my attention to Clip, who was admiring a heavily worn assault rifle, and Nightshade was loading a pistol of his own. I looked back down at my new weapon and swallowed down bile.

Favors. Favors nothing this was insane.

“I-I can’t take this.” I said, carefully nudging the gun away from me.

“Don’t worry, everything will be fine.” Nightshade said, nudging it back. “Just take it. This will be over quick.”

Quick and dead. I thought grimly.

“First timer?” Clip said, grinning. “Boy Nightshade you sure know how to pick ‘em.” Clip racked a round into his weapon, and then started moving inside.

“Just take it.” Nightshade insisted. I hesitated, staring at the gun and nervously pawing the ground with a hoof.

No going back. I thought.

Reluctantly, I picked it up. Nightshade grinned.

Together, we entered Daisy’s Hideout.

The hideout was more like an abandoned club. Beyond the iron door was a short, unlit hallway ending in a pair of polished oak doors. We all shared a glance at that. Compared to the steel gray walls and hard floors, the doors looked decidedly out of place. There was a restroom off to the side which, after a moment of checking, Clip confirmed to be empty. Loud music boomed from the other side of the doors, stifled by the wood. Clip and Nightshade nodded to each other and together we all walked in. As I stepped through the doorframe, dread crept down my spine with a sick chill.

Inside was a lavishly decorated lounge with a full bar to one side. The floor had been carpeted in a rich burgundy which felt plush under my hooves and cozy on my eyes. Sun lamps hung from the ceiling, bathing the room in warm yellow light. Near the center of the room sat a large poker table surrounded by low stools.

At the table, several ponies played poker, while another stallion minded the bar, mixing up drinks for everypony present. And then I saw her. Sitting on the throne was Daisy Dawn, a very familiar unicorn who watched the poker game with mild disinterest, while slugging down a small bottle of whiskey.

At our entrance, somepony stopped the music. All of them looked up. Daisy Dawn leaned forward in her seat, her cream colored mane falling into her half lidded green eyes, and one of her eyebrows arched in skepticism. Then I saw it. Nestled cozily behind her horn, and partially hidden by the locks of her mane, was the distinct gleam of a WAND’s focusing gem. Daisy Dawn was wearing my WAND... incorrectly.

I facehoofed.

“Who the hell are you?” She spat, looking at us. Her eyes shot to Clip. “And the fuck are you doing here?”

“Wow, Daisy.” Clip said, taking an impressed glance around the room. “You’ve been doing really well for yourself. Ah.” Clip snatched a drink off a nearby parlor table and lifted it to her mouth, sipping lightly on the small straw. She blinked, and then looked down at the drink, a smile growing on her beak.

“Hey! This shit’s pretty good!” She exclaimed.

“Put that down.” Daisy ordered, levitating out a pump action shotgun and leveling it at Clip.

“Let’s not get too hasty, Daiz.” Clip said, casually setting the drink back down onto the parlor table. Her grin widened. “We wouldn’t want you to get any more wrinkles on that ass you call a face.”

“Get. Out.” Daisy’s shotgun chambered a round.

“Easy, easy.” Nightshade interjected. “We’re just here to get something. My friend here recently lost something, and we need to get it back.”

The unicorn tensed, and then looked at me. Her eyes widened slightly.

“You... I know you.” she said. Her shotgun abruptly changed targets.

“You should,” I said, “you tried to kill me.”

“Well then, I-”

BANG

I don’t know who fired. I don’t think it mattered at that point. Daisy Dawn’s head snapped back and she fell backwards out of her chair, landing in a twitching pile on the floor. Her shotgun clattered to the floor and discharged, sending a pair of the ganger ponies ducking for cover. Chips scattered everywhere as another ganger upended the poker table, and in an instant the room erupted into chaos.

I watched in mute shock as Daisy fell, dimly aware of my surroundings. Ponies were drawing weapons from behind the upended table, Nightshade said something, and then turned and started shooting. Clip charged the bar and leapt over, engaging the bar pony who was trying to bring out a shotgun of his own. I simply stared at the now dead unicorn.

Every bone in my body screamed for me to move. I couldn’t. I could hardly even breathe. Movement registered all around me, followed by loud pops, and intelligible noises. I stared at the body of the mare who moments ago had been aiming at me.

A noise built in my ears. I realized it was someone yelling at me.

“GET DOWN YOU IDIOT!” Nightshade screamed, tackling me. We hit the ground and rolled, slamming against the poker table while bullets perforated the floor behind us. We stopped and thrashed, tangled in each other’s limbs. I got kicked in the face, and Nightshade broke free just in time to take out a ganger poking his head and weapon around the table.

I tried to get up, but I couldn’t. Everything blurred together. I couldn’t tell up from down. I couldn’t see straight. All I could register were the sounds. Shouting. Gunfire. Confusion. I was paralyzed, gripped with fear, lying on my back and hyperventilating while death raged all around me. Wood chips rained from the table as the gangers laid on their assault, splinters erupting where the bullets penetrated.

And then I had a pony in my face. Leaning over the Poker table, a ganger smiled as he leveled his weapon at my head. I panicked and kicked, narrowly connecting. It was not a strong kick, but the awkward buck was enough. The pony’s head snapped to the side and his weapon went flying.

“CLIP, LIGHTS!” Nightshade shouted. I saw movement. Clip popped up from his position, aimed skyward and opened fire. One after another, the lights in the room popped and shattered, showering everyone with bits of glass and plunging the room into darkness.

I was blind and scared, thrashing helplessly in the dark while trying to orient myself. I couldn’t see, hell I didn’t even know which direction was up. I felt Nightshade move away. I heard more gunshots. Muzzle flashes revealed faces of fear and rage around the room, while the lights sparked violently, illuminating the scene in blinding bolts of electric blue light.

I lay on my back, useless and paralyzed. I wasted a precious moment, and then I had the sense to rollover and cower. I squeezed my eyes shut and whimpered. I covered my head and curled, expecting the worst. It never came.

As quickly as it had started, it was over. There was a last crack, a spray of gunfire, and a pained choking noise. Silence returned, and with it a ringing in my ears. I heard noise, muffled at first, and as my hearing cleared I realized Nightshade was shouting.

“Clip! You okay?” He called towards the bar. “Clip?” there was no answer. The lights sparked again, bathing the room in cyan. and I saw Nightshade get up.

“Ah shit! CLIP!” Chips rattled, glass crunched. Galloping hooves slowed to a stop. Broken bottles clinked as somepony cleared them off the table, landing on the ground with a crash. A scraping noise, something heavy was being dragged across the floor. I felt liquid falling on me from somewhere above.

Unsteadily I sat up, and bumped into something soft and warm. And wet. The light flashed and for an instant I stared into the dead eyes of the ganger who had tried to pop over the table. A bullet had taken him in the eye and throat. Darkness reigned.

I screamed.

There was a fizz and a pop and a crashing noise. The one of the lights fell from the ceiling and smashed into the ground, flaring brilliantly. It sparked, once, twice. Nightshade stood over by the bar, staring down at something.

Finally, I managed to say something coherent, and despite what fears it might bring, I only wanted one thing.

“Light.” I croaked. “Please, somepony turn on the light.” Moments passed in the dark. Minutes. And then, finally. I heard the distinct crack and hiss of a flare. Red light flared to life revealing the room and the pony holding it. Face half illuminated by the flare, Nightshade looked truly terrifying.

And very, very angry. He spat the flare out, where it landed on the floor and started burning the blood soaked carpet. Pooling blood hissed and boiled.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” He roared. I felt myself shrink. His voice reverberated off the walls. I backed away, bumping back into the poker table, now riddled with bullet holes.

“I... don’t-”

“YOU HAD OPEN TARGETS WHY DIDN’T YOU FIRE?” He advanced on me, glass cracking under his hooves, mixed with the clatter of poker chips.

“I... I...” I was fully backed against the table. My hooves slipping on the poker chips littering the floor. I couldn’t get away from him. I couldn’t run. I was sure I was going to die.

“Give me your weapon.” He ordered. To be honest, I didn’t know where it went. Hell, I didn’t even know how to use it.

“GIVE IT TO ME!” He screamed, putting the muzzle of his pistol into my face.

“I don’t have it!” I cried. I just wanted him to go away. Make the scary buck go away. I started bawling and curled up into a ball on the floor.

He kicked me.

I rolled.

I stopped.

I cried.

I felt a hoof roll me over again and once again i was staring into the sum of my fears.

We locked eyes. My terrified yellow, with his steel gray. He held the gaze for a minute, two. And then he stopped. Something in his eyes softened and he took his hoof off me, I rolled back on my side and wept.

“You’ve... never been in a gunfight before have you.” It was not a question. He wasn’t even talking to me. He simply stared at me in the red light, considering something, replaying events in his head. Another minute passed, and then he changed. Something in him seemed to deflate. The terrifying pony I had just witnessed melted before me, replaced by something... tired.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Nightshade shook his head and looked away, trudging back toward the bar counter.

“Fuck.” He said under his breath.

“I’m... sorry...”

“No.. you...” He drew a long breath, then sighed. “No. I dragged you into this. I should be sorry, and I am.” He looked at something I couldn’t see. “I assumed you were more capable than you were.” Scanning the room, he spotted something on the ground and picked it up. It was my pistol. He pushed a button near the magazine well and the magazine popped out with a click. Scooping it up in in his fetlock, he inspected it. I hadn’t fired a single shot.

“Assumptions.” He muttered to himself. The word hung in the air.

Finally, I worked up the courage to speak.

“Clip... ?”

“Is dead.” He finished solemnly. “She died in the crossfire.”

The silence resumed, broken only by the occasional spark of the lights. Nightshade lit another flare, righted the poker table, and then set the flare on top, before turning to me.

“Stay here.” He ordered. “I need to check on something.” His voice was cool. Careful. Measured. Almost as if nothing had happened.

“I... okay.” I said. He disappeared into the other room. Tension left my shoulders, and air flooded my lungs. I took a few shuddering breaths, breathing easier for what felt like the first time in hours. Lights came on in the next room. I was left to sit in the lounge in the red light of the flares. I scanned the wreckage of the club lounge, and spotted the dead leader.

Daisy Dawn was pretty. Or at least, she used to be. She wasn’t so pretty now. Her cream mane was stained red with blood, belonging to both her and the buck who died next to her. A gleam in her hair caught my eye. My WAND. She still wore it, nestled behind her horn like a tiara. She looked like a queen, a dead queen of the criminal underground.

I took a shuddering look at the scene in the flares light.

Death.

Death was everywhere.

All because of a favor.

The word resounded in my mind with a dread I could not shake. I shivered. Clip was dead. Nearby, her lower half sat limp behind the bar counter, her side checkered with bullet holes and still bleeding. Her blood mixed with the seven other dead ponies in the room. Her favor had taken her life and cost several others.

Horrified, I wondered what mine would cost me.

Nightshade returned from the other room. Gingerly, I took a step back from him.

“I’m back.” He said somberly. “You need to see this.”

He held up a small package of a substance I recognized.

“Is that?” I intoned.

“Crash. They’ve got tons of it in the back. I’m guessing that this is probably what your contact up in the shipping offices wanted.” Nervously, I glanced at the bag of seemingly innocuous white powder. Back on L6 the stuff was hard to come by, and extraordinarily expensive, not that I’d ever done any myself. A dealer could make a load of bits, provided they didn’t get caught. Judging by the quantity, Nightshade was holding enough to make him rich for life, and if what he said was true... well, at the very least it explained why these gangers had enjoyed such extravagance. How they managed to get ahold of it was beyond me.

“So, what happens now?” I asked quietly.

“Now? Now we leave. We need to get out of here before word gets out that Clip is dead.” He said. “Without her keeping the peace the whole underground is going to destabilize. We need to stay out of sight until the smoke clears.” Leaving. Yes, leaving was a good idea.

Nightshade chuckled. In a room full of dead ponies, and after losing a close friend, he chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, perturbed.

“It looks like I owe you a couple favors for dragging you into this.” He said.

Favors. I thought.

I hate favors.
*****
Notice: 89% Remaining...

05 - Chapter Five: Shipping and Handling

Chapter Five

Shipping and Handling

“This is an evacuation order! All citizens are to proceed to the designated teleportation areas for immediate departure! ALL citizens! Evacuate the area immediately!”

- Mass Evacuation of Celestia’s Providence - 2510 E.C.

Soap. I had wondered why Nightshade had bought soap when we stopped at that supply store. As we limped back to his apartment from the fight, I wondered about a lot of things. I wondered why I let myself get dragged into his little gang war. I wondered why I didn’t have the nerve to say no to him, or why I entered that hell hole despite the fact that I knew it would get ugly. Maybe I was a pushover. Maybe Nightshade made an error in judgement. Maybe it was both. Maybe I should have just turned around and made a life for myself on the station, instead of running off to get my wings back. Maybe I should focus on something else.

Soap. Why did he buy soap? Was he expecting things to get nasty? Or was it something else?

When we made it back to Nightshade’s apartment we were both dead tired, though Nightshade had the worst of it. In the firefight, I had gotten lucky. I wasn’t hit, miraculously, and my only injuries were a couple bruised ribs and a few cuts and scrapes. Nightshade, however, wasn’t so lucky. A bullet nailed him in the flank, and he had several close calls along his withers. Long bloody streaks remained where bullets had grazed him in the fray, bleeding slowly but steadily as he limped alongside me. His hooves were a mess, cut up from the glass around Clip’s body, forcing our progress down to a painful limp.

Nightshade’s apartment was in an area on the fringe of gang turf and civilization. Few ponies walked through that area, and those who did gave us worried glances as we limped past. I did my best to support him, but he waved me off. Our progress back was slow, at best. As soon as we made it back, Nightshade keyed the door and then stumbled inside, calling for the clock doc. The little machine rolled over and in a few moments, Nightshade slugged down one of the reddish orange potions stored in its refrigerator, before collapsing on the floor and grunting painfully.

“Bullet, left flank.” He told the machine. Immediately the doc took action. It withdrew a syringe from its refrigerator and injected it into his flank. Nightshade grunted. The doc continued its work, and started barraging the injured area with several magic fields. The bullet popped neatly out, caught in a levitation field, while healing magic simultaneously closed the wounds. Nightshade winced and then relaxed, sighing gratefully as the damage along his withers mended, the tissue steadily re-growing until it was back to a healthy shade of pink. After a few minutes, only the scars remained.

When it had finished with him, the doc turned to me, scanned me, and then powered down. I guess I wasn’t worth the trouble, not that I was seriously injured anyway.

Nightshade lay still for a moment, and then sat up, groaning as he reached a more comfortable sitting position.

“I’ll never get used to that,” he muttered. “Damn things taste like popcorn.”

“What did you just drink?” I asked.

“This thing?” he said, holding up the last bottle of reddish orange liquid, before replacing it in the refrigerator. “It’s a catalyst agent. It speeds up magical reactions in ponies.”

“So, not a healing potion then.”

“Heh, healing potion? Nah, I don’t have enough bits to afford that kind of luxury.” said the buck with his very own clock doc and an apartment that looked like it was still up for sale.

“You have a clock doc.”

“Favors.” He grinned. My stomach churned.

Nightshade wobbled as he got his legs underneath him. I steadied him with a hoof, and then he waved me off.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I need to get going anyway, and you need to get cleaned up.”

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” I asked. “Shouldn’t you be more worried about your health? Like, rest up or something?”

“I should, but I know some ponies who need to know about the drugs we found in the hideout. Time sensitive stuff. Just chill here. I’ll be back soon. And get cleaned up while you’re at it.”

“I’m fine.” I said, meaning it. “I really wasn’t injured or anything, and I can patch the suit up just fine with the remains of the last one.”

“N-no that’s... not what I meant.” Nightshade faltered. His grin became a grimace, and then he handed me the soap.

I didn’t take it. I just stared at it.

“Uh... what’s this for?”

Nightshade was silent for a long time. He stared at me, eyes widening.

“You mean you don’t know?” Nightshade said aghast, his left eye twitching.

“Know what?” I asked.

“Horizon... you smell like a latrine.”

Soap...

THAT’S WHY HE BOUGHT SOAP? I was outraged! I was... suddenly thinking about the last time I had taken a shower. My thoughts shot back to L6, and then I found myself struggling. Obviously, it was before the water had been shut off in my apartment, and most of my time was spent in space. I’d work, come home, eat, crash and then... repeat.

Goddesses...

I hadn’t bathed in years!

Suddenly, everything made a lot more sense. I had wondered why people always hated me being around. Personally, I thought it was just discrimination against blank flanks, but, no, they wouldn’t see I was a blank flank because I always wore my flight suit. The disgusted faces, the ponies hiding their children, ponies walking away quickly, hell, even Junkyard started to make sense.

I was a walking miasma!

Ponies didn’t hate me, they hated my smell! More images floated to my mind. The irritable ponies in the Tuck n’ Roll, the pissed-off vendors in the food court, the disgusted face of that one shipping client, one by one they all added up to a single, monumental conclusion:

People hated me because I stank.

Favors. The word resounded in my head.

FUCKIN DAMMIT!

There must have been something about my face. Nightshade stifled a laugh, and then, after making a valiant effort, lost the battle. He had to sit down!

“Give me the damn soap.” I growled, face hot. The soap bar hit my head and plopped to the deck.

“See you around Horizon.” Nightshade laughed. “I’ll be back later.” The door hissed shut behind him. I fumed, glaring after him, before returning my attention to the soap, my newfound nemesis.

“We’re going to have some quality time, you and I.” I said to the soap bar. “Oh yes... quality time.”

A hot shower had never felt so good, especially since I shed the new flightsuit in order to perform some repairs on it. I really did stink! The hot water felt blissful and after a good sudsing up, the dirt and grime, built up over years of sweat and abuse, finally broke away, carried to the drain by the rivulets of hot water pouring off my sides. I could not remember the last time I had taken a shower, especially a hot one, but damn did it feel good.

Thirty minutes of bliss later, I finally got out of the shower. I dried off, made use of the facilities, and then, thinking I should probably address other hygiene issues, I brushed my teeth. Lucky for me, Nightshade had a spare brush stowed neatly behind his mirror. I brushed, spat out the paste and then stopped, noticing myself in the mirror.

Even after the shower, I still looked like hell. My mane hung wet around my face, framing the bags under my eyes. I had an ugly bruise on my side and I had cuts all over my face and body; cuts that reminded me of a certain event I had been trying to forget about for the last hour, something that came back with crippling force.

“What am I doing?” I asked myself, placing a hoof on the mirror.

What was I doing? I had just spent the last thirty minutes taking a shower in the home of a stallion whom I was certain was going to kill me. Not even an hour ago, he had held a gun in my face demanding me to explain why I couldn’t help him in the firefight.

The whole mess was his fault. He dragged me out to find my WAND, nearly got me killed, and then up and blamed me for his poor judgment. Granted, he saved my ass, but that didn’t justify what he did. He nearly got me killed! And he did get someone killed. In fact, he just killed a whole room full of ponies. With help, of course, but still.

I thought back to Clip. I thought of her body laying on the floor of the lounge in the red light of the flare. I thought of the ganger’s blood pooling in the room. I thought of the face of Daisy Dawn, dead with a bullet planted firmly in her skull, all because of a judgment call made by the same buck I had helped limp back home.

And there I was, happy and comfortable from a warm shower. What the hell was I thinking?

I didn’t want to go in there. I wanted to find my WAND but...dammit! I didn’t want to go in there! I didn’t want to get shot at! I didn’t want to do any shooting! All I wanted was... all I wanted was to fly.

And I still could. Technically I wasn’t wearing my WAND yet, but...

I stared at my WAND, set neatly on top of the bathroom counter. The focusing gem still shined, but its surface was covered in sticky red residue. Brownish blotches marred it where Daisy’s blood had spattered and dried. It was undamaged, but... I didn’t know if I could wear it without feeling sick. I shuddered, deciding to clean it off. I tasted copper in my mouth as I picked it up and spat it into the sink, spitting afterward until the flavor was gone.

I turned on the sink and watched the water drain pink, my tired eyes drifting back and forth from my WAND back to the reddish water in which it sat.

Daisy was dead because of this thing. She died because Nightshade needed me to do something for him, and getting my WAND back was just a means to do that.

Then a thought struck me.

I didn’t have to get involved. I didn’t have to go into there. Heck, I could have left at any time. I had a choice. Nightshade offered me the weapon. He didn’t force it on me. I didn’t have to take it, but I did.

I took the weapon.

Horrified, I backed out of the bathroom, stumbled, and landed on my bruised side. A dull pain lanced through my body and lingered.

I took the weapon. He urged me to do it, but I still took the weapon.

I took power into my hooves with the intent to use it against somepony else, for personal gain.

And I paid for it, I thought grimly. I was at fault too, and now I had to live with that guilt.

I looked at the apartment in a new light. Everything was still very clean, except now there was a big bloody spot where Nightshade had collapsed prior to his impromptu treatment. Beyond that, the room was devoid of life. The clock doc still sat where it had powered down, and everything else was still maintained in its freakishly neat state. I checked a clock on a nearby wall, a minimalistic silver thing that meshed well with the rest of the room.

Eight o’clock. Nightshade had been gone for the last hour. I spent more time in the shower than I had thought.

Technically, I could still leave. I hadn’t killed anyone, directly anyway. I could put the station behind me and just disappear. No more gunfights, no more dangerous situations... right? Maybe I could go live a normal life somewhere else. I was clean now! I could find work! I didn’t stink! I... didn’t really know. Could I leave? If I did, wouldn’t Nightshade find me? And besides, if I left where would I go? I was a wanted pony, even if I didn’t commit the crime. If I went back to the PC, or anywhere else, I would just be arrested and that would be that. The truth was I couldn’t go back, and, judging by how I fared so far, I couldn’t make it on my own either.

I was trapped, I realized, not by bars, or by intent, just by circumstance.

I couldn’t leave. I was stuck with Nightshade. He would probably get me killed, but he was the only chance I had at making a life anywhere other than a prison cell or a street corner. He was the last thing I had to live on, and I owed him favors if not my life.

Involuntarily, I shuddered.

I retrieved my WAND from the bathroom sink, dried it off, and then began strapping it on, doing my best not to think of the dead pony who had been wearing it little more than an hour before. Halfway through, I stopped, pondered a moment, and then took it back off.

My WAND was a crutch, I realized. I used it for everything. I used all the little bells and whistles and all the programs I could afford to cram onto it. It was so much a part of my life that I was crippled without it. I relied on it too much, and if I wanted to survive, I needed to learn how to live without it. I looked at it and set it back down. Parts of it were still pink from the rinse in the sink. I Wiped it off with a towel from the bathroom and then stowed it in my fresh suit instead. I decided that would use it only when I needed it: no more, no less.

The door hissed open.

“I’m back,” Nightshade said as he trotted inside, “and I hope you’ve got a few more hours in you because I have a contract for... us?” He stopped just past the doorframe, staring at me. It then occurred to me that I had forgotten one very important detail in all my musings: I was still naked.

A stupid kind of modesty overtook me. Ponies are usually naked, but I usually wasn’t. That, and I wasn’t comfortable showing other ponies that I didn’t have a cutiemark. I took a couple of steps back from Nightshade, face warming.

Silence reigned in the room. Nightshade struggled to keep his eyes from straying to my bare flank, but ultimately failed. Every half-second his eyes flitted there and I shifted, trying to hide the elephant in the room.

“You... you’re a blank flank.” He sounded awestruck. I took a couple more steps back and then bumped into his couch. That stupid lousy... I’m getting off track.

“I-I... ah.”

“How are you a pilot if you’re...” He trailed off, muttering to himself things I could not hear.

Quiet returned.

“I-It’s not drugs, if that’s what you’re thinking.” I finally managed.

“Oh.” Nightshades eyes widened a little, and then softened. Pity. Celestia how I hate that look.

“You have fade?” He asked.

“Yeah, I got it from my mother.”

“That... explains a lot about you.”

“How so?”

“Oh, little things. Why you’re so defensive for one.”

I AM NOT DEFENSIVE!I bit my lip, stifling a retort.

“Why you’re always in that suit for another. How many ponies know?”

“Not many,” I replied, “a close friend, my old boss, maybe one or two others. I try to keep it hidden.”

“Keep it that way.” He finished.

After a moment of awkward silence, Nightshade coughed.

“Anyway, I hope you’re good for a few more hours because I’ve got some work for us.”

“Work?” My ears perked up, happy to turn away from awkward conversation.

“Yeah,” he smiled. “and before you start saying this is your favor, don’t, because I’m paying you for this.”

“Really?” tension crept between my shoulderblades, “what’s the job?”

“A contact I have in the shipping offices needs some cargo recovered. A barge went down in an attack just a few jumps from here, and she wants whatever is left onboard.”

“So it’s a salvaging job?” That sounded easy enough, and it definitely fell within my skill set.

“Something like that, yeah.” He paused. “I hope you have some salvaging equipment on your ship, otherwise we’re going to have to buy some.” This time it was my turn to grin.

“More than you know,” I snickered.

We left for the docks shortly afterward, though, not before Nightshade cleaned up the mess he left on the floor. Turned out I was wrong. He really did keep his apartment that clean. To screw with him, I nudged one of the portraits on the wall out of position before leaving. I don’t think he noticed it, yet.

In any case, I led the way back to my ship, though we ended up taking a rather long route to get there without using my WAND. I had him point out where Fritter’s food stand was, and from there, I used the station directories to point me in the right direction. It took a little while, but after getting lost a couple times, I finally smelled that delicious apple pie coming from the advertisement on the wall, and I knew we had found the right dock. Together, we stepped onto the catwalk running under the docking platform. Once up the stairs, Nightshade’s jaw dropped.

“You... fly that?” He said, pointing at one of the massive armored haulers secured at the dock.

“Nope.” I said as continued down the platform.

The second hauler had left port and had been replaced by an even larger, burlier and meaner looking ship. Nightshade’s expression changed from awe to mad glee.

“I fly that.” I pointed between the two. Neatly obscured by the two ships, and still cramped precariously between them, was the Scrap Bandit. Sandwiched between the two, much nicer looking ships, it looked like someone had left a turd floating in space, or like someone had broken off a piece of a bigger ship and never cleaned it up. A ship turd. There you go, the Scrap Bandit looked like a ship turd.

Nightshade just stood and stared, comprehension dawning on his face with equal parts confusion and outright shock. I nudged him with a hoof and he jumped, his jaw snapping to attention as he returned to reality.

“Wh... thuh...”

“Yes?” I grinned. Nightshade paused for a moment, seeming to gather himself.

“What the hell is that thing?” He pointed.

“It’s a salvage ship.” My grin broke into a sheepish smile as I imagined that a single, tired joke flew through both of our minds. Nightshade kept staring, his eyes snapping from joint to joint of the engineering nightmare that was the Scrap Bandit.

“That... thing can fly?” He finally managed.

“Nope.” I said truthfully. “It can move, and that’s about it. By the way, you might want to suit up, Once we get outside the hangar, the ship is going to get a bit drafty.” I kicked off to the hull of the bandit and landed with a magnetic thunk. Nightshade simply stared, looking back and forth from me, to the ship I was boarding. I pried open the hatch and allowed myself a private smirk before ducking inside.

The Bandit was as I had left it. No one had bothered to try and impound it or strip it for parts so that was good. Personally, I doubted that anyone would want to, considering the condition everything was in. I started safety checks while I waited for Nightshade to board, and then, once satisfied that the Scrap Bandit wouldn’t explode during ignition, I headed back to the cockpit. Nightshade was waiting for me there.

“There’s a hull breach in the cockpit.” He said.

“Ya don’t say.” I replied, while strapping on my WAND.

“Why... is there a hull breach in the cockpit?”

“I like the view?”

Something inside him snapped. I don’t know if it was the messy state of things, the disrepair of everything in the ship, or the design of the ship itself. Seeing Nightshade visibly perturbed while looking around felt... vindicating, entertaining even. I half expected him to start cleaning when I wasn’t looking.

“How... how can you fly this thing! This is insane!”

“Hey just because it’s ugly doesn’t mean it’s not functional.” It wasn’t, but that I kept that bit to myself. He didn’t need to know that anyway, after all he was the pony who dragged me into this. I pulled one of the straps taught and began to feel a familiar tingle in my head. At least my WAND still worked. I started flipping switches with it as I went through my usual activation routine. Simultaneously, I floated my helmet out of my suit and slipped it on. I heard a telltale click, and relaxed. Once more, the world became muffled and tinny, processed through the speakers in the helmet.

“This thing is... is...”

“Trust me,” I said through the suit’s speakers, “whatever you’re about to say, I’ve said it before, on many more occasions than you might realize. Sure the Bandit needs a little TLC... okay a lot of TLC, but it works. Just trust me on this okay?” I said, hitting the ignition. The ship shuddered, emitting a low hum before it jolted, and all the interior lights died.

Grunting, I gave the main console a good kick. Immediately, the power returned. Nightshade gawked.

“We’re going to die...” He mumbled. More probable words had never been said.

“This was your idea.” I grinned but he couldn’t see it. “Again, you’ll want to suit up, The air in here gets a bit thin once we’re out in the black.” Nightshade took another fast glance at the viewport and then rapidly wriggled into his suit. I focused on the pilot harness, making sure it was nice and secure before I even attempted to undock . A few moments later I felt a tap on my withers. I looked over to Nightshade who was dressed and pointing a hoof at his helmet.

“Use short-band. Frequency Sierra, one dot five-niner.” I said. Nightshade nodded and pushed a few buttons on his sleeve with his hoof.

“Thanks.” He said. His voice sounded tinny through the radio.

“No problem. We can talk like this, though, you might want to head back into the corridor while we’re moving. I don’t want you flying out the viewport if we take a hard turn.”

“That’s a risk?”

“You wouldn’t be the first.”

“Okay then.” Nightshade looked once at the open viewport and then back at me. He shook his head and then muttered something so low I couldn’t even hear it over the radio. He started futzing around with his sleeve controls and my WAND beeped with new instructions.

“These are the coordinates for the downed ship. The sooner we get there the better.” He said.

I nodded.

“let’s get moving then.”

Very, very carefully, I eased us out of the dock, and started toward the entrance. Traffic, of course, was terrible. This time, however, I had a secret weapon: favors. I helped a smaller ship get into the fray and, low and behold, one of the others decided to help me in return. I was out of the hangar in five minutes. Close calls be damned, I could get used to that. I took us outside the docking perimeter and checked the coordinates. Surprisingly, they were nearby, just two jumps into deep space. How anyone could go down so close to safety was anypony’s guess, but at least the trip would be short.

I charged the Sparkle drive, and off we went.

Two jumps and a little over two hours later, we landed on grid. Well, almost. A quick scan after the jump finished revealed that we were about 150 kilometers off target, a fair distance, but one that we could easily make on thrusters without having to power up the drive again. Deciding to let the Sparkle drive cool, I brought the ship about, and from there we made our way to the job site. What we found, however, was not pretty.

From the distance the ship looked as if it was still intact, a valuable, salvageable husk that would have made Junkyard drool in a previous life, and might well have guaranteed I would be paid for that day’s labor. As we closed the distance however, I could tell something was off. More and more details came into view, and as the damage became more visible, I started noticing the tiny specks of color surrounding it. A sick feeling formed in the pit of my stomach, churning harder and harder with each kilometer we covered.

We had reached the site of a slaughter, and judging from the bodies, a recent one. Feet wide holes riddled the sides of the ship where large energy weapons had punched through its armor, slagging the ship’s thrusters and peeling away its armor plating. Great black scorch marks lined its hull near fractured craters of missile impacts, and pieces of armor hung in the black where they had chipped off, as well as miscellaneous debris from the ship’s ruined internal structure. The ship had snapped in two under the barrage. The front half of the cargo ship had canted sharply away from the hull, forming a ripped gap between its fore and aft sections, shredding open the main cabin and exposing its ruined hull structure and vital subsystems.

In the space around the wreck, debris floated everywhere: Tools, detritus, blackened armor pieces, and ponies. Lots of ponies. Very, very dead ponies. Their vacuum mutilated bodies drifted along with the wreckage in a slow, tumbling parade, while the light of the red sun cast shadows in sharp relief against the slowly rotating husk.

I stared, mute before the carnage.

“You seem surprised.” Nightshade said as he finished squeezing through the hatch to the main access corridor. “I thought you would be used to this by now.”

I shot him a dirty glare, lessened by the helmet. At least he could see my eyes in the light.

“I didn’t sign up to go running around in graveyards Nightshade.” Not that I wanted to sign up in the first place, come to think of it.

“To be fair, I did say the ship was attacked.”

“You didn’t mention no one survived.”

“That wasn’t in my information. Remember, I’m on this mission too. Look.” He pointed out the viewport and I followed his hoof. A spot on the wreck caught my attention as it rotated. Cylindrical pods sat in bays set into the ship’s underbelly. Several had split open, but were thankfully unoccupied. Two of them were missing entirely.

“So a few did escape.” I hoped.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Doesn’t matter to us if they did, better for us if they didn’t.”

“That’s awfully callous.”

“If you knew what these ponies were trying to do, I don’t think you’d be so sympathetic.”

“What, were they criminals?” I asked.

“You’ll see. I’ll show you once we’re onboard.”

“What do you mean, ‘onboard?’ I thought we were just grabbing the cargo!”

“Right,” he said, “and to do that we need to get onboard.”

“Like hell we’re boarding that thing. I can just use the salvaging drones. We’ll be done in a few hours.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, we can’t use drones. They’ll damage what we need.”

“Then we leave the cargo bay intact, what’s the problem?”

“We need the shipping manifest.” Which the drones would destroy when it dismantled the onboard computers. Crap.

“Ugh... fine,” I sighed. An image of his grin floated through my head and I twitched, grumbling obscenities under my breath.

I pulled the Bandit alongside the wreck, getting as close as I dared without risking collision with major debris, and then I parked us in the wreck’s shadow. I flicked a switch to shut off the running lights, and then killed the interior lighting as well. As soon the lights winked out absolute darkness set in until our eyes adjusted to the ambient starlight. I relaxed, knowing that we were now, for the most part, invisible.

“We’re set.” I said, finally powering down the ship.

“Alright then, I’ll meet you outside.” Nightshade squeezed back through the hatch, leaving me alone in the cockpit.

I unlocked my harness and floated freely for a minute while I stretched and oriented myself. Then, after squeezing through the hatch, I grabbed a pair of cutters and a few charges from auxiliary storage below deck, before meeting Nightshade out on the hull.

“I’ve got the equipment. Ready to go?”

“Yeah, but... are you sure you can’t get us closer?” Nightshade said. Had I not done this for seven straight years I would have shared his unease. I had parked us a safe distance from the wreck, or at least safe enough for remote salvaging. The space between us and the wreck was little more than 100 feet, but even at that distance one had to be careful. A slight miscalculation in a jumps angle could significantly alter your trajectory, and missing the target entirely would mean a very, very long flight home.

“We’ll be fine.” I said.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“On three. One.”

“Two.”

“Three.” Disengaging my magnets, I gently kicked off toward the wreck, and watched the relative safety of the Scrap Bandit disappear beneath me. Progress was slow, our approach hindered by the cloud of debris and fractured armor plating. I used the smaller pieces to make gentle corrections to my trajectory, narrowly missing one of the larger blackened armor plates in the process. After five minutes of free flight, I touched down, activating my magnets and securing myself to the hull.

I took one last glance back at the Bandit. The ship was barely visible against the stars, a dark silhouette against the starry backdrop. Silently, I watched as the Scrap Bandit slid away, disappearing over the edge of the wreck’s rotating. I saw Nightshade land a short distance away from me. He had landed off target, but he had landed. That was a start at least.

“Com Check.” Nightshade said, trotting up to me.

“Clear.”

“Clear as well. Good. Head to the breach and we’ll split up from there. Judging by the damage it might be best if one of us takes the bridge section while the other preps the cargo for delivery.”

“So who goes where?” I asked.

“I’ll take the bridge. I need to know if the Captain had a copy of the shipping manifest.”

“Okay. I’ll secure the cargo then.”

“Sounds good, but check the other rooms on the way. Tell me about anything you find. I’ll meet you in the cargo hold once we’re finished.”

“Alright.”

We started along the hull of the ship, being careful not to brush up against any of the shrapnel remaining from the ship’s destruction. I moved with wary attention on the pieces of twisted armor plating that hung in the void around the ship. Brushing up against one of the sharp edges would mean a suit rupture, and a ruptured suit was fatal in any environment. As we neared the breach, Nightshade split off, taking one of the cutters along with a couple charges. I approached my assigned section and peered over the edge.

From up close the damage was worse than I had expected. Entire sections of the deck had collapsed, either broken down before the artificial gravity gave out or simply caved in by weapons impact. The corridor to the bridge was destroyed and wreckage from its internal structure, shredded in the hull breach, threatened to cleanly chop our suits into bits. Getting inside the ship would require me to make some adjustments.

I retrieved an energy charge from my pack and pressed it into the cutter, drawing back the slide to activate it. The hot end of the tool lit up, magical energy flaring to a blinding blue-white along its cutting edge. Across the breach, I could see Nightshade doing the same.

I started my cuts to clear away the sharper offenders, welding down the pieces of hull that were too sharp to pass safely and clearing away the remaining debris with my WAND. Eventually, I created a hole large enough for me to safely slip through and move to a piece of deck that floated freely just below my position. I hopped to it, and from there, I made a careful jump into the main body of the starship. I landed on a door, and then walked up the walls for a better angle.

The deck I had landed on was relatively clear of debris and, for the most part, intact. Reinforced struts lined either side of the entrance. It was an entrance to an open corridor, likely part of the passageway leading to the bridge. The door at the end was blocked by a collapsed beam, but with the charge remaining in the cutter, I made short work of it. Afterward, the charge died and I ejected it, stowing the depleted cartridge alongside the fresh ones. The short band crackled back to life.

“I’m penetrating the bridge now.” Nightshade said. “It looks like it was hit hard. I don’t know if I’ll find anything here.”

“Alright.” I attempted to use the door control. Predictably, nothing happened. “I’m about to enter the aft section. I’ll meet you in the cargohold to prep the cargo for transport.”

“Copy.” He said.

I tried the door control once again hoping for a change, but my luck hadn’t improved. Sighing, I started looking for the manual override. I searched for a panel near the door, while clearing aside the remaining debris with my WAND, and after a few moments I found it. I popped it open and a few wheel cranks later, the door cracked, and I heard the sound of gas rushing by. I let the environment bleed off, and then cranked the door open enough to squeeze through.

I had entered a tight corridor connected to the main deck of the ship. Several unlabeled doors split off to the sides and back while a hatch labeled maintenance sat on the floor next to the door. The door at the end of the of the hall was labeled ‘Engineering’. Recalling the damage I had seen earlier, I made a mental note to stay out of there.

I picked the first door on the left and cranked it open to investigate. Looking back, I should have picked a different door.

I had entered crew berthing, which I quickly learned had taken a direct hit from the energy weapon. A large portion of the room had been slagged, and the rest had been seared black from the heat. Worse yet, ponies had been inside at the time. The remains of several dead corpses floated where the blast hadn’t hit them. Of those who were near the impact, charred pieces of them remained welded to the floor. I gagged.

“How is progress?” Nightshade asked over the radio. Silently, I thanked him for the distraction.

“I-I haven’t reached it yet. I’m poking around the other sections to make sure we don’t miss what we’re looking for. Anything on your end?”

“No. Most of the bridge is locked down or wiped. I tried hacking in but the encryption is too heavy for what I’ve got. I’ll keep searching here. Keep looking around for that manifest on your end. I found the captain but he didn’t have it on him.”

And now I had to sort through corpses to find information. Great.

I sighed.

“Understood. I’ll keep an eye out.” Gritting my teeth, I set about searching.

Unfortunately for me, none of the ponies had what I was looking for. Everything inside the room had either been destroyed or melted. Feeling more than a little sick, I left for one of the other doors in the p-way.

The next room was not as bad, and judging by the equipment, I had stumbled across the comm station. The terminal looked to be fried, but from the icon on my AR screen the damage had been limited to the monitor. The computer was still online, and to my astonishment, unlocked. That was where my luck stopped, however. The entirety of the computer’s database had been wiped. All that was left was a cryptic message:

20JUN4131 21:09:57 - Intercepted by hostile element while en-route to objective. Clean Slate initiated. Aborting mission.

“The hell?”

“What’s up?” Nightshade asked.

“I just found the comms computer. The monitor’s shot, but I’ve got the data pulled up on my WAND.”

“Awesome! What did you find?”

“Nothing, just some message about a failed mission and a clean slate.... wait.” I checked the comm history instead, pulling up several pages worth of information. It wouldn’t give me any details other than when messages had been sent, but it did list what kind of transmissions were sent and, lucky for me, it seemed to be unaltered. Most of the entries were short transmissions, some readout updates, and a few other inane details. I filtered through the results and stopped near the final entries.

“Odd, they never sent a distress signal...” I said.

Silence reigned on the radio.

“I’m coming to your section. I don’t think I’m going to find the manifest on the bridge.”

“Alright... but I need to ask. What’s with this ship? If they were under attack why didn’t they send a distress signal?”

“They were probably waiting for help to arrive.”

“Kinda of a stupid move if you ask me.”

“Not if you’re trying to avoid the law it’s not.”

“So they were criminals.”

“Doesn’t matter now,” he said. “say... what was that last part of what you said again?”

“Uh...” I thought hard. “The distress signal?”

“No before that.”

“Clean slate?”

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong? Is that supposed to mean they wiped all the drives or something?” I asked.

“No... it means they’re coming back.”

Oh crap.

“We’d better hurry,” he continued, “we can’t afford to waste time.”

“Sounds great, I’ll go power up the Bandit and we can get the hell out of here.” I turned back toward the entrance.

“No.”

“What?”

“We can’t leave without the manifest.”

“Why not? It’s just one lousy shipment! I’m sure your client can survive a damn loss.”

“It’s not about bits, Horizon!”

“Then what is it about?”

“It... Look, If we leave, I lose my reputation, and you can forget about finding more work.”

“Then fuck work! I’m not going to do this if it’s gonna get me killed!”

"Funny, I didn’t take you for a coward.”

“Funny, I didn’t take you for stupid! Oh, wait. Who dragged me into a gang war without telling me what the hell was going on? Who landed me in shit up to my ears and dragged me around kingdom come only to learn I wasn’t what the fuck he wanted? Hell, with your record I should have seen this shit coming! It’s no wonder you got your friend killed!”

“SHUT UP.”

“No! I don’t want to die!”

“Then consider this a favor.”

“Fuck your favors!”

“Horizon you will fucking do this or I will kill you myself!” Nightshade roared.

And he could. A small voice in my head reasoned with me. Grinding my teeth, I bit back an insult. The line was still open.

“Horizon?”

Oh... fuck him. Just... FUCK him.

“See you in the cargo hold.” I growled, cutting the line and stomping back into the hallway. Manifest, fucking manifest, why was the damn manifest so fucking important? Where was I? Right, going to the stupid fucking cargohold. The stupid hallway was as empty as ever, but with a deadline now pressing in the back of my mind. I searched the remaining rooms with renewed urgency. The room directly across from comms turned out to be an empty infirmary, which left the door to engineering at the end of the corridor. As I approached my WAND started popping off warnings about trace amounts of radiation and I backed off to avoid getting contaminated.

Great, the sparkle drive was damaged. Well, scratch that room off the list.

That left one direction: Down.

I opened the hatch to the maintenance deck and floated down the ladderwell.

Deck two caught me off guard. I had been expecting something much like the first deck, another short corridor and maybe some rooms, but instead all I found was a simple maintenance bay full of spare parts and welding charges and, to my surprise, a working airlock. The power to lower decks was still active judging by the functional emergency lighting on the floor, which led me to several rapid conclusions:

One, the ship still had power.
Two, judging by the ship layout I had seen so far, the sparkle drive was also powered as well.
Three, radiation meant the sparkle drive was significantly damaged and finally;
Four, broken sparkle drive, plus power, plus one strong jolt, equals one very, very bad day.

We were exploring a time bomb.

“Horizon, I’m inside the aft section now. Did you find the cargo hold?”

“I think so.” I said, suddenly feeling very small.

“Good, where are you?”

“Below decks.”

“Got it, I see you.”

A moment later Nightshade tapped me on my withers. I ignored him. Part of me wanted to buck him, the other half just wanted to be out of there. Another, strongly motivated part of me wanted to piss myself, but I reasoned that last one wouldn’t be appropriate for the time being. That, and I didn’t feel like taking another shower.

“This is?” Nightshade said, indicating the airlock.

“Only place left.”

“Time’s tickin then.”

Together we entered the airlock, and I keyed the door control. The door closed behind us, and then the airlock door malfunctioned, cutting the power to its controls and locking both of us inside. I let out a low, frustrated groan and kicked it. All I got for the effort was an aching knee.

I found the manual override and started cranking. As the other door cracked open, air started flooding the airlock and sound returned with a furious roar. Suddenly I could hear everything. The creak of the ship, the low ghastly moan of the metal, the ever-present hum of the engines, all of it assaulted my ears, building in volume as the air pressure normalized. I opened the door wide enough to fit through, and then stepped inside behind Nightshade.

Unlike the rest of the ship, the cargo hold was spacious, to a point. The ship had been packed to the brim with cargo containers of every size and description, all lined up in stacked rows, each tethered to the floor with thick steel cables connected to frames set into the floor and ceiling.

The entire section was still powered. The amber emergency lighting lit the walkways between the containers while the light of the red sun shone in from small viewports set into to walls, casting sharp shadows across the walls and floor.

As I stepped across the threshold my WAND started popping out warnings. There was radiation inside, mostly likely bleedthrough from the damaged engines on the upper level, and... something else. I checked the WAND for the environmental readout. According to the readings, there was some kind of poison in the air. Thankfully we were protected in our suits, but it would mean decontamination once we got back to Winter’s Edge.

“That’s weird.” I said.

“What is?”

“There’s some kind of poison in the air.”

“One of the cargo containers must have ruptured in the attack.”

“They were transporting poisonous gas?”

“It’s not gas.”

I gave Nightshade a blank stare. I doubted he could see it but he seemed to read my body language.

“Come here and I’ll show you.” Nightshade casually trotted over to the one of the containers that had broken open during the attack and pried away the rest of the lid, letting it float alongside the container in the empty space. He stepped aside, and I stepped up, peering over the container’s edge while warnings blared into my ears.

Apples. The container was full of apples.

“Now do you see why we need that manifest?”

Poisoned apples. The thought clicked. I filtered through the environmental readings on my WAND. Something was in the air but as Nightshade had said it was not a gas. It was something it identified as a biohazard, some kind of contaminant that was sticking to exposed surfaces and hanging in the air. The apples were not poisoned; the apples had plague.

“Goddesses...” I breathed, revelation taking hold.

“These apples were going somewhere,” Nightshade said, “and if they manage to mix in a batch of bad apples at the right station...”

I did the math in my head. A single shipment of apples could be spread across several colonies. If they mixed in a batch of bad apples, those could infect the local food supplies and then spread to marketplaces. From there, the epidemic would spread, and spread, and spread. Millions would die. No wonder he was so pissed at me for wanting to leave.

“We need that manifest so we know where these were headed. This probably wasn’t the only ship headed there.”

“But, all the computers have been wiped, right?”

“Not all the computers.” His voice held a hint of a smile. He pulled a small tablet out of his pack and held it up for me to see.

“I picked this off of the bridge before leaving. As far as I can tell it hasn’t been wiped yet. It’s encrypted but my contact back home should be able to take care of that. Combined with the data you pulled from the comm relay we should have enough to crack the security.”

“So what’s missing?”

“The manifest. This won’t have that information on it, just their orders, maybe a name we can track.”

“Where do we find it?”

“Actually, I was hoping you could tell me. What do you know about shipping?”

“Practically nothing. I’m a salvager, shipping is for wealthier pilots with bigger ships.”

Nightshade groaned.

Shaking my head, I racked my brain for everything I could think of. Any relevant data, things I had heard or seen in my experience. My experience as a pilot had revolved mostly around salvaging, all of my information on the shipping industry came secondhand, mostly from bucks hanging around the bars on L6-C.

Shipping, shipping... cards!

“Shipping cards!” I proclaimed.

“What?”

“Back on L6, I remember hearing a shipper complaining about the ID cards on his cargo,” I explained. “He was pissed off because the cards said he had deviated from his intended route, and his employer wasn’t going to pay him for the extra time.”

Shipping cards, tracking chips which would record your stops in the galaxy, and your intended destinations.

Nightshade began rapidly pressing buttons on the open container.

“This one’s been wiped.” He announced after a few seconds.

“If they were under attack they wouldn’t have time to wipe all of them would they?”

“Probably not... no. And one of every few would have to pass a health inspection at the docks too.”

“Which means that at least one of these crates is probably full of fresh apples.”

Decoys! I thought.

“So we need to find one of the decoy containers and pull its card!”

“Exactly.”

I took wing in the stale air, zipping from container to container, looking for inspection marks while Nightshade made his rounds down below. I don’t know how many of the damn things I checked, but eventually I found one. Tucked in a corner by the viewports was a small cargo container marked with a large white stamp, a three apple cutie mark with the caption: “Approved: 19JUN4131.”

“I found one!” I called out. Within moments Nightshade was next to me, hacking into it.

“It’s... good! It’s got what we need.”

“Great! Now let’s get the fuck out of here.” I pried the card from the container using my WAND, levitating it into my pack and turning back toward the airlock. I felt a hoof land on my withers, stopping me.

“Too late...” Nightshade announced, peering through one of the nearby viewports. One by one, the sunlight winked out from the windows as a great shadow crept across the deck, plunging the room into the dim, amber hue of the emergency lighting.

“They’re back.”

88% remaining...

Special thanks to the members of Silly Filly Studios for helping me edit this, especially to Zedrin and Rev for their feedback!

06 - Chapter Six: Return to Sender

Chapter Six

Return to Sender

“Tragedy. At 10:13 this morning a massive asteroid struck Celestia’s Providence before the evacuation effort could reach its final stages. The planet and surrounding colonies have gone dark. Millions are presumed dead, and disaster teams have been dispatched to the planet to search for survivors. In the meantime, the rest of us must continue doing the only thing we can. We must believe. Believe in the bravery of those who venture into the destruction and... pray. Pray for their safety.”

- ENN Broadcast: Destruction of Celestia’s Providence - 2513 EC

Static. In the precious minutes following his announcement, we stood together in the semi-dark, quietly listening to the C-Band for any sign of incoming trouble. It was Nightshade’s idea. I watched him squat by his container, taking quick glances outside the viewport while the static blared in my ears, popping occasionally with pain inducing volume. I tried telling him the exercise was pointless. Without the right equipment, you cannot hear what people are saying on the C-Band. All you can hear is static: bursts of loud, screaming white noise followed by deaf silence. Short of a starship’s communication suite, nothing could interpret it.

Nightshade, however, ignored my objections, insisting instead that we listen in. So we did. I scanned the C-Band with my WAND and tuned-in to the only active frequency. Immediately, static screamed into my ears. It came at regular intervals, broken by silence as one transmission ended and another began. As far as I could figure. The two ships were probably just chatting about approach vectors and scan reports, typical communications between vessels in convoy.

Or, maybe that was the point! The bursts of static remained long and even, meaning that whoever was talking was probably giving a report of the current situation without any real sense of urgency, as if everything was normal, and the pilot, or comms officer, was bored. And under that line of thinking...

My mind worked over a few possible conclusions and settled on the most likely, or at the very least, the most hopeful: They didn’t know we were there. Yet.

“Hear anything?” Nightshade asked, still keeping a wary eye on the two ships outside the viewport.

“Yeah, a lot of static,” I replied. “But from the sound of things we may be in the clear, for now.”

“That’s one thing in our favor then.” Nightshade nodded.

“What do we do?”

Nightshade took a backwards glance at the window, before resting his gaze on the airlock door.

“Well from the looks of things we’re trapped in the cargo hold of a derelict transport, and from what I’ve seen of our getaway ship, we’re as good as dead.” He declared.

I facehoofed. The sole of my boot clinked against my visor.

“That’s not helpful.” I said.

“You’re welcome,” he replied dryly, “but in all seriousness, we’ll need to lock down this area before the boarders get here. They’ll want to make sure their delivery hasn’t been tampered with, and we need to be ready for them.”

“Any ideas?” I asked.

“Well, we’re not short on cover. If we try to hide, there is a small chance they won’t find us.” He shook his head, “I doubt it though.”

“Why is that?”

“As soon as those teams land they’re going to start looking for signs of passage,” he said, “and from what I remember, we weren’t exactly subtle in getting in. Any strike team is bound to notice the work we did to clear the wreckage.”

I thought back to the hull. I had really done a number on it trying to clear a path inside, and worse, the cuts were still fresh.

“So that leaves-”

“Fighting,” he said, “fighting or running, and while we’re stuck in here we can’t do much running.”

“Damn.”

“On the bright side we’ve still got plenty of cover, it should give us a better shot at engaging them once they try and penetrate this area.” Nightshade mused.

“Engage them?” I said incredulously, “Engage them with what? Apples?” I flung one of the biohazards at him and he swatted it away with a hoof. The offending foodstuff careened away, bouncing off a bulkhead and rebounding out of sight.

“The cutters,” he clarified.

“Cutters aren’t weapons.” I said.

“No, but anything can be lethal when used incorrectly.” His damn grin flashed through my mind’s eye. Whatever he had planned I was already against it. “Ever hear of a slicer mine?” he continued.

“A what?”

“It’s a little trick I picked up,” he explained. “How many of those charges do you still have on you?”

I nosed through my pack and started counting.
“Three,” I said, “four if you count the one I- Oh! I remember seeing some in the maintenance bay. I don’t know if they’re still fresh though.”

“There’s no harm in checking them. The bay might have something I can use for building the mine.” Nightshade said. “Let’s go. We don’t have much time.”

I nodded.

Nightshade started back toward the airlock and I trotted to follow him. After a few paces, the C-Band crackled loudly.

The static changed. The even static bursts were replaced by shorter ones. Some of the exchanges were followed by long pauses, and then interrupted by much more rapid transmissions. I stopped.

“What’s wrong?” Nightshade asked, halting at the airlock.

“Traffic is picking up on the C-Band.” I said, “It sounds like they’re getting suspicious.”

Or they had spotted the Bandit, I thought grimly.

“Then we’ll need to hurry. Come on.”

We reentered the airlock, raiding the maintenance bay beyond for supplies. The charges were all dead but one, which Nightshade took while he ripped the wiring from a wall panel, securing it to some tubing he grabbed out of the spare parts that were laying around. By the time we were back in the cargo hold, he had loaded a new charge into his cutter and was busily splicing the wire into the cutter’s internal circuits.

“Give me one of those fresh charges,” he ordered, “I’ll need one or two more for this to work.”

I floated him another charge, which he secured to the cutting edge of the blade with the rest of the tubing. After a few more tweaks, he let go of his project and let it hang in the space between us.

“There, that should-”

The rest of what he said was lost as a low, metallic boom shook the ship. For a half-second I stood frozen, fearing that the sparkle drive had overloaded, and we were all about to die. Moments turned into seconds, and aside from a small flicker in the emergency lights, nothing happened. After a few moments of quiet, I started breathing again.

“What was that?” I asked nervously.

“That’s the sound of our time running out.” He explained. “Get to cover, they’re boarding.”

We sealed the airlock behind us as we reentered the cargo hold, taking positions behind the crates nearest the door while we waited for our guests to arrive. Grabbing his improvised weapon, Nightshade trotted next to the door, setting the cutter thingy in the space next to the airlock, before rushing back and taking cover behind the crate across from mine. Across the gap, he turned to me.

“Horizon, when they crack the airlock, I want you to float the cutter inside and draw back the slide. Got it?”

“Got it.” I replied, nodding.

“Good,” he said, “get ready.”

I don’t know how long we waited there, the seconds lasted years. The ship moaned under the periodic booms of whatever was striking the ship. Two booms, three. With each impact the emergency lights flickered, blacking out the room as the wreck rotated onto its dark side. Vividly, I was reminded of the lounge in the slums. The ship boomed, the lights flashed almost like the flash of gunfire, and for a moment I remembered the faces I’d seen, their vivid expressions of fear and confusion overwhelming me.

“Calm down Horizon. Take long slow breaths and focus on something.” Nightshade said.

I was hyperventilating. Mentally, I tried shoving the images of the lounge out of my mind, taking long slow breaths to ease my racing heart. I squeezing my eyes shut, I focused on the crackle of the C-Band.

Short exchanges of static filled my ears. They were rapid transmissions, but at an even, calm pace. They were wary, it seemed. Obviously they had discovered something, but without a direct feed from the Bandit, I would never know what. Another boom sounded from somewhere on the ship this time seemingly from just beyond the airlock.

“Anytime now.” Nightshade said, pressing himself tight against his crate. I imitated him on my side, poking my head around the corner of my container, just enough to keep an eye on the door.

Thunk.

I froze, my eyes glued to the airlock.

Thunk. Thunk.

Hoofboots. The muted hiss of gas filled the chamber beyond.

Panic crept into my chest.

“Focus, Horizon.” Nightshade warned. I exhaled, nodding weakly before resuming my breathing exercise. The airlock door jolted, and then squealed as it cranked open. Through the opening gap, I caught a glimpse of our attackers.

They were armored. Dull colored plating, painted in brown and black fatigues, sat over their flexweave flight suits while they stood guard inside the chamber. The lead pony magically leveled a weapon through the door, while a second reached into the manual override and turned the crank inside. Judging by the magic field around the weapon, the leader was using a WAND.

“Now! Horizon!” Nightshade yelled.

I focused, pushing the mine around the corner and through the gap. The two visible occupants drew back in surprise, the leader dropping his weapon in favor of trying to push the bomb back out with his own WAND.

The bomb halted in space, caught between the conflicting energies of the two WANDS. The pony at the door abandoned the manual override in favor of trying to disarm the new threat.

I drew back the slide and ducked for cover.

FIZZRK.

BANG!

For an instant a scream of steel drowned out the environment. The cutter exploded in a fireball, flinging razor sharp shards of metal in all directions. Shrapnel pinged off the containers as pieces of the charge embedded themselves into every nearby surface in a deafening roar of metal on metal. Nervously, I peered back around the corner of my small cargo container.

The lead pony had taken the brunt of blast, and his gored body floated limp amid the attackers. The second writhed in the plague ridden air, his bleeding hide exposed to the caustic atmosphere. A third pony emerged from behind them, weapon raised, injured, and already succumbing to the ambient poison.

“Go!” Nightshade called, jumping from cover.

Nightshade charged, sliding under the attacker’s weapon as he fired, spinning and bucking the pony into the wall with a sickening crack.

“Here, take a weapon!” Nightshade called, prying a rifle from one of the bodies and flinging it in my direction. I caught weapon with my WAND, doubling back into the cargo hold while Nightshade retrieved one for himself.

The C-Band exploded into traffic. A constant stream of high intensity static blared into my ears so loud that I couldn’t hear Nightshade on the short band. Wincing, I cut the line.

“Well if they didn’t know we were here before, they do now.” I announced.

Two more booms sounded in rapid succession, the emergency lights flickering with each impact.

“What is that?” I called, scanning around for the source of of the noise.

“Reinforcements.” Nightshade replied.

A metallic rending sound came from behind me as a white-hot rod punched through the airlock and secured itself to the blast door.

“Get away from the door!” Nightshade screamed, taking cover. I took my rifle and ran for the nearest container.

A force hit the air. Fire erupted from the airlock, followed by a roar as air vented through the blasted hole. Six armed ponies pushed into the room against the airflow, weapons raised and scanning for targets.

One of them spotted me as I hastily scrambled for cover, and pulped an apple floating inches from my head. I recoiled behind my container. A clang sounded out in the hallway and the roar of air stopped. The airlock ponies surged forward.

Nightshade popped around his container and fired, missing twice and scoring once dead center in the leader’s chest. The leader twitched, and went limp. The others dived for cover, laying down a withering volley of suppressing fire as they spread out across the chamber.

The ship shook as another boom sounded, this one directly overhead. I looked up in time to see the ceiling turn red. Another rod punched through.

A bright flash. Another force hit the air. What used to be ceiling was now an opening, and three more of the heavily armed ponies floated in training weapons in all directions. I raised my rifle and started firing, spraying a mad stream of projectiles at the new arrivals.

My aim was pathetic. I fired high and wide trying to walk the weapon back down onto one of the ceiling ponies. The attackers took cover, hiding among the containers secured to the ceiling, while occasionally returning fire on my very exposed position. I scrambled for cover, pressing up against a cargo container while blindly firing over its lip.

Enemies behind, enemies above, in a horrified moment I realized we were trapped.

“What’s the plan Nightshade?” I called, pressing myself further into my cover. Between the ceiling ponies and the ground party, I was quickly running out of wiggle room. Cautiously, I glanced around the edge of my container.

Nightshade was still trading fire with the airlock ponies. One had gone down but the others were fanning out, closing dangerously on my position and as they gradually surrounded him. Above, the three ceiling ponies popped between containers, firing between movements and steadily forcing me out into the open.

“Kill them, what else?” Nightshade responded. I gawked.

“That’s it?” I yelled back.

“Yeah, it’s nice and simple. It’s hard to fuck that up, right?”

A ceiling pony popped around his container, weapon first. I ducked, and a bolt sailed over my head, scorching the crate behind me. I moved again, switching to a container closer to the wall while firing blindly behind me.

Heart racing, I searched for options.

I had to find better cover. For the moment Nightshade had sandwiched himself between a pair of crates and was doing well, but I was exposed to the ceiling ponies, and once the others reached my position I would be dead. Panicked, I looked around the room for a place to hide, a better location, anything. Within moments I spotted it. Overlooking the cargo bay was a small windowed room with an exposed catwalk snaking up the wall. The bay control room, I realized.

My angle on the control room door was wrong, and getting there would require me to be exposed for a few crucial seconds as I jumped to an appropriate vector. Or at least it normally would, if I didn’t have wings.

I breathed in, spread my wings and gathered my legs beneath me. Levitating my weapon around the container with my WAND, I fired blindly until its magazine finally ran out, cringing as another hot round landed inches from my hindlegs.

I threw my weapon and popped out, darting for the ceiling with a wingbeat. Backbeat, turn. A shot sailed by. and using my wings to change my angle in time for another shot to sail past me. Inches from the upper deck, I leveled off, nearly colliding with a container as I made hasty adjustments for zero gravity. Three of the ground party whirled around at the sudden movement. Nightshade repositioned, taking down another of the distracted airlock ponies in the process, forcing them to reengage.

That left the three ceiling ponies.

I had lost sight of them when I made my move, and the lighting was too poor for me to see well from the ceiling. I could see the control room, however, beckoning to me. The distance would still leave me exposed, but only for an instant. I spread my wings and jumped as hard as I could.

Two ponies swung around the sides of a suspended crate, weapons leveled. I beat my wings for extra speed, sailing through the door as one of the bolts to barely grazed my helmet. I pitched and rolled, smashing hard into the far wall with a thunderous bang.

Pain shot through my body, throbbing in time with my head, as stars danced through my vision. I saw a flash and ducked. The control room window shattered. Shards of glass sprayed into the air transforming the air above me into a veritable blender. I struggled to regain my senses, crawling forward toward the squat console in the room, the only cover from the mass of glass above, doing my best to swat the deadly shrapnel up and out of my way. Outside, I could see the ceiling ponies moving, trying to get their kill shot.

I ducked as another bolt sailed by, planting itself firmly into a locker on the back wall. Frantically, I scanned the console for buttons to push, and my eyes settled on a very particular control.

Gravity.

I slammed a hoof on the button.

The ship shuddered. Wires groaned as heavy containers suddenly strained against their harnesses. Glass crashed to the floor amid the sound of distant gunfire. Just outside I heard three meaty cracks. Peering over the edge of the shattered window, I spotted the ceiling ponies. Only one was still moving, his body twitching violently on the floor.

For a brief moment I felt sick.

“I need some help here Horizon!” Nightshade called, trading more fire with his attackers and hiding again behind his increasingly limited cover. He was completely surrounded. Two of the airlock ponies stood on opposite sides of him, in a deadly flanking position.

“I’m working on it!” I called back, scanning the console for more controls.

Gravity was online, as well as the loading controls and a few others I didn’t recognize. I could drop the containers with the gravity, that would give him a distraction, but I would need something more. As I scanned, my eyes settled on the most meaningful control: the bay door.

“Horizon! Help dammit!” Nightshade yelled, scrambling behind his last bit of cover.

“Run for the catwalk!” I yelled back.

“What? why?”

“Because I’m gonna flush the cargo hold!”

“Oh... FUCK!”

Slamming my hoof down on the button, I activated the loading release for the cargo containers.

There was a deafening clang as holding pins fired in rapid succession. Everypony on the deck stopped, looking around at the sudden commotion. Containers ripped from the ceiling, crashing below as ponies frantically dived out of their way, smashing onto the deck and scattering apples in every direction.

Nightshade ditched his weapon, making a straight charge for the catwalk amid the fresh chaos, surprising a pony who had just moved into position. He jumped him, body checking him into a fallen crate before galloping back into safety, just as the other ponies turned to fire.

Counting to three, I activated the door control.

Warning beacons flared to life inside the cargo bay, as klaxons blared warnings to clear the deck. I ducked underneath the console. With a hiss and a tremendous roar, the bay doors opened to the vacuum. Chaos followed.

Air whipped around me as I took cover inside the room, ripping the glass shards out of the control room with hurricane force. I used my WAND as a shield, pushing the worst of it away as the din roared around me, and prayed I wouldn’t be hit by the deadly chaff. After a few moments of deafening noise, silence returned, broken only by the sound of my air filters.

My ears rang in the ensuing silence, my haggard breathing my only companion. I checked my suit for cuts or leaks. Nothing. I was uncut. I was safe.

I drew a slow, wavering breath, followed by another. I wasted a few precious moments, collecting my senses before crawling out from underneath the console. I rested a hoof onto the gravity control, and then felt my body lift as weightlessness returned.

“Nightshade, are you still there?” Nervously I edged a little closer to the control room door, hoping against hope that I hadn’t activated the door control too soon.

He coughed.

Gingerly, I moved to the edge of the control room door, and peeked into the cargo bay.

The cargo bay was empty. Where the containers had sat, none remained. Beneath the control room door, only the catwalk remained, untouched. Three rungs from the edge, Nightshade hugged its supports, still holding on for dear life and panting heavily.

“A little more warning next time?” He wheezed, pushing himself up and onto the catwalk. He secured himself to the surface.

“Sorry.” I chuckled.

“No, no,” he breathed, sucking wind. “that was good. Heh. Just a little unexpected.”

“So what now?” I asked. Nightshade caught his breath for a moment.

“They’re bound to send more. We need to get out of here.” Nightshade replied.

“Yeah, but, how?” I asked.

Nightshade took a glance at the open bay doors, and I followed his gaze into the black of space beyond. Outside, frozen apples gleamed among the darker shapes of their broken containers. I looked back at Nightshade. Nothing needed to be said, I simply nodded, and, together, we went outside.

We chose the long route for safety. It would not do us any good to get spotted again, especially now that we were in the range of the attack ships guns. After finding some decent cover, we hid behind a smashed piece of armor plating while taking stock of our situation from the ship’s hull.

Our attackers came from two identical ships, their tailfins gleaming in the light of the red sun. They were heavily armed, each equipped with five visible cannons including one large main turret for larger prey, each cannon consisting of a barrel repeater designed for skirmishing. On their hulls their insignia flashed in the sunlight: A gold rose on a bed of thorns. I had never seen that symbol before, at least not of any sovereignty I immediately recognized.

The two large attack ships held an even pace with the wreck as we floated in the abyss, their engines at low power and their vectors matched so perfectly with the wreck that together they remained perfectly still in the black sky, save for the wreck’s slow rotation.

Across the hull of the cargo ship, holes scored the surface where the ship had dropped in combat teams, the tail ends of the drop pods jutting up from the armor plating they penetrated. I counted eight that I could see, which meant that more of our mysterious attackers were probably scouring the ship for us.

I had planned to make a run for it once we were outside, but both ships had trained their guns on the Bandit. If I so much as made the Bandit sneeze, the cruisers would scrap the Bandit the moment its systems powered up. If we were going to get out, we needed a distraction.

Another drop pod shot from the nearest attack ship, designated Eochaidh by the gold lettering painted across its armor. The cargo ship trembled underhoof as the pod pierced its plating, spitting up debris in its wake as it penetrated into the ship’s internal structure. The armor plating buckled from the impact, scoring lines across the surface and further wrenching open its damaged sections. Our hiding placed wobbled in space, eliciting a fresh crack near its base.

My WAND beeped, warning me of more radiation leaking from the freshly damaged surface. I bent down to investigate.

The crack was small, but wide enough for a partial view inside. All I could really see was wiring and a few torn pieces of steel, but deep inside, I also saw a glow. Curious, I calculated our position in relation to what I thought the ship’s layout was.

The damage we were hiding under was on the dorsal side of the cargo ship, nearest the thrusters. It occurred to me then that we standing over the engineering section. Nearby, a large crevice in the hull marked where the ship had been hit by an energy weapon, and appeared to have shot clear into its internal structure.

A mad, mad plan formed in my head.

“Hey Nightshade.” I said, ribbing the pony who was currently keeping a wary eye out for trouble.

“Think of something?” He replied, still scanning the hull.

“I might have, how do you feel about doing something incredibly stupid?”

Nightshade was silent a moment and then turned toward me. His grey eyes regarded me with skepticism through his visor. He shrugged.

“At this point, I don’t see what other options we have.” He glanced up at the attack ships with a resigned sigh. “What’s your idea?”

“I think you’re gonna love this one.” I chuckled.

As far as insane, stupid, and genuinely bad ideas go, this had to be one of my worst.

The engineering section was more spacious than the rest of the ship, and for good reason. It had taken a direct hit, and a melted hole remained where the energy weapon had pierced it, destroying everything in its path including a good portion of the sparkle drive’s support systems.

Despite the damage, however, the sparkle drive continued to operate, the strain upon its failsafes evident in the angry red glow of its core. Brilliant rainbow-colored light shone out of the drive where its casing had melted, its exposed magical core sparking randomly. Around the drive, large cooling pipes fed into the drive’s frame, pumping much needed fluids back into the machine to help keep it stable. The pipes snaked around the room, some ending abruptly where the blast had melted them shut.

Lining the walls were banks of consoles, some operational, most not, whose monitors filled with error messages warning of impending doom. Nearby, overturned chairs floated in space along with the corpses that once occupied them.

As we entered through the damaged section, a warm feeling washed over me. It was almost pleasant, a subtle, warm tingle that spread from head to hooves, bathing me in what felt wondrously like a warm shower. Keen logic said otherwise.

The area was inundated with intense levels of magical radiation, strong enough to bleed through the suits. With every second we wasted, we were being cooked alive.

We had to hurry.

“Horizon, I’m starting to have second thoughts about this. I can feel the radiation in here. I’m pretty sure that’s not a good sign.” Nightshade said, standing guard behind a support beam and keeping a wary eye on the door to engineering. Several feet away, I bent over the safe side of the sparkle drive near the coolant pipes, keeping as much distance between myself and drive’s kill zone as I could physically manage.

“I know,” I said, pulling out my cutter, “and we’re not going to stay, I just need to pull the drive regulator so we can get out of here.” If anything could provide ample enough distraction for us to escape, an exploding starship would. And if the drive was as operational as I thought it was, it would be more than just a little explosion.

I stuffed another charge into my cutter and activated it. The tool flared, and I got to work, dialing down the output so as not to damage the sensitive components inside. As I set the blade to the metal, the drive sparked and an arc of lighting bent back around the killzone. I froze, deciding to reduce the output a little more before continuing.

My progress was agonizingly slow. I started my cut, praying I wouldn’t cut something vital in the process. After several minutes of cutting, I began to feel uncomfortably warm. The warm tingle progressed to a more searing heat over time, and from what I could see of my earth pony companion, Nightshade felt it too. We needed to get out before we passed out in the heat.

Then the door opened.

Nightshade shouted a warning and I kicked off the panel as another bolt flashed by me. Two ponies in armor charged in. I slammed into a wall, and then tried to jump out of sight. Tried. Flash rounds perforated my escape route and I found myself trapped between the coolant pipes and the drive’s kill zone. The new arrivals trotted warily into the main chamber, training their weapons ahead of them as they approached.

I edged along one of the coolant pipes, trying carefully to get closer to the wall while remaining as small and out of sight as possible. I floated up, making small adjustments, a scoot here, a nudge there, all while the two ponies spread out to find me. I climbed my way up the pipe toward the ceiling, and from there, followed it around to the kill side of the sparkle drive. The drive flared hungrily, perhaps sensing the organic tissue moving into range.

The flare caught one of the ponies attention, his weapon swinging through the air toward the drive and then up the coolant pipe. I hid, willing myself to scoot a little faster.
The pony strafed, moving inside the guard rail while the other paced around the far side of the chamber. Nightshade was nowhere to be seen.

I moved again, making a careful, short jump behind one of the coolant pipes next to the drive.

The lead pony wheeled about, firing wildly. The bolt planting firmly into a pipe above my head and spewing fluid into the open space. I bolted for the floor kicking hard and landing harder.

Stupidly, the pony moved in for the kill. He jumped straight at my position and into the drive’s killzone. He realized his mistake just a moment too late.

The drive flashed. A bolt of lightning struck the pony in the chest, warping the space around him and causing his body to distort terribly. The pony writhed as he disintegrated, a brilliant flash of light and color.

Mortified, the other pony backpedaled away from the drive. Nightshade popped out from his cover and tackled him, dislodging the weapon he was holding before slamming him helmet first into the nearby console, shattering the display. The pony kicked booting Nightshade off him with his hindlegs while he recovered. Both dived for the weapon floating in the space between them.

A growing warmth reminded me of what I should have been doing. Ignoring the fight, I moved back to the panel and resumed my cut, carefully drawing a line across the top side and ripping the rest away. Heat washed over me.

The drive’s inside was just as I expected. A module, pulsing white with energy, interrupted the connection between the drive’s power intake and its primary capacitors. Behind it, I saw a pair of backups.

I yanked one of the modules and let it fly, discarding my cutter in the process. Lightning arced between the connections and the remaining regulators pulsed, struggling to combat the increased load. A wave a nausea washed over me. My vision was blurry, my skin burned and I felt sick. I felt like I was melting! My WAND screamed warnings at me, dulled by a dizzying sensation that made the room sway. Gritting my teeth I pulled away from the open panel, and scanned the room through an encroaching haze.

All around the room the consoles flashed red, I kicked to the nearest one and read the new message, squinting to clear my steadily worsening vision.

Critical drive failure. Evacuate premises.

Perfect.

“We’re good to go!” I called out, kicking away from the console. Everything in the room moved in the wrong direction. I crashed into the bulkhead instead of landing. Orientation left me. My hooves scrabbled for a fresh, magnetic footing as I rebounded off the wall. In an instant Nightshade was next to me, wrapping his forelegs around me and hefting me with him toward the hole leading outside.

Dizzy, I watched over Nightshade’s shoulder as the drive started to crack and flare, pulsing wildly as it drew more and more power, overpowering the remaining regulators struggling to control it.

The fuse was lit.

We cleared the damage and Nightshade stuck me to the deck as I steadied myself, the head in my body slowly dissipating, while my head cleared. I stumbled forward and Nightshade bumped me to get me moving. I started trotting, slowly at first, until my head was clear enough to gallop. Nightshade shot past me, and I tried to catch him. We abandoned all effort at stealth. If anyone was scanning the ship hull they would have seen two ponies rushing to the aft section as if Discord himself was on their flanks. Time ticked down in my head as we ran. The drive could go at any moment, and we didn’t have any time to lose.

“Horizon! Where’s the ship?” Nightshade called from up ahead, stopping dead before the edge of a drop off before the rear thrusters.

I stopped too, whipping my head back and forth trying to spot the Bandit. My eyes locked onto the attack ships, and then to the debris field disappearing around the thrusters. The Bandit was nowhere in sight.

“I... I don’t see it!” I called back. My eyes snapped back to the attack ships. They were tracking something, but not on this side of the wreck.

We altered course, running onto the sun side of the wreck. As the debris field once again crested the edge, I spotted it. Hiding behind the field of debris, the Scrap Bandit floated dead, its vector canted away and slowly gaining distance from the wreck.

Dumping the cargo had altered the ship’s course. Jumping to the Bandit from here would be suicide.

A gleam caught my eye. A frozen apple reflected light in the distance, framed in the shadow of its container. An idea struck me.

We couldn’t jump from the ship to the Bandit, but we could jump from the debris field. I communicated my idea to Nightshade, and he agreed. Together, we jumped into the debris field between us and the bandit, bouncing off containers until we had a straight shot at our ticket home.

We stopped at the last container between us and the Bandit, lining up up our final spacewalk. I looked at the Bandit in the distance, and judged its slight drift. Our jump was going to be a tough one, especially at this distance.The distance was still too great, if only just a little. My jump had to be exact if I was going to land at all.

Without time for hesitation, I made my move. I made a calculation, judged my vector, and jumped, whispering a prayer to Luna as my hooves left safety. I entered empty space.

Everything moved in unison. Behind me, loomed the two attack ships, barely occluding sun behind their mass. The cargo ship shrank in the distance, as well as the debris field and Nightshade preparing for his own jump. Ahead, the Bandit slid across my vision, slowly entering the area I jumped for. My escape, I hoped. I controlled my breathing to fight the panic building in my chest, taking slow, steady breaths, and started calculating my landing.

Sixty feet. Forty. Twenty. I was on target. I would make it.

I let out a sigh of relief.

The Bandit grew, slightly left of my target, but on target nonetheless. I touched down on the tail end of the ship and turned, securing myself to the hull before looking to monitor Nightshade’s approach.

Nightshade had not jumped as hard as I had, he was a distance behind me, but was drifting ever slightly upward. He was going to miss.

Desperately I focused, my radiation addled brain struggling as my WAND attempted to alter his trajectory. The distance was great, and Nightshade was heavier than a simple tool. I strained, a migraine starting to pound inside my head.

Thirty feet, his upward movement stopped, but he was still too high. Fifteen, He started to angle downward.

Five. I stretched to my full length, pulling down with my WAND and extending hooves to catch him. He stretched. We locked fetlocks and I pulled, the combined force of my WAND and my forelegs wrenching him up, around, and down to safety.

He locked onto the deck, visibly shaken.

“Thanks.” He said, voice wavering slightly.

“We’ll talk about favors later, get inside.” Rushing across the hull, I swung myself into the cockpit through the open viewport.

I locked into my harness, flicking switches on as rapidly as I dared. Systems powered up begrudgingly, but with each green light I gave myself a little cheer for victory.

System power, sensors, communications. The C-Band popped to life.

“That wreck is powering up! Shoot it!”

uh-oh.

“Copy S... wait... Sreng, I’m detecting an energy spike from cargo ship!”

Thrusters. I flicked the switch and the ship shuddered horribly. I flicked it several more times, rerouting power from less vital systems to try and get even one of the thrusters to light. My WAND screamed warnings of an overload in the auxiliary power grid. I flicked it again. Navigation went online; thruster three fired, followed by two and four.

“Eochaidh, its sparkle drive is overloading! Get out of there!”

One more flick. Thruster one lit. We were in business. I throttled up and the ship surged forward. Nightshade swore over the comms, followed by a thud and a grunt on his end.

“Oh no you don’t you little shit!”

Two rounds flashed past the cockpit. I threw the bandit into a sidelong dive and pitched hard. The two attack ships slid into view.

The Sreng was tracking me, its weapons spitting off rounds as its cannons spun up, while the Eochaidh had pushed all its power into its engines, burning madly to get away from the exploding cargo ship.

Light flashed in the void. A large portion of the wreck’s hull bulged and warped, before several portions of its armor plates disintegrated and gave way to the exploding core of the ship’s drive. A small sun ignited inside the heart of the cargo ship, flinging shrapnel and spitting lightning from the energy vortex of the detonating drive, as a warped ball of sheer magical destruction surged outward.

A bolt of lightning snapped across the lead ship, too close to the explosion, penetrating its shields and cutting a jagged line clear across its exposed underbelly. The Eochaidh lurched, keeling to one side and its armor warping under the magical strain. Its figure warped, as the space around it distorted hideously. Its armor buckled. Small explosions started breaking along the hull shedding air and debris into space until the damage finally penetrated its ammo storage.

The pilot of the Eochaidh screamed over the C-Band as the ship detonated.

“BASTARD! You’ll pay for that!” The second pilot screamed.

I slammed on the distress beacon while pushing the thrusters to their limit. The ship rocked forward.

The barrels on the enemy cannons spun up.

Projectiles sailed by in a random pattern, trying to predict the vector of the bandit as we danced in the vacuum. I brought the ship into sharp, uneven turn before dodging behind the debris field left behind by the two ships, hot death trailing ever so slightly around me.

I counted seconds in my head as I powered the sparkle drive desperate to get away from the ship’s guns.

An error popped up on my WAND.

The sparkle drive was still on cooldown.

“Fuck!” I screamed.

Nightshade had recovered.

“Where’s the turret on this damn thing?” he yelled.

“I don’t have one!”

“Oh you have gotta be shitting me!”

The Sreng crested the debris field, engines fully powered and ready to give chase. I turned, dodging a large piece of armor plating as more of the cannonfire zipped past in a lethal stream.

The ship jolted as several rounds struck home.

Thruster two died, followed by power to the distress beacon.

Using my WAND I input a command to reroute through the auxiliary power, but to no effect. The damn circuits had fried during ignition.

My remaining thrusters were pushing me off course, forcing the ship to pitch and yaw while the cruiser above spat hot death through the wreckage. I rolled to correct, trying to relight thruster two while simultaneously pulling up behind another large chunk of armor plating.

Unexpectedly, thruster two relit. The thruster fired, and the bandit smashed into the armor chunk. The ship shuddered as the piece of wreckage sheared the topside, denting the canopy and shattering what was left of the viewport in the process. I ditched the controls in favor of clearing the plexiglass with my WAND, desperate not to get cut in the process.

Another round struck home.

My WAND screamed warnings at me. Thruster three was now out of power as well as thruster four. Hull breaches riddled the ship, and I was getting a massive flux in the sparkle drive.

“Gotcha! You little bitch!”

Another round penetrated. The interior lights flickered, and to my horror I lost the last of my thrusters.

I was a sitting duck.

“Where ya gonna run cunt?” the enemy pilot said with a wicked laugh. “Now hold still. I want you to see this one coming.”

I switched the board power to my WAND for the cockpit controls, running rapid diagnostics through the ship’s computer.

The sparkle drive was dead, thrusters were gone too. All systems were offline save for the running lights and the C-Band.

We were dead.

The cruiser passed just overhead on its side, the ship’s cannons tracking the Bandit while the vessel matched velocities. The main turret rotated, locking directly onto the cockpit.

I stared down the barrel of a loading cannon.

The cannon chambered.

A particular consonant looped in my head.

A flash of electric blue danced across the Sreng’s shield as a shell exploded against it, rocking the ship and throwing it off target. The Sreng fired wide, missing the Bandit as its turrets wheeled fast to meet the new challenge bearing down on it. Three more rounds followed the first, slamming into its shield with crippling force and rocking the Sreng off its bearing.

In the far distance, I spotted my salvation. A battleship, a gigantic boat that dwarfed the attack ship by a factor of two, had landed on grid, aiming all six of its massive repeaters at its cornered adversary.

“Hostile ship,” a terse voice challenged over the C-Band, “you have violated the territorial space of the Earth Pony Republic. Prepare to be destroyed.”

A drive jammer’s beam slammed into the attack ship. The attack ship’s thrusters fired, accelerating while its guns rapidly returned fire. The battleship stood, focusing its weapons to a point and laying down a broadside volley. Under the withering fire of the battleship’s guns, the Sreng’s shield faltered, the concentrated attack warping it red as all six repeaters rained death upon it.

In moments, the focused fire penetrated. Round after round slammed against the armor of the attack ship, which buckled under the strain until finally the gunfire pierced through its aft section, wrecking its main thrusters.

The Sreng’s engines sputtered and died, the ship breaking course under the battleship’s fire. Off kilter, the Sreng returned fire, the death throes of a prey outfought, targeting down, shooting blindly into the encroaching abyss as its predator circled for the kill.

The battleship’s engines fired, bringing its bow to bear. Space warped around the its tip as its main cannon prepared to fire. The pilot of the Sreng swore.

Light erupted from the battleship’s bow. Drowning out the black sky with a beam like the core of a sun. The energy lance blasted through the Sreng’s weakened shields, penetrating the ship nose to tail. The pilot didn’t even have time to scream.

Gutted, what remained of the Sreng hung dead in space.

I stared at the spectacle with equal parts awe and horror, my vision trying to erase the discolored bar of light from the beam’s afterglow.

“Distressed starship, respond.” The same terse voice called.

I blinked.

“Distressed starship, respond.” He repeated.

Breathing felt surreal. I keyed a response. My WAND beeped.

“It looks pretty bad sir, I don’t think they made it.” A distant voice said.

“Distressed starship, respond.” The commander, I guessed he was the commander, ordered again. I tried sending again, and then read the error message from my WAND.

Error 42: Transmission unavailable.

The transmission hardware had been sheared off. The C-Band could not transmit a response.

“Distressed starship, last call. Respond.”

I tried sending over and over again, before switching tactics. Thinking fast, I flashed the running lights, with a simple message in code:

STILL ALIVE

“Copy distressed starship, prepare for tow.”

I exhaled, letting out a shuddering breath, relaxing for the first time since the whole mess started. As the tension left my body, peripheral feeling returned, along with a new discovery:

I needed to take a shower.
___
88% remaining...

Author's Note

I'm really not satisfied with this chapter. It feels very meh to me, but after spending the last month trying to clean this up I feel it's probably time I moved onto the next one. Feedback appreciated. What worked? What didn't? What's god awful, all of it? some of it? I appreciate all feedback!

Intermission - Everyone Needs A Breather

Intermission:

Everyone Needs A Breather

“You know what I need? I need a break. I’ve been doing this for too long.”

What happened on the cargo ship left me rattled for quite some time. After getting picked up by the local militia, Nightshade and I were dragged back to Winter’s Edge and interrogated—Separately, I might add. Apparently, blowing up a derelict cargo ship containing a deadly virus aimed at poisoning food supplies, warranted a full debriefing, and some very pointed questions about how we ended up there in the first place. I happily told them everything I knew, which was nothing. The whole damn outing had been sprung on me under the guise of an ordinary scrap job. Though, after the trouble we went through beforehand, I should have realized I couldn’t trust Nightshade.

We were held up in processing for a day. I managed to get some sleep in a cell, courtesy of their police department, before being toted off to the medical centers for a mandatory radiation scrub. Lucky for us, the virus we had been exposed to had been cooked off of our suits, but we still needed treatment for our radiation burns. Recovering from that took time. We were both held under surveillance then finally released. The nurse gave me a spank on the flank and told me not to go running around live reactors any time soon. I told her I’d do my best. I met up with Nightshade, and we set out to find the Bandit.

While we were being interrogated, the militia towed the Bandit into the docks for repair. We found it in one of the bargain docks, a cheap, run-down business that looked more like a junkyard than an actual repair shop. When I identified myself as the Bandit’s owner, the buck in charge practically glowed—I figure he thought I’d be a repeat customer. He handed me the estimate for the repair, and I promptly excused myself. I won’t tell you how many zeroes were on that bill. After seeing the repair bill, I figured I was done. My career as a pilot was over. And then that bastard offered to help me.

I don’t know how he pulled it out of his ass. Nightshade made a few calls, and then told me he could have the Bandit fixed in two weeks if I agreed to do him another big favor. I gave him a black eye and stormed out. He took that as a yes.

I spent the next two weeks avoiding Nightshade until the bill was paid. I wasn’t terribly successful. He caught up with me and paid me for my trouble—a whole six thousand bits—and then left me again just as quickly. I spent the time bouncing between Tuck’n’Rolls, and having meals at Donut Joe’s. Joe, as I had started to call the barpony, was happy to see me at least. I decided to make myself useful and helped him out with a few things, same with Fritter. They’re good folks, they deserve it. Granted, the work they offered me wasn’t glorious, but it kept my mind off things. It also saved my ass.

Late one afternoon, I was approached by a buck from Fritter’s information network. He told me I had lost something, and gave me a tablet with a message from Fritter. It read:

Horizon,

First off, I’m sorry. I started looking into your background after we first met. I wanted to know why you left the PC. Now I know. I met somepony today, and I hope you’re willing to pay me a huge favor for this because this is really important.

I know everything.

I know about Junkyard, I know about the murder, and I’m very sure you didn’t do it. So what I’m going to tell you next, I want you to take in the most urgent sense.

The PBJ has sent a headhunter to find you.

She’s on the station.

Run.

Author's Note

Hey! Author's notes, this looks handy.

Call this a cop out or what have you. I decided that I should probably put in a time skip to glaze over some of the more mundane details. I needed to sort this out and after five different rough drafts for the next chapter I decided to go with the simplest route.

Sorry!

Enjoying the story? Like it? Hate it? Feedback is appreciated. No, really.

07 - Chapter Seven: Scotch and Sandwiches

Chapter Seven

Scotch and Sandwiches

[ENTRY REDACTED] - 2560 EC

My heart skipped a beat as I read and reread Fritter’s message. I had hoped that by fleeing the PC I might have been able to leave my problems behind me. I’d disappear and the whole thing would resolve itself. Granted, I’d never be able to return, but at least I’d be safe. So much for assumptions. The Pegasus Bureau of Justice wanted me found, and now one of their deputies was on the station.

I had to run, but I had a problem. It had nothing to do with the fact that my ship was still detained in the repair docks—as far as I knew the repairs were almost done, if they hadn’t been completed already—no, my problem was a destination. If I ran, where would I go?

I fled to this sector because I knew the local government wouldn’t cooperate with the Pegasus authorities, or at least so I’d thought. The relationship between the EPR and the PC had been heated for centuries. I found it hard to believe that they would willingly work together to find a petty fugitive. But then again, the Sandwich Corps had always been known for being resourceful; they probably didn’t even need help. When I left Luna six, I chose the EPR because I didn’t know of anywhere else to go. Now I couldn’t stay here either, but I had no other options. I could have tried another station, but with the officer following me, it wouldn’t take her long to catch up, and I was damn sure that anywhere else I went, I wouldn’t have a network to rely on.

Hiding was the next option, but it had the same issue. Hiding would imply that I knew where to hide. Even after living here for two weeks, I could barely navigate the station without my WAND, much less find someplace to hide. There were the slums, but that was a bad idea for obvious reasons. In the few weeks after Clip and Daisy died, the slums became a war zone. Word of gang violence and killings had flooded the news channels, the radio, and practically every media outlet on the station. The gangers were leaderless, and all of them were trying to get a piece of the underworld, one bloody chunk at a time. And the police? They didn’t care. From what Joe told me, the authorities had decided to let them fight it out. ‘The problem was resolving itself,’ or some bullshit like that.

The only option I had left was to ask for help, but who could I trust? Could I trust Fritter? Logically, yes. Fritter’s business was information, and he made a good living making sure people got the information they needed at the right time. I counted it good fortune that he thought of me as enough of a friend to give me a heads-up about this. But he was out because of his location. Running around public places asking for help is asking for trouble, especially since the pony I’d be looking for was the one who told me to run in the first place.

Could I ask Nightshade? Fuck no. While Nightshade would know more ponies who could help me, anything I asked him for would probably land me in an even larger shitstorm. If I never saw him again it would be too soon.

That left Joe. I needed advice, and he was kind enough during my time here to always point me in the right direction or so it seemed. Could I trust him? I didn’t know. What I did know was that he made a mean breakfast, and he was always happy to lend an ear during the slower hours. He might know what to do. It was a risk, but I felt it was probably a good one. Joe always did seem happy to see me, regardless of my situation. I decided that was what I’d do.

---

“Hey! It’s my favorite customer!” The barpony said with a sunny smile. Over the past two weeks I’d been giving him 10 bit tips for his services. I figured if it saved my flank once, it might again. Good habits. “The usual?”

“Not right now, Joe, I’ve got a bit of a situation.”

The barpony paused in his polishing, raising an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s the problem? Eightball trying to take you out again?”

“Not exactly,” I said. I reared up onto the countertop dropping my voice as low as possible. “Do you have time to talk in private?”

I should mention at this point that the bar was completely empty. Joe gave me a look as if I was high on crash.

“Maybe,” he said slowly, putting away his cleaning rag. “whadd’ya need to talk about?”

“Something that I’d rather not have ponies walk in on.”

Frowning, Joe set the glass down on the bar counter, and indicated the back room with a jerk of his head.

“Back here.” He said. Joe opened the counter for me to slip by, and I followed him into the back. He led me into a small break room. A microwave sat on a counter next to a coffee maker and a pile of filters. One of the cabinet doors was missing, a spilled bag of coffee grains hiding just out of sight. Joe helped himself to the pot of coffee. He offered me some, but I politely declined. He sat down at the small round table across from the counter and I sat in the only other chair available. It must have been missing a foot or something, because it rocked unsteadily.

“Alright,” Joe said, sipping his coffee, “what’dja get yerself into this time?”

After the chaos on-board the cargo ship, I spent a lot of my waiting time at Joe’s, specifically for meals. Joe had the best damn food I had ever eaten, though, I admit I’m comparing it to prepackaged meals from the grocer’s and hospital food. His food was better than Fritter’s, that was the important part. His breakfasts were the best. During my meals, I told Joe all about what happened with Nightshade. I don’t know if he really cared, I was just another customer after all, but he seemed interested at the time.

“Remember when I told you about that trouble I had in the PC?” I said, fidgeting in my chair.

Joe looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Yeah, I do.” He said.

“I think it’s about time I told you the full story.”

I told him everything, I told him about the murder, the mix-up, my escape, and how I ended up with a starship of all things. Then he surprised me.

“Yep, that’s about what Fritter told me.” Joe said, taking another sip of his coffee.

My eye twitched.

“You already knew?”

“I don’t make my living ignoring other ponies’ problems, Horizon. Fritter said you might come to me after you got the message about your trouble. Shocked me, I’ll say, but after what you pulled down-under, I figured it was only a matter of time.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, ya haven’t exactly been maintaining a low profile, if you know what I mean.” Joe chuckled.

Sure I had! I just had to start a gang war to get my WAND back! And also blow up a cargo ship. Oh.

My realization must have shown on my face, because Joe started laughing.

“Yer dense, ya know that?” he chuckled.

I couldn’t find a reason to disagree with him. I buried my head under my hooves while my face burned.

“Now what do ya need me to do?” Joe shifted in his seat, taking another sip from his coffee cup and setting it down on the table between us. I took a moment to compose myself.

“I need advice.” I said.

“On running?” he asked.

“On hiding.” I sighed. “The Bandit is still in the shop, and it’s not going anywhere until Nightshade tells the reppers to release it.” As far as I knew, Nightshade could have called them at any time, but he didn’t just so could dangle my freedom in front of me in the face of some new threat—the bastard. “I was hoping you knew someplace I could go?”

Joe straightened in his seat, chewing on his cheek while he thought over my question. His expression was unreadable. For a moment I thought that I had made a mistake in coming to him.

“So, that’s it then,” he muttered. “Well, my first suggestion was going to be get off the station, but since that’s out, I guess you’re shit outta luck.”

Face, meet table. Nice to meet you table. I groaned.

“Almost.” He added dryly. My ears perked as I looked up at him hopefully.

“See, there’s this place I know down near the slums that should be empty. A fella I knew used to go around making deliveries and came here after his shift. Got himself shot up one day on his route. As far as I know his place is still clear. You could probably stay there till we figure out what to do.”

While I didn’t want to head back into the slums again, that sounded better than nothing.

“That sounds perfect. How do I get in?” I asked.

Joe smiled as his horn glowed, levitating out a keyring and swipe card from one of his pockets.

“Don’t drink and drive.” He chuckled.

The news had said the situation in the slums was bad. What they didn’t say was just how bad. As Joe and I made our way through the lower levels to find the vacant apartment, I got to experience the situation for myself. It didn’t seem so bad at first. Each corridor was as empty as the next. It wasn’t until we had crossed several levels that I realized what the lack of ponies meant. Before the gang war, these corridors used to have the occasional passerby, somepony going about their business, or another. Now, everything was empty.

Then we entered the slums.

Our even pace stopped. So did my heart.

Sweet Discord, father of chaos.

Blood, bodies, barricades, the slums had become a graveyard. Smears of blood tracked long lines across the ground where bodies had fallen and been dragged through the corridors to form barricades of dead gangers, a warning to all who might dispute the territory. The long corridors had been turned into kill zones, forcing us to find long, winding detours over several levels, bringing our progress to a slow crawl. Twice we had to hide, dodging into stairwells and closets to avoid the roaming patrols of gangers searching for more victims. Exactly once, we tried to negotiate our passage. We were lucky they simply said no.

To say I was scared was something, but this... I felt numb, and number still that I was to blame for it.

“Don’t you go thinking like that.” Joe told me after a particularly bad section, “I know you might feel responsible fer all this, but know this: it was gonna happen sooner or later. You were just a convenient excuse.”

I wished I could have shared his opinion.

Eventually, we found our way through. We skirted the worst of the fighting and managed to find our way into the lower residential areas without much more trouble. We finally stopped in a section that looked like it hadn’t seen ponies in months. For all intents and purposes, that was probably a good thing.

“Here ya are,” Joe announced as we stopped in front of one of the apartments, “home sweet home.”

“Home sweet home,” I echoed uncertainly.

The door didn’t look like anything. Apart from the number above the door console, it looked like every other door on the station, utterly average and completely unremarkable.

“I know it may not look like much, and it ain’t, but it should be better than stayin in them tuck’n’rolls.”

Joe swiped the keycard through the slot and the door opened begrudgingly.

“That should do it.” He said, stepping aside. “Stay here and you’ll be just fine. Just don’t go wanderin too far from here. This place is dangerous, especially recently. I know these corridors might seem empty, but you never know when one of those patrols might come strolling by looking for salvage, or victims. Got it?”

“Got it.” I nodded.

“Good.”

“Say, you wouldn’t know who is looking for me would you?” I asked.

Joe shook his head.

“Naw, but Fritter probably does. I’ll send him your way once I get back. Just sit tight for a while till we get things sorted.”

“Right, thanks Joe.”

“Don’t mention it. Though, I reckon yer gonna owe me for this one.” He laughed.

I owed a lot of ponies a lot of things. It was probably going to get me killed sooner or later.

“By the way,” he continued, “you packin?”

“What now?” I asked.

“Weapons, ya got one right?”

My sheepish grin told him everything he needed to know. Joe groaned.

“Son, you are gonna give me a migraine at this rate. Alright,” he fixed me with a serious look, “I’m going to have Fritter bring you a weapon later on and I want you to keep it on you at all times, ya hear?”

“I...um, don’t know how to use one.” I admitted lamely.

Joe stared at me, his expression softening ever so slightly.

“Well then, Horizon, I suggest you learn right quick, because this here’s the real world. Here, there’s blood. You can keep living in that little bubble of yers if you want, but if you’re gonna survive, yer gonna need to learn how to protect yerself. I can’t say much for whatever damn luck you’ve had so far, but if you don’t learn how to fight... well,” Joe sighed, “It’s gonna bite ya.”

“I’ll... remember that,” I said. “I promise.”

“Damn well you better. Take care now.”

“You too,” I replied.

Joe left. As he disappeared around the corner , I couldn’t help but think he had a little lead in his step. Silently, I stepped inside the abandoned apartment.

The apartment was still furnished, but in the absence of care, a thin layer of grime had settled over everything. The air stank, smelling strongly of mildew and rot. The utilities, however, appeared to be working. I flicked on the lights and took in the sights.

The apartment was a single room flat, a step down from the one bed, one bath deal I had back on L6-C, but in much better condition. It looked like a standard studio. Near the door, a small counter space sat next to an immovable refrigerator and freezer combo, amid a modest pantry and, of all things, an antique toaster. It took only a few minutes to figure out that the pungent odor came from the fridge. The food inside had long since rotted, and had probably grown some new, lethal strain of indigestion.

The rest of the room held a dining table with several wide stools, a sofa and small television set. A fish tank sat in the corner next to the sofa. The fish were dead. A small, open bottle of fish food sat next to the tank amid a scattering of food flakes. The sofa smelled like old potato chips, some of which peeked out from between the sofa’s cushions.

Nosing around the room, I took an inventory of the apartment’s supplies. The pantry was not well stocked, and I decided the refrigerator was better off closed. The previous occupant looked to be on the verge of another grocery run before his untimely end. There were only a couple boxes of cereal left, plus maybe a cup of flour, some sugar and salt, and a half-empty bottle of vanilla. I figured whoever lived here previously was just about to go get groceries. In the back of the pantry, I found a prize. A bottle of fine scotch was tucked away inside an unopened gift basket, a paper note attached to the bottle labeled ‘For you: Rainy Days.’

I stopped as I saw the note, then, curiosity piqued, I untied it from the bottle to get a better look at it. It was a letter. I unfolded it and started reading.

Hi Rainy!

I know it’s been awhile since we last talked, but after our last trip out to the mall, I just wanted you to know that I had a great time. I normally don’t get to go out very often, so it’s refreshing to be able to spend a day with a good friend.

Now, I know it’s been a few years since the accident, and while business still isn’t quite back to normal here at the shop, I want you to know that I don’t blame you for what happened, not in the slightest. I’m just glad you were there to help me through it. That’s why I’m giving you this. To thank you for being there. Save it for a Rainy day! Hee hee!

Keep your chin up! Oh! And congratulations on your promotion! You’ll make management in no time!

Yours in Love,

Gem Shine.

I set the letter down on the counter, feeling cold and dirty.

I had just invaded someone’s home, someone’s life. Granted, it was a life that was gone, but it was a life nonetheless. One day, this pony didn’t come home. Perhaps a fellow victim of circumstance, or simply a cruel twist of fate. And here I was, raiding his pantry. Feeling guilty, I put the scotch back in the gift basket and tucked it back into its place. The thought of it, however stayed with me.

What if it was me? I thought.

What if I died? I certainly could have over the last two weeks. A single thing gone wrong and I could have asphyxiated out in space, been vaporized in a sparkle drive accident, got fried in my escape from L6 or got shot in the Daisy Dawn’s lounge. Hell, the number of times I could have died during the cargo ship fiasco I didn’t even want to count. Maybe I was luckier than I gave myself credit for. Or maybe not, considering that I was still only a half trot ahead of a jail cell. Rainy Days had run out of luck. When would I?

I sat down on his sofa, feeling the lumpy cushions, beaten into a pulp after years of abuse, shift underneath me. The sofa sagged under my weight, the center bar had broken at some point. Part of it jabbed me in the gut, forcing me to adjust my position. It felt a lot like my couch.

I missed my couch.

It was stupid really. Of all the silly things I could think of, I chose the one thing that mattered least: My couch, my old rotten apartment, my nasty bottles of warm cider and canned dinners, my shitty job, my long hours in space, despite everything I hated about my old life, I missed it. I missed it all.

This place was similar. Rainy Days lived a life like mine before he died. Granted, his living situation was a little bit nicer, but all the pieces were there. Crappy, dangerous job, check. Love life...well, maybe I could improve on that. His apartment, though, it was just a place to crash, nothing more, nothing less. It was just like home.

It felt like home.

I laid my head down on the cushion and wept.

Hours passed. I slept through most of it. I don’t remember what I dreamed of—probably flying.
I was awoken by a knock at the door.

“Hey, you in there? It’s Fritter.”

Groggily, I rolled onto the floor from the sofa. The rest had done me some good, at least for my spirits, anyway. I walked to the door and keyed the door control. When the door opened, I blinked. Two ponies stood outside. Fritter and Joe smiled back.

“Plus one.” Joe added with a warm smile. A small brown bag floated next to him in his TK. “I thought you might like somethin to eat, so I went ahead and built a sandwich on the house.”

I accepted it gratefully, setting it on the counter with my mouth while the other two stepped inside. Three seconds in, Fritter started gagging.

“Holy hell! What died?” Fritter’s face wrinkled as he waved a hoof in front of it to disperse the smell. I suppressed an urge to sniff myself.

“Aw, come on now, it’s not that bad.” Joe laughed, taking a seat at the table.

“It’s moist! Ah fuck! I can feel it clinging to my mouth! Eugh!”

“Oh suck it up. It’s just the refrigerator.” I said

“I think that’s what he’s tryin not to do,” Joe chuckled.

After they had settled I asked,“You had something for me?”

Fritter snorted. “Yeah, though from what I hear you’re going to need a bit of help using it.” He poked around in his pack and pulled a weird-looking object. It took me a moment to recognize it.

“Is that a-”

“Yep!” Fritter chimed, “Standard mark one energy pistol. It’s a low caliber, but it can still bite. And it should be able to integrate with your WAND if you have the right program for it.”

“That must have been expensive.” I said.

“Not really.” Joe said, “The right vendors have these kinds of things real cheap. It’s the targeting program that’ll cost ya.”

“So how much do you need for it?” I asked wearily.

“This one’s free.” Fritter said

I hate this place.

“Let me guess. You want me to do you a favor.” I said. Both of them grinned at me. They looked like hyenas staring down their prey, or timberwolves.

I sighed, resigned to my situation. I wasn’t going to get out of this by myself anyway. “Alright, what do you want me to do?”

Fritter spoke up first. “Well, Joe and I got to thinking, and we thought, hey! we could use a free ride now and then.”

“And since you just happen to have a working starship, we figured, heck, might as well ask you.” Joe added.

More like you realized you could manipulate me into doing it. I thought darkly.

“Please tell me there’s nothing more to it than that.” I groused.

Joe put a hoof on my shoulder. “There’s nothin, honest to betsy. It just helps us out too.”

“You’re sure?” I said. “You don’t have any secret suicide missions planned, or anything like that?”

Fritter gave me a weird look.

“Why the hell would I do something like that? I just want to go see some family!”

“An I jus need to pick up a shipment of rainbow whiskey.” Joe added.

“My last job was to pick up a shipment of apples.” I deadpanned.

Joe whinnied. “Yeah, well, uh...heh, can’t win ‘em all, right?” he chuckled.

“So, whiskey and a free trip. Anything else?”

“One thing.” Fritter said. “We’d like to help with your situation.”

I blinked. They what?

“You want to do what?” I asked, incredulous.

“We want to help ya get out of yer trouble.” Joe said.

“You don’t have to do that you know.”

Fritter shook his head. “Nah, Joe and I talked it over. We both agreed that we want to see you get cleared.”

“B’sides,” Joe added, “who’s going to get me more whiskey when my shipper’s in jail?” He chuckled. “It’s what friends do.”

Friends.There was a novel concept, yet, one I thought I could get used to. They wanted to help me, actually help me, rather than just use me. Well, granted, they were going to get something out of it, but their intentions...they weren’t like Nightshade’s. They honestly wanted to help me.

I smiled. It felt...good. though the mention of jail got me thinking more of the problem at hand.

“Is...that even possible?” I asked, feeling doubt creep in. One doesn’t simply walk into the PC and get someone off the hook. First, there were channels you had to go through, and second, it was unheard of. Pegasus law was a convoluted mess.

“Maybe, but we’ll have to get you off the station first, and away from your tail.”

“Do you know who it is?” I asked.

“Yep! I talked to her.” Fritter said

“You what?”

“Don’t act so surprised Horizon! I’m one of like, six pegasi on the entire colony. We aren’t exactly popular you know, or hard to find, given our...uh, ehem, appendages.” Fritter’s wings fidgeted. “Anyway, I’ve met the mare lookin for ya. Though, she’s a bit of a bitch.”

“Wait,” Joe interrupted, “Is she a white pegasus with a silver mane? Oh, and one of them weird thingies on her head?”

“Yeah, that’s her.” Fritter nodded.

She’d brought a WAND. Great. And probably military grade too.

“I know her, she dropped by my bar just after I got back.” Joe said.

“She didn’t follow you down here did she?” I said, alarmed.

Fritter’s eye twitched. “I don’t know...” he muttered, aghast.

“We weren’t. Or at least, we shouldn’t have been. Most authorities know better than to go running through a warzone. Now I dunno about these uh... sandwich corps? Did you call em?”

“PBJ.” I clarified.

“Yeh, that. I dunno about them but I figure most would have better sense than to go running about down here.”

That wasn’t very comforting, but there was no sense dwelling on it.

“Alright, so where do we go from here?”

“Well,” Fritter said, rubbing his chin with a hoof, “first we have to get you off the station. If she hasn’t found you yet, she’ll find you soon. The faster we’re off the station, the better.”

“Alright then, suppose we do that, what do we do after that?”

“Well if you’re up fer a trip to the core we could bounce around the asteroid colonies while we get things sorted out.”

Just then the door opened.

“Or, you could explain to me why you’re planning a trip and I wasn’t invited.” Nightshade tromped into the room.

The three of us shot up from our seats.

“E-Eightball?” Fritter sputtered.

“Nightshade, what are you doing here?” I said.

Fritter glanced at me in surprise.

“What am I doing? What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Nightshade shouted. “You didn’t really think I’d let you run off without paying back my favors did you?”

I’ll admit, the thought did cross my mind.

Nightshade smiled. “Not that you could anyway. The repair docks won’t release the ship unless I say so.”

Well, buck.

“So here’s what you’re going to do. You’re all going to sit down, and you’re going to explain to me just why you’re planning on leaving on such short notice. You’re also going to tell me why I was just interrogated by a PC operative.”

“Nightshade, I can explain.” I started backing away as Nightshade advanced on me.

“Oh I’ve had enough explained to me already, Horizon. Murder? Really?”

Fritter stepped between us.

“He didn’t do it, Eightball.”

“I didn’t ask you.” Nightshade spat.

“Well then I’m telling you. Shut up, and sit down.” Fritter ordered. He held the pistol in his hoof. Nightshade’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“You sure you want to do that, broker?” Nightshade growled.

Instantly Joe was between them.

“Woah now! Calm down! No need to get yer manes frazzled!”

Fritter slowly lowered the weapon.

“That’s better.” Nightshade said. Fritter grunted a response.

“Look,” I interrupted, “yes, I’m wanted for murder, but I didn’t do it. Before you found me I had just gotten out of the PC by the skin of my teeth.”

“Alright. Let’s say I believe you,” Nightshade levelled. “If you didn’t do it, who did?”

“I-” I started thinking, but honestly, I never had an answer in the first place. “I don’t know.”

“Tch.”

“Well, now that’s out in the open what do you say we work on solving the problems instead of creating more eh?” Joe offered. Nightshade glared at him, before sitting down.

“Fine.”

The four of us walked in a loose group, as Nightshade led us to the repair docks to get the Bandit. Fritter kept close to me, sneaking glances between myself and Nightshade, while Joe brought up rear.

“So, Nightshade, huh?” Fritter asked me under his breath.

“Yeah, and he’s a real tool,” I replied.

“So I’ve gathered. Interesting.”

“What is?”

“Just that I’m going to have to make some trims to my network, that’s all.”

“You’re going to look into him?”

“Maybe,” he whispered back, “but for right now I think I need to find some new informants.”

“Why is that?”

“I’ll tell you later.” He assured me.

We kept walking until we reached the entry into the main hangar. As we crossed the blast doors into the hangar proper, weightlessness returned. I drew a breath at the abrupt change in confinement. Free space, everywhere. Even in the ozone riddled air the sensation of looking up, and up, and up felt liberating. Living in confined spaces for weeks on end doesn’t do a pegasus any good. It’s against our psychology. We need space, and I needed this.

I tried to fly, only to be stopped by fritter, who pulled me back down with his teeth and shook his head at me.

Crossing the dock proper, we stepped out onto a network to platforms overlooking the repair yards. Ships were everywhere, some being worked on by the reppers, while others sat unattended on the side. Despite being the repair deck, the dock was still packed. Ponies and and non-ponies of all different types clogged the platform some having conversations with the repair crews while others went about their business. It must have been a combination dock, judging by the number of ponies. Some of the ships were in very good condition, confirming my assumptions.

Another tree caught my attention, though this one looked sickly. I shook my head at the ridiculousness of it.

Nightshade led us to a squat building near the far end of the platform along an intersection between the normal docking and the repair section. A sign marked it as the repair office. Nightshade stepped inside to speak with the manager while Joe excused himself to use the restroom.

I stood outside with Fritter, nervously tapping my hooves on the deck while both of us scanned faces in the crowd, trying to find my tail. There were a few white ponies among the crowd, but none with a silver mane that I could see. there was one other pegasus in a flight suit, but he was the wrong color, and more importantly, the wrong gender.

“He sure is taking a while.” Fritter remarked as he looked in through the office window. Nightshade stood at the desk, talking with the manager and filling out some forms. I guessed favors didn’t include paperwork.

“It’s only been ten minutes.” I remarked, still scanning the crowd for any sign of trouble. More ponies were drifting about the docks. Standing here was simply making me more nervous. I spotted another pegasus entering the docks from the catwalk back into the station. Female, but wrong color.

“Isn’t there anywhere else we can stand?” I asked Fritter. “Being out in the open like this is really making me nervous.” Two white ponies, one with a sky blue mane, the other grey stood at the far end of the platform. The grey one was a unicorn. “Can’t we, like, wait inside?”

“You can disappear inside a crowd, you can’t disappear inside a building with only one exit.” Fritter said.

“And since when were you an expert on disappearing?” I said.

Fritter simply smiled.

“I’m back. Where’s Eightball?” Joe said.

“He’s still inside.”

“No he ain’t.” Joe replied, as he looked through the window. I leaned over to peer inside the repair office.

Empty. No manager, no Nightshade.

“You think they went around back?” Fritter asked me.

“I don’t kn-”I scanning the crowd again. My eyes locked on a particular pony. Aviator glasses, silvery mane, white coat, flight suit, wings, and she was watching me.

Fuck.

“What’s wrong?” Fritter asked, looking over in the same direction.

“Mare with the aviators, is that her?” I asked. Joe turned his head to look.

I glanced back at the mare. She waved and mouthed a greeting with a big smile.

“Yep! Time to go!” Joe pushed me around the corner of the building as Fritter took to the air to run intervention. The pegasus mare shot after us and then stopped mid-flight, caught in Joe’s TK. I kicked off from the deck and flapped my wings, looking back in time to see a flash of light followed by a crack and a pained grunt.

“Go! Go!” Fritter yelled, wheeling back to intercept her. I beat hard, heart pounding in my ears as I shot across the platform toward the jumbled mess of ships in the repair yards.

Frantically I looked for my ship amongst the others, feeling a sense of panic set in when I couldn’t find it. There had to be at least two hundred ships docked, all in various states of repair, with reppers fussing over them with arc welders and... was that a sandwich?

Crack.

Instinct told me to dive. A bolt of electricity snaked past me. I glanced behind me in time to see my pursuer come streaking after me. I beat for my life, several angry shouts following me as I bowled through a group of workers busily fixing a damaged barge. My head whipped left and right as I looked from ship to ship, trying to find the Bandit or some form of cover.

“Hey there stud! Where you goin?” The pegasus called from a short distance behind me. Her WAND was glowing, a small translucent reticule floated in front of her eyes as she aimed down the barrel of a very nasty looking rifle. I changed direction, beating for the edge of a small shuttle. Another bolt followed, this one striking the ship a mere foot behind me. The pegasus swore. I looped around the edge of the ship and shot for a cruiser docked just below it.

“Dude! What?” A surprised repper yelled as I buzzed past him. A flash and crack and he yelped, twitching spastically as his body seized.

Oh, Joy. A stun gun.

I beat down below the cruiser and rolled, kicking a nearby toolbox into the air between me and my pursuer. Tools spilled into the air as the box rocketed away. I veered off toward another ship. The officer tucked and rolled, grunting as she slammed into the box at high speed. Cheering followed the hit. Some of the reppers had stopped their work to watch the sudden show. Another bolt split the air between us, catching on one of the floating tools and bouncing to several more. I used the moment to catch my bearings.

We were halfway through the repair yards and there was still no sign of the Bandit. Moreover we were getting closer to the larger ships. The Bandit had to be nearby, but first I needed to lose the officer. I shot toward another cluster of ships under repair, hearing the hoots of the reppers as I passed and the officer pursued.

I had just rounded a corner when a blur caught my eye. My head snapped backward in time to see Nightshade collide with the officer, knocking the pair of them of course. Both of them slammed into a platform several feet below, kicking and biting. On the rebound, the officer kicked off and flapped, gaining momentum while her forelegs locked around the barrel of Nightshade’s chest and she heaved, rearing back and twisting into a smooth, rolling suplex. Nightshade’s head slammed into the deck with enough force to make the deck shake. Floating limp, Nightshade was down for the count. The officer rolled back into the air with a tight pirouette.

“So, got any more friends? Or are you ready to- Oh! DAMMIT! FINE!”

I was already halfway to the next ship.

I climbed as she sped after me, putting on as much speed as I could until we rounded a corner into the big docks. Massive ships lined in random patterns clogged the air, forming tight corridors of space that techs flitted between. I sped around another corner as I fled, straight into the guts of a ship under construction. A bolt snapped across the bulkhead directly beneath me. I twisted, and shot out the other side, straight into another shot from her rifle.

Crack.

The tail end of the bolt struck my hindleg. Hot pain lanced up my side and my withers. I saw white, then red. Struggling to flap my wings, I banked and turned, awkwardly splitting the gap between a pair of damaged military craft, just to break line of sight with the other pegasus. Disoriented, I botched the angle and bounced, running headlong into the ship’s armor plating instead of completing the turn.

Realizing my mistake a moment too late, I tried a clumsy back beat to kill my momentum. It almost worked. I hit the ship’s hull with a meaty thud. Sore, I tried to settle myself back into the air.

“End of the line, Horizon!” The officer called. I spun to face her. She looked like she had seen better days. Her suit was ripped in a few places where tools had clipped her, and her aviators were gone. Steel blue eyes trained a rifle on me with practiced precision, aided by the subtle glow of her WAND. “There’s nowhere left to run.”

I tried to beat my wings and failed. My legs felt numb and I could feel a warm fuzz creeping over my senses.

“What, nothing left to say?” She said.

My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath.

She snorted.

“Horizon Seldat.” She announced with a satisfied smile. “You are hereby charged with the murder of Junkyard Juryrig, forgery of official documents, and disobeying an officer of the law. By the authority of the Pegasus Bureau of Justice...”

She took aim. I tensed for what was coming.

“You’re under arrest.”

Crack.

86% Remaining...

08 - Chapter Eight: Due Process

Chapter Eight

Due Process

“The Equestrian Society of Biological Engineers announced today a unique ailment among ponies between the ages of fourteen and twenty. Considered unique to the age group, this previously undocumented condition has been discovered to be centered in the genome of the patient. The result? The pony’s cutiemark... cannot appear. Experts are calling this rare condition: Fade Syndrome.”

- ENN Special News Bulletin: Fade Discovered - 2611 EC

It was three in the morning, and I had a headache. The omnipresent hum of the containment field thrummed in my ears as waited glumly in my prison cell for some kind of news of my situation. I was back on L6-C, there to face a justice I didn’t deserve, and as for what would come of that, I had no clue. Bitterly, I chewed on a soggy piece of toast as I sat on my cot and stared into my reflection in the steel mirror across from me.

I had been stripped of everything. My flight suit, my WAND, even what few bits that I had, gone, all to be replaced by a dirty orange jumper cut low enough to expose my blank backside, with my prisoner number sown in on the front pocket. My blond mane was ragged; my brown coat ruffled; my eyes had bags under them. I felt drained, emotionally and physically, and staring into the mirror, I even looked it. Maybe it was a trick of the florescent lights, maybe not, but I could swear that I looked just a little bit more gray than I remembered.

I chewed. I swallowed. I nearly choked. I fought my gag reflexes as the bit of toast went down. It tasted awful, like sour milk mixed with soy sauce, and that was the most edible thing on my tray! The rest of my food was a greyish lump of mash that smelled like engine oil and was greasy enough to give even a hardboiled mechanic pause.

My cell was dimly lit, moreso by the offensively neon clock glowing on the wall than the actual lighting. The room had three amenities: A sink and mirror on one wall, next to a toilet and a hard cot that was secured to the opposite wall by a pair of brackets. Between the cot and the sink, I barely had enough space to turn around.

Well Horizon, you’re in a pickle now. I thought, stooping down to take another bite. I paused just over the tray as more of the food wafted into my nose. Face wrinkling, I sighed and pushed the rest of my meal away. Even if it had tasted better, I don’t think I would have had the appetite for it. I set my tray down on the floor and curled up on the cot, squeezing my eyes shut to try and block out some of the light. Sleep didn’t come.

The cot hurt. The support was metal and the mattress was flimsy, enough so that I could feel the metal plating underneath it. I shifted uncomfortably to try and mitigate the problem, but no matter what I tried I could still feel the metal slab digging into my limbs. To make matters worse, the cot wasn’t even level. Every time I shifted, I felt like I was sliding off, unconsciously making my wings spread to counter the movement.

After thirty minutes of idle frustration, I groaned.

My life is a cruel joke. I concluded wearily. As if in answer to my thought, the lights went to full power. I covered my eyes while they adjusted painfully.

“Prisoner 31605,” a guard said from the entrance to my little slice of hell. Blearily, I looked up at him. The guard regarded me with impassive disdain. “your presence is required in the front office. You will accompany me immediately.” Slowly, I slid onto my hooves from the cot, being careful to face the correct direction while the guard slid a card through the reader. A beep followed and the containment field disengaged. The guard stepped away from the entrance to make room for me.

I walked out of the cell, taking note of the turret tracking me from the ceiling while the two of us made our way out of the cell block and past the security checkpoints. After walking through an office space, I was herded into a blank meeting room. It had three chairs and a small square table.

“Wait here.” The guard said, stepping back out of the room. The door closed behind him and locked. With nothing else to do, I sat down in one of the chairs.

The silence in the room was deafening. After listening to the drone of the cell block for longer than I cared to remember, the contrast was jarring. I could hear nothing. I guessed it was magic, I didn’t quite know for sure, but the silence in the room was oppressive. The air felt heavy, warm and stifling. It was making me sleepy. I fought drowsiness for a few minutes until I made up my mind. To heck with them if I couldn’t indulge myself for a few minutes. I set my head down on the table and drifted off to sleep.

I don’t know how long I was there. I do remember the wake-up call however.

“Wake up!”

SMACK.

I bolted upright as my head shot from the table, ringing from the singing impact of somepony’s hooves against its surface. Dizzy, I found myself staring into the disapproving glare of my escort, along with a unicorn in a nice suit with a golden scale for a cutiemark. The scale was not level.

The unicorn sighed. “Thank you, officer, that’s enough.” The unicorn said with a slight edge to his voice. The guard frowned at him, and then left, locking the door behind him. I turned my attention to the newcomer. The unicorn was cobalt blue with a spiky chocolate mane and eyes to match, if a shade or two lighter. As he took a seat across from me, he levitated out a briefcase and set it down on the table, while fixing me with a warm smile.

“Greetings Horizon,” he said, “I’m sorry if the officers have been treating you poorly, I understand you’ve had a difficult day.”

I tried to return his smile, and ended up giving him a weak chuckle instead. “Difficult doesn’t even describe it.”

“I could imagine. You’ve been making quite the headlines for somepony trying to maintain a low profile.”

“I try,” I replied.

“Several colonies out in the west sector thank you, by the way. Your named was released with a few details on a cargo ship that was intercepted by authorities about a week ago. You were identified as responsible for providing a tip that bad apples were coming through. They got all of them. Celestia four is very thankful for your help. That could have turned out very bad for a lot of ponies.”

I really smiled then, at least some good had come of it. My smile didn’t last, however.

“I take it you’re not here to congratulate me.”

“Unfortunately, no,” he said. “My name is Last Chance. I have been assigned as your legal counsel and defense lawyer for the proceedings.”

“No slack for a hero, eh?”

“Not when the hero is a convicted murderer, no” he finished sadly.

“Convicted?” I said, surprised.

“Yes. Convicted. Your flight from the colony was taken as an admission of guilt. While I was against the motion, your trial was held in absentee. With the evidence provided, you were convicted of murder of the first degree before a full jury.”

I forced myself to breathe. Of all the times for the PC to break its bureaucratic nonsense, they picked now?

“H-How...how can they justify that?” I asked incredulously, “I didn’t even have a chance to defend myself!”

“I know,” Last Chance replied sadly, “and you’re not the first either.” The seals on the unicorn’s briefcase clacked as it unlocked. With the unicorns magic, it opened, and he floated out a stack of papers neatly packed inside. He scooted the briefcase to the side, and set the papers down between us, shuffling through a few of them before withdrawing a few sheets from his files. He set them in front of me for me to read. I scanned them briefly. They were newspaper articles. It took me a moment to digest what was being said in them. Afterward, I felt sick.

The articles covered several different landmark cases describing different ponies, all accused of different crimes, who had been absent for their trials, or overtly denied representation. The different articles held different viewpoints, most touting the practice as ensuring that criminals did not escape justice while a few others decried it as a violation of basic equine rights. When I finished reading, Last Chance retrieved his papers.

“What happened during your trial has been standard practice for the last few years. It’s a result of the new security council's decision to crack down on criminal activity in the sector. Heinous crimes which result in loss of life or serious injury are given special emphasis, and must be expedited to ensure that swift justice is achieved for the benefit of the afflicted. With or without the presence of the defendant. Often, the latter.”

I swallowed, thinking over what he just said. “How could that possibly pass a vote?”

He sighed, “No one voted on it. This was a measure enacted by the chief counselor. If anything the change was a political move rather than a logical one. It’s been controversial, but has managed to hold up to public support. After all, no one likes to see criminals get off. Here,” he floated another newspaper clipping in front of me, this one prominently featuring a finely dressed earth pony being escorted by police. “This one is about a bust on a major drug lord here on the station. Without the governor’s act, it wouldn’t have been possible to try him. He’s only one of the rightful arrests. It’s cases like this that have increased the measure’s support. The streets are safer with King Pin gone. You can’t argue against that.”

“But what about the innocent?”

“That’s the harder truth. I’ve known for quite awhile that some of the ponies convicted of these crimes might have been innocent. I handled one of the cases personally, a murder trial, like yours. Before that, I was a supporter of the act.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“I lost.” He shook his head sadly. “I didn’t feel bad about it at first. I thought justice had been done, but, after the trial, I had some doubts. I did some follow-up research on the convicted—call it a hunch. With a little study, I found evidence that the convicted was actually innocent. Before I could present my case, however, the punishment had already been carried out.”

“What, he couldn’t appeal?”

“How could he?” Last Chance said, “He was executed.”

A cold knot formed in the pit of my stomach. “E-Executed?” I leaned back in my chair taking deep breaths.

“Yes. Executed. Which is why I am here today.” The unicorn leaned over the table toward me and fixed me with a serious glare. “I need to know right now, before we do anything further,” his horn glowed and his eyes seemed to take on an ethereal quality, “did you kill Junkyard Juryrig?”

A strange sensation swept over me as I stared into his eyes. It was warm, and I felt warm all over, if a little bit confused. I said the first thing that came to my mind, as if it was invited there by some unseen force. It felt right to tell him the truth. I wanted to tell him the truth.

“No.” I said. The warm fuzzy feeling faded while he continued watching me. “I-I...didn’t kill him.”

Chance looked as if he was on the verge of tears.

“I understand,” he coughed, regaining his composure. “Alright then, the next question I am going to ask you is required by law. Do you want to appeal your conviction?”

“Yes.” I said immediately.

“Are you certain?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Article six point two of the Just Cause Act allows for a single appeal to be made for the innocence of the accused before a judge. Should the appeal be made and defeated, the convicted’s punishment will be carried out immediately. This measure is to prevent extensive costs through the abuse of the legal system.”

“But, I’m innocent.”

“Not according to your trial. Remember, we must prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that you did not kill Junkyard. Because you have already been convicted, we have the burden of proof.”

“I’m guessing that makes things more difficult.”

“Astronomically so.”

My head hit the table with a low thud.

“As it stands you have the fortune of a life sentence before your execution, but if we appeal the charges and lose, your execution will be performed immediately following the proceedings.”

“What do you want me to do? Say no?” I said, maybe a little harder than I should have.

“No. But knowing what I know about your trial, I don’t think we have much of a chance.”

“You keep saying we.”

“I’ve got my own reasons for taking this on. If I can prove your innocence, I can make inroads for getting the Just Cause Act overturned, and maybe save a few more innocent lives down the road.” He smiled.

“You seem very concerned about justice for a lawyer.”

Last Chance chuckled. “Only the guilty should be punished,” he said. The briefcase clicked shut as he put his papers away. I sat in silence while I mulled things over. I could appeal and maybe die now, or spend the rest of my life in jail and die later. I had already lost everything, what did I have left to lose? Aside from my life, anyway.

“Let’s do it,” I said. Last Chance smiled.

“Good to hear. Though, let’s not jump the gun. I’m legally required to give you a day to think it over. I will be coming back tomorrow morning. If you still feel the same way, let me know and we’ll pick it up from there. In the meantime, try to think of anything that could help us prove your innocence. This last week has given me plenty of time to gather evidence, but everything we’ve got now might not be enough to tip the case in our favor.”

I nodded. “I’ll try to think of something.”

“Good. With that, we’re done here. I’ll continue my research into the situation. Tomorrow, if you still want to appeal, I’ll begin the appeal process and we can start working on our case.” With that, the unicorn gathered up his briefcase and stood up, rapping his hoof against the glass door. The guard outside unlocked it and he stepped out.

“We’re done for now,” Last Chance said to the guard. “And please take more care in how you treat the prisoner, I don’t want to have to file a claim for abuse.” The guard blanched slightly and coughed.

“Of course,” the guard. He watched the lawyer go with contempt. He gave me a cross look, “Get over here.”

I spent a few more hours in my cell, though thankfully once I had acclimated to the sound of the containment field, my headache finally subsided. The guards swung by and all the prisoners were escorted off for breakfast, except me, probably because I had already received food earlier that morning. Nevermind that I had barely touched it. The cell block emptied out and I was left alone in my cell for an hour of intense boredom with nothing better to do but think of how thoroughly screwed I was if things didn’t work out.

It wasn’t until eight in the morning when all the prisoners came back from chow, and an hour past that until a guard stopped at my cell door. A different guard, I noted. This one, at least, was a little more polite. And female.

“Prisoner, you have a visitor. Please come with me.” She said.

No name, but she used please, that’s a good start.

I followed her back to the waiting room, idly wondering who could have known I’d gotten here so quickly. I sat down under guard as a very familiar white and silver pegasus walked into the room, wearing a self-satisfied grin that I wouldn’t hesitate to label as evil.

My captor wasn’t what drew my attention however, it was the blank flank pegasus standing behind her. My eyes shot wide as realization hit.

I was a bad, bad pony.

An offensively magenta and red pony stomped into the room, frothing with rage and charging like a pissed rhino.

“Buy me a drink?” she roared.

Oh, shit no.

Her pale green eyes looked sharp enough to kill.

“Buy me a drink?”

I shrank in my seat as I glanced desperately at my escort. The guard who led me into the room was conspicuously absent and the silver-maned officer was smiling happily as she watched the other pegasus charge me.

No, no, no, n-

“Are you fucking serious?”

I recoiled as a newspaper was shoved in my face, the headline in bold letters across the front.

DARING ESCAPE WITH CORNY ONE-LINER!

Murderer Evades Justice With Dangerous Maneuver

An enlarged picture of the Scrap Bandit passing between two police cruisers dominated the front page, the photo captured just as the Sparkle drive had activated. I looked from the newspaper to manic face of the pony holding it.

“Hi... Prism.” I whimpered. Ruby Prism’s eye twitched.

“HelLO,” she growled in a tone I can only describe as demonic, “HorIZOn.”

I swallowed.

“It’S sO VEry NiCE to SEe YoU aGaIN.” The sheer terror I felt looking into Prism’s manic smile was probably the same thing Junkyard felt before he died.

Prism beat her wings and spun. I had just enough time to jump out of my chair before her legs slammed into my chest. My wings snapped open as I hit the wall, painfully smacking my head against its surface with a resounding thud. I hit the ground on the rebound, unsteadily trying to right myself.

“You fucking jerk! How dare you!” Prism screamed. I ducked as her next buck smashed into the wall section just above my head. The room shook. Scrambling quickly I tried to get away, only to have her bite down on my tail and pull hard. I tripped on my face, and felt myself being dragged backwards.

“Help me!” I screamed to the officer watching by the door. It was No use. She was too busy laughing on the floor.

“I should fucking end you! You selfish bastard!”

I rolled onto my back and stared straight into the face of death. Prism’s face hovered inches from my own as she pinned my legs to the ground, taking great heaving breaths through her flaring nostrils. Her breath smelled minty for some reason.

“I can explain?” I whimpered hopefully.

“Explain what?” she barked. Pain shot through my legs as she punched her legs down. I yelped in response. “What is there to explain Horizon? Other than the fact that you fucking used me! How could you kill Junkyard! He was helping you for fuck’s sake!”

“I didn’t kill him!” I managed through gritted teeth. The pain was making it difficult for me to see, but I could feel Prism’s breath against my face.

“Then why the fuck did you run!” The pressure intensified, causing me to cry out in pain. The outburst caused her to lighten up a little bit, but only a touch.

“Th-they were going to arrest me!”

“No shit! Dumbass!”

The world spun as Prism clocked me with a foreleg. I grunted painfully as my head snapped to the side.

“I lost my fucking job because of you! Hell! They almost made me an accomplice!”

Oh shit. “They what?”

“I know you damn well heard me you stupid jerk! I’m a fucking waittress now!”

Oh shit! “Look, Prism, I’m sorry! But-”

“Sorry? SORRY?” Prism vibrated above me. “You wreck my life and the only thing you can say is sorry?”

I whimpered, expecting another blow. It didn’t come.

“Uh, Ruby,” The officer interjected, having recovered from her laughing fit, “as fun as it would be to watch you kill him, I don’t think doing it at headquarters is the best idea.”

Ruby took several deep breaths and exhaled slowly. “You’re right, Jess. I’m sorry.” Prism flitted into the air, setting back down across the waiting room while I got my legs under me, wincing as my body throbbed from the abuse. Pain smoldered in my legs and chest.

“Alright, buster, spill.” Prism ordered. The edge was still in her voice, if a bit tempered by her outlet. Prism always was a more physical mare. Maybe this time I’d be able to get a word in edgewise. “Why did you kill Junkyard?”

“I already told you, I didn’t!”

“We have two witnesses, a history of strife between you and the victim, your DNA splattered all over the crime scene, and motive.” Jess, the silver-maned officer, explained. “Your case was quick and easy. You killed Junkyard.”

“And I’m telling you I didn’t!” I nearly shouted. “I thought I would be going to work that morning not running for my life!”

“Then how do you explain the fact that you had authorized docking credentials! I looked at them myself!” Prism yelled.

“I-” I faltered, “I used Junkyard to authorize it before I left. I knew I’d get stopped otherwise. I knew I didn’t have much time.”

“Hah, so you did plan your escape!” Jess said.

“I didn’t plan anything!” I replied. ”Hell! I was lucky just to get away!”

“And destroy two police cruisers in the process,” Jess shot back.

“What?”

“The officers pursuing you fired when you charged them. Both ships nearly destroyed each other. Officer Eidlhoof is still in the hospital recovering. The other is out on medical leave.”

“They shot each other?” I gawked.

“They shot you.” She countered. “Except, um, you weren’t there anymore.”

Stupidity at its finest. I suppressed a chuckle.

“Wipe that stupid grin off your face!” Jess snapped. Instantly I straightened. “Two officers nearly died because of you! Heck, If I didn’t want to help my friend here I could have just shot you and been done with it!”

I quieted at that.

“Friend?” I asked Prism. Both ponies smiled.

“Good friends.” Prism offered happily, “we go out to DJ’s on fridays after shifts.” Her smile soured. “Now I work there...”

“I was out on assignment when Prism contacted me about you. So I decided to take a little detour to give her some help.

“Wait... YOU SENT HER AFTER ME?”

Prism simply smiled.

“Prism! They’re going to kill me!”

“And maybe they should after what you did!”

“Prism, I didn’t do anything!” I countered.

“You killed Junkyard!”

“Stop saying that! I didn’t do it?”

“Then why didn’t you come to me?” Prism said plaintively, “I could have helped you dammit!”

“I didn’t have time!”

“We could have worked things out! Together!”

“You don’t know that!”

“Neither do you! Why did you run Horizon?”

“I had to Prism! I didn’t want to get arrested!”

“Ugh! You, you, you, it’s always about you! What about me Horizon?”

“What about you?” I shot back. Prism shook with rage.

“You used me!” Prism screamed. “You hurt me dammit! Is that worth nothing to you?”

“Not when my life is on the line!” I shouted back.

A pregnant quiet filled the room. Prism recoiled as if struck. The pain on her face replaced with disgust.

“You... pig,” She muttered breathlessly. “You unbelievable bastard!” Prism lunged forward, instantly the officer stopped her, flying between us to intercept her.

“That’s enough Ruby. We’re done here.” Jess ordered.

“Not till I beat some sense into that stupid-”

“Enough!” Jess shouted. Prism scowled, but closed her mouth.

Settling down, Prism looked at me and spat. I winced. Saliva hit my face.

“Fuck you, Horizon,” She huffed. “Fuck you for everything. Come on Jess, let’s go.”

“Good filly.” Jess muttered under her breath. She unlocked the door and let Prism out, before turning to the guard posted outside.

“Take him back,” Jess ordered.

“Yes ma’am,” the guard responded before stepping inside.

The guard took one look at me and stopped, examining my face before glancing back at Jess as she disappeared around the corner. Pausing for a moment, the guard sighed and shook her head.

“Come on prisoner, let’s go.”

“What the hell happened to you?” Chance shouted, outraged. The next morning had come early, but at least not as early, or, I guess, as late, as the first.

“I fell down some stairs.” I said too quickly. I had developed a black eye, on top of several bruises, some of which included my ribs. They had swelled enough to be a wonderfully purplish color that peeked through my coat in odd places.

The unicorn blinked. “You’re a pegasus.”

“Very narrow stairs.” I clarified. The unicorn groaned.

“Horizon, who did this to you?”

“No one, It doesn’t matter.”

Chance scoffed, “Doesn’t matter? If the guards have been roughing up my client it certainly does matter! Heck the justice department could have a field day with-”

“It’s not the guards.” I quickly cut in.

“Who then?” Chance asked, raising an eyebrow. He looked like a tiger ready to pounce. Or a lawyer about to make a lawsuit... wait.

“I know what you’re thinking. Stop.”

Chance frowned. “I’m not about to let anypony just walk up and abuse my client.”

“She was a friend.” I asserted. Was.

“That doesn’t make it right. We could-”

“No. No charges. I already ruined her life once.”

Last Chance gave me a measured look. “I see. Very well.” He cleared his throat. “I guess we’ll just get onto business then. Are you still certain you want to appeal your case?”

I nodded, “Yes.”

“Excellent.” Chance smiled, though worriedly fixated on the large lump of a black eye. “The medical staff didn’t happen to give you something for that did they?”

“Just some pain killers,” I responded.

Chance frowned. “Not ideal, but I suppose that will have to do.” He sighed. “Very well Horizon, I just need you to sign a few things and then we can get started.”

The briefcase was back on the table, and with a click it opened again. A small pile of papers floated its way toward me, along with a fancy pen. I could have sworn I heard Chance mutter something about pegasi and paperwork when the pile plopped in front of me.

“You’ll need to reach each of these documents carefully and then sign. Legal requirement.”

“That’s a lot of paper...” I said, staring at the pile of pristine legalese.

“That’s just part one.” Chance deadpanned.

“Oh dear.” I swallowed, picked up the pen and started reading. The next five hours were the most boring in my entire life.

The order of the afternoon was shock.

“Hey Horizon! Glad to see you’re still kickin!” Fritter announced as he and Joe entered the meeting room. I stared blankly at them, mouth slightly agape as I tried to register what they were doing here. They were a welcome sight, of course, just unexpected.

“How did you guys find me so quickly?” I asked.

Fritter took a seat at the table while Joe looked around the room.

“It wasn’t hard really, all we had to do was recall where you said you were from, and figured, heck! Might as well start there. Now, booking transport on short notice, that was a trick.”

“I hope it didn’t cost you too much,” I replied.

“Nah, Nightshade paid for it.”

“Eightball.” Joe corrected, still inspecting the room, but with an ear swiveled in our direction.

“Nightshade,” Fritter insisted.

“Nightshade’s here?” I asked

“Of course!” Fritter said. “As soon as he woke up from that nasty bump of his he immediately started asking about what happened. Silly buck just won’t give it a rest. I doubt he’ll live it down either.” Fritter laughed. “You should have seen the look on his face, Horizon! After that cop took him out he’s been nothing but flustered. Joe and I have been teasing him about it.”

I chuckled, at least someone was having fun at his expense.

“Still though, I think he was more frustrated by the fact that you got away so quickly,” Fritter continued. “He kept grumbling about ‘favors’ and ‘‘his ride running off’ or something like that.”

My good humor was officially gone. I was right! He would track me down if I tried to get away from him. Bitterly, I wondered what kind of favors he would pull if he tried to get me out. For a second I pictured him charging the cell block guns blazing to bust me out. I grinned, remembering the ceiling turret. He’s welcome to try, I thought.

Donut Joe, seemingly satisfied with the state of the room, finally decided to sit down.

“So,” Joe said, “Down ta business, what can we do to help ya out?” Joe gave me a warm smile.

After filling out more paperwork than I cared to remember. Last Chance and I went over the details of our case and began to talk strategy for the upcoming appeal. We didn’t have much time left, however as the paperwork shot a gaping hole in our time together. What we did go over was informative however. I learned of what needed to get done to get me off, not necessarily in specific detail, but the main gist of it. I was accused of Murder, Chance insisted that several of the other charges would be understandable if I was proven innocent of the crime, and also told me that many of the others simply boiled down to fines I would have to pay in the long run. That meant that all of our efforts would be focused on taking out the one charge worthy of the death penalty. This, of course, would be no small obstacle.

As Chance explained to me, because of the nature of our case, we needed to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that I didn’t kill Junkyard. To do that we needed to do several things: first we needed to cast doubt on the witnesses’ testimony. I knew for a fact that I didn’t kill Junkyard, but as it stood no one else would believe me. What puzzled me about this is that there were two witnesses. One I could think of immediately, the mare who saw me standing near Junkyard’s body, but the other I couldn’t place. She was the only person I encountered. There was no one else. We would have to solve that mystery later.

The next task would be to cast doubt on the evidence against me, specifically on motive. Sure I had a lot of reasons for wanting to kill Junkyard, but I also had a lot of reasons not to, the justice system being one of them. Junkyard was not worth dying over, especially when he was the only reason I could fly in the first place. As I said before, no one is willing to hire a blank flank if they can avoid it, and with plenty of new pilots fresh off the bar, they wouldn’t have to. We’d have to show that the motive presented would not be enough to commit murder, as well as establish no connection between myself and the murder weapon, which was unaccounted for.

The final task was the hardest. I needed to prove I didn’t have the opportunity to kill him. Hard evidence, which, after speaking to Chance, I really didn’t have. All he had gathered was enough to cast doubt, but not to prove my innocence. I know I wasn’t there when Junkyard was killed, but nothing he had proved I wasn’t there. With only a few days until the hearing, we needed to find something quickly.

I thought Joe’s question over for a minute, while tap-tapping the the table with a hoof in thought. Nothing stuck out to me immediately, but having more eyes on the situation might always be a plus. What I needed, was probably communication first and foremost.

“You’re good at tracking people down right Fritter?” I asked. I stopped tapping the table.

Fritter nodded, “Well I’m not the best at it, not as good as Nightshade anyway, but I like to think I can handle myself.”

I smiled. “Good enough. I need you to find a buck by the name of Last Chance. He’s my lawyer, and he’s collected a lot of information on the case already. If you can find and talk to him, tell him you know me and you want to help out. He should be by to ask me in person tomorrow so I don’t think there should be any problems.”

“Alrighty!” Fritter said cheerfully, “What’s he look like?”

“Chance is a unicorn, cobalt and brown. When I’ve seen him he was always wearing a nice suit.”

“That should be enough to find him I think.” Fritter said.

“If he’s a lawyer he’s probably got an office somewhere on the station, we might be able ta track him down there.” Joe offered.

“Good point, we’ll start there.” Fritter replied.

“Now, uh, If I may make a suggestion,” Joe interrupted

“I’m all ears.” I said

“I think it would be prudent if another of us managed to get a few more eyes on the crime scene. While Fritter’s off trying to find whoosewhachits, I think I’d like to take a look at it and see what I can find.”

“Your call.” I said. “I’m just glad you guys are here to help. Any idea what Nightshade might be doing?”

“Zero,” Fritter said, rolling his eyes. “I just hope he doesn’t cause us any trouble.”

“You don’t trust him either eh?”

“Not after I learned his name was Nightshade, no. Maybe even that isn’t his real name. Ponies who go by different aliases keep secrets, and keeping secrets is a dangerous business.”

“But you sell secrets,” I said.

“I sell information,” Fritter said. “I’m in the business of learning information so that I can reveal the truth to ponies who need it. I don’t keep secrets, not dangerous ones anyway. Nightshade... I get the feeling he’s got a few more than his fair share.”

“Were you able to learn anything so far?”

Fritter shook his head, “Nothing yet, and I won’t have time to until this business is all over. After all, we need to get you off the hook first.” Fritter smiled. Joe had been pretending not to listen.

“Two minutes.” A guard said over the intercom.

“Looks like that’s our cue.” Joe said, looking for the speaker.

“No kidding.” I added.

“We’ll find this Last Chance fellow.” Fritter said with a grin.

“Thanks.” I replied. “I really appreciate you guys helping me out.”

“It’s no problem,” Joe said, getting up, “‘sides, that whiskey ain’t going to pick itself up.”

I laughed.

“Hang in there Horizon,” Fritter said.

“I will,” I replied.

Fritter and Joe turned to leave, the clop of their hooves audible on the metal flooring. As the door opened I called after them. “Oh, hey Fritter?”

“Yeah?”

“If you happen to find a magenta and red blank flank like me... tell her I said I’m really sorry. Her name is Ruby Prism. She works at a nightclub in the Hub called DJ’s”

Fritter stared thoughtfully for a moment, before nodding.

“Okay.” He said.

“Well you’re about the last pony I expected to see.” I said.

The next day had been very quiet, all things considered. Last Chance had stopped by to thank me for sending some extra help his way as well to get me caught up on his progress. He told me that the appeal paperwork had all gone through, and we were scheduled for the hearing the day after tomorrow. That was it. No more information. When I was fetched from my cell to meet another visitor I thought it would be Chance again with more information about our game plan, but instead it was somepony else entirely.

“Don’t get too excited. I still hate you for what you did, but the fact that you’re willing to go to friends to help you apologize tells me that there’s probably a little more to you than I first thought. Though I still don’t understand what Prism sees in you.”

The white and silver officer’s icy blue eyes watched me with measured resolve. She wore a dark blue uniform with two brass bars pinned to each collar. Her cutiemark was a police badge over crossed batons.

“Your name was Jess, right?” I asked.

“Silvermane.” Go figure. “Field Officer Jess Silvermane, Justice Department. My friends call me Jess. You will call me Officer Silvermane.”

“Very well officer. why are you here?” I asked carefully.

“Oh it’s quite simple, I want to know why I should believe you,” She replied.

“Pardon?” I said, confused.

“I spoke with Last Chance today. He swears to your innocence and I want to know why. He seemed especially vehement about you.”

“You know him?” I asked.

“We’re cousins,” she replied, “that, and I’ve never known him to take a case he didn’t believe in. So tell me. What did he do to you that he believes you so much?”

Something about that statement seemed off, “I’m not sure what you mean, and I don’t think I want to answer any questions without my lawyer here. Especially if this is about him.”

“Did he use magic on you?” She said plainly, ignoring my comment.

“What? N-... wait... no?” I said uncertain. It was enough for her.

Officer Silvermane whinnied, shaking her head. “Ugh, that idiot. No wonder he’s so confident.”

“Did I miss something?”

“He used a truth spell on you didn’t he?”

That got me thinking. The sensation I felt when he asked me that one question, suddenly felt a lot more insidious.

“Um... maybe?” I spoke before I thought about. I shut my mouth with a clack, after I said it, cursing my stupidity.

“Oh, I am so going to kick his flank.” Officer Silvermane muttered. “Okay Horizon, we’re done here. I need to track down your lawyer. Have a nice night.”

She left before I could respond. One word echoed through my head:

Shit.
---

“You’re in trouble, mister,” Last Chance announced the following morning. It was the last day we had together before the trial. today we were going to go over everything, figure out our plan of attack for the hearing and how we were going to tackle each part of the problem. It was not starting well.

“I’m... um, sorry?” I offered nervously. Unlike the previous days, Chance was not smiling.

“I had the fortune of speaking with the good Officer Silvermane today. I thought I told you not to talk to anypony when I’m not present with you. These walls have ears you know.” He glanced about the room to make a point. Suddenly, I understood why Joe didn’t say much during the his and Fritter’s visit.

“Look Chance it was a slip of the tongue okay?”

“Oh I know! It’s not like you just seriously jeopardized our case or anything!”

I shrank in my seat, my wings shuffling uncomfortably. Last Chance.

“Thanks to that the opposition will have a card to play against us if they feel they need to. I can only hope they won’t, but that also means that the evidence we’re going to need to get you off needs to be a lot stronger.”

“About that...” I started, “How is the evidence gathering coming?” Chance’s expression was not encouraging.

“It’s... not looking good to be honest,” he replied. Last Chance took a deep breath. “I hoped that with the extra help I’d be able to find some more solid info proving your innocence, but so far everything we found still doesn’t absolve you of our three major problems. Which is why I’m here. We can’t win this with what I’ve got right now.”

“What do you have?” I asked, a sudden despair setting into my chest.

“Our first issue concerns our witnesses. One of them is missing, the dockworker who magically disappeared a few days after your trial. No one knows where she went aside from the fact that she booked passage out of the sector. The odd part is I had your friend Donut check in with the transport. According to him, his client never showed up.”

“Well that’s fishy.” I said.

“Indeed. But the worker disappeared anyway. Nopony has seen hide nor hooves of her since then.”

“So... one less witness? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“No, it’s not,” Chance replied. “We won’t be able to cross-examine her outside of using evidence to prove her wrong.”

“What about the other one?”

“The other witness will be present at the trial. She said that she saw you at the crime scene, is this true?”

I thought for a moment, “Well, yes, but she walked in like five minutes after I came in that morning. I was just as surprised as she was.”

Last Chance smiled. “That I can work with. Next issue.” The briefcase opened and out floated several sheets of paper covered with notes, alongside some proceedings from my trial. “These documents concern the murder weapon and the opposition’s theories on how you acquired it. Most of it is easily debunked since the weapon was never found. Have you ever used something like this before?”

“No,” I replied.

“I didn’t think so. this part was shaky anyway. It’s the DNA problem that we have to resolve. The report says that they found your DNA all over the interior of the office. Since you worked there I can understand why that would be and that’s easily explainable.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“What I’m trying to figure out is how your DNA ended up on the corpse. I want you to tell me everything that happened, Horizon. It might help us form an argument.”

“I... used Junkyard’s hoof to authorize the docking credentials.”

“You touched the body?” Chance said aghast.

“Um... yes?” I laughed uncertainly. Chance facehoofed.

“Oh dear... hokay, composure,” Chance muttered to himself. I could have sworn something he said counted as a curse.“I’m sure I’ll think of something. Okay.”

“What’s left?”

“Well I think I know how to spin the situation for the judge. There’s just the last problem now.”

I waited for him to continue.

“And this is where I give you the bad news.”

Uh oh.

“I think we’ll have enough to explain motive, but we don’t have any hard evidence to prove you weren’t there. Without that, we’re sunk.”

“We can’t do anything?” I asked, incredulous.

“Maybe,” Chance said, “I need you to tell me everything that happened when Junkyard was murdered. The night before and the morning of. If we do that, we may be able to find something. where were you when Junkyard was killed?”

I thought for a good long while, trying to remember the day two weeks ago that my life took a turn for the worse. It came to me slowly, as I pieced bits and pieces together. Instead of where I was though, I focused on the when. When was Junkyard killed?

It was night. I had been returning from a day at work, and that night I had left Junkyard’s office with Junkyard still alive. Before getting there I had ordered my cargo to be shipped to the junkyard on his dime, a little payback for a late day. We argued, he stiffed me on my pay. I left. I get back to the office the next morning, and Junkyard’s dead. Who saw-

“There was a dockworker the night before,” I said, working out the scenario in my head. Last Chance was listening intently. “I had gotten off my shift. I ordered a cargo lift, and after arguing with Junkyard about my pay I passed a dockworker while leaving. She didn’t have a weapon though, not that I could see, just a tablet.”

“Go on.”

“Well... there’s not much more to it than that,” I said. “I went home. I-”

I stopped, suddenly realizing something.

“I went flying.” I said.

Last Chance seemed to think this over for a moment. “How long were you flying for? And where?” he asked carefully.

“I’m... not sure honestly. My WAND told me that I was at risk of going over my allotted flight time. I was using a public plaza in the off hours. It was pretty emp-” My eyes widened as I realized something.

“The sentry...”

“Pardon?” Chance said.

“There was a sentry watching my flight!”

“Video.” Chance said, catching on.

“When was-”

“Junkyard killed? That night. He was long dead by the morning according to the report. And If my hunch is correct, that was probably after you left the office too.”

Last Chance gave me the widest grin I could imagine.

“Horizon,” he said, his smile deepening, “you have an alibi.”

The next morning I felt nothing but relief. We had planned out what we were going to say and everything was falling into place. It was the day of the hearing, and as I shuffled into the meeting room for the last time before the trial I was struck with a sense of satisfaction. If everything went well, I would be cleared... mostly. Chance had assured me that he could probably get me off the other charges or at the very least get some of the fines reduced provided we could make it through this one hearing intact.

For the first time in a few days, I felt good. My color was back, as were my spirits. Today I was going to meet with all three of my friends. While Joe and Fritter would not be able to take part in the trial, Chance told me they would be sitting in the crowd for moral support. I was also told that the chief counselor himself was going to be attending. Apparently overturning a ruling based on something that you promoted merited a political appearance.

Screw him. I thought happily. Things were looking up, until my friends walked in.

Joe and Fritter looked uncomfortable. Last Chance was a complete mess. His mane was disheveled, he looked slightly manic, and his suit was completely out of order.

“Horizon,” he announced. He sounded dead, “Bad news.”

Something inside me died too.

“The department isn’t letting us get the video from the sentry.” The despair in Chance’s voice matched that building in my chest. “We don’t have the authority to access it.”

We had built the entire case around that piece of evidence. The crux of our argument depended on it. It would be the final, definitive proof. And we couldn’t use it.

We had an hour before the hearing. It was time to face the music.

And we were going to lose.

84% Remaining...

09 - Chapter Nine: The Gavel Falls

Chapter Nine

The Gavel Falls

“As the growing epidemic known as Fade ravages populations everywhere, scientists are scrambling for a cure. With one in thirty foals born testing positive for the defect, experts are puzzling over the sudden and unexplained spread of the disease. Meanwhile, the public has taken action. Riots have broken out amidst panic in nearly every colony as more and ponies are discovered with the genetic trait.

- ENN Special News Bulletin: COLONY RIOTS! Fade Sparks Public Outcry - 2616 EC

“Well, this is it.”

A last minute change to our game plan had been made, but as we stood together outside the courtroom with less than five minutes to go and no certainty of victory ahead, I couldn’t help but feel terrified.

“Aw relax, Horizon, everything’s going to be fine.” Fritter said as he pulled me into a side hug. Between his nervous laugh and the fact that he was shaking too, well, I had a bit of trouble believing him.

“We will do everything in our power to secure victory, Horizon. Remember, all we have to do is cast enough doubt on the details of your case to succeed. If we can do that, we can get the ruling overturned, or at the very least, open a new examination,” Chance said.

The key word there was if. Of the hour we had before the trial, we spent half of it traveling, leaving us with only thirty minutes to refocus our attack plan. No one was confident in it, myself least of all.

“Where’s Nightshade?” I asked Fritter.

Fritter frowned. “Who knows? He broke off from us after we got to the station. I haven’t seen him since.”

Donut silently shook his head.

“Who is this, Nightshade, person?” Chance asked, curious.

“Breathing bad news,” I deadpanned. If Nightshade wasn’t around, he was up to something. Something that I’d probably hate him for later if I was a betting buck.

“The less you know ‘bout him the better off you’ll be,” Donut warned. “Eightball, don’t like ponies poking around in his business.” Donut gave Fritter a dirty look. Where’d that come from?

“I... see,” Chance said. He glanced at something in his field of vision. “Any minute now. Oh-”

“Hello, Chance,” A burgundy pegasus in a nice suit walked up to our party, “bought into another sob story I see? I thought you learned your lesson the last time.”

“Hello, Prosecutor,” Chance levelled, his expression turned dour at the sight of her. “Skulking about as usual?”

“Skulking? Chance?” The prosecutor tsked. “I don’t skulk, darling, I sashay.” She smiled with impossibly white teeth. “Regardless, I would have thought by now you’d have learned to address me by name. Hmm? Let me hear you say it.”

“No,” Chance replied.

“Oh come on, I know you’ve got it in you, just say it! Rosetta-”

“No.”

“Primrose.”

“Did you actually need something or are you simply here to annoy me?”

“I’m your opposition,” she said smiling. “Didn’t you get the memo?”

Chance remained stoic, silently judging her.

The prosecutor harrumphed. “You’re no fun. See you inside!”

I caught a glance of her flank as disappeared into the courtroom. She really did sashay! Joe nudged me with a leg and shook his head.

“You two seem like you’ve had some history,” I said, looking at Chance.

Chance glared at me. “She’s the one who beat me in my last case,” he muttered. “At any rate, I don’t want to talk about it. Ready to go in?”

I looked at the wooden door leading to the courtroom. It stood open, tall and imposing, mocking me.

“Honestly, no. But then, who’s ever ready for something like this?” I offered.

Chance gave me a tired laugh. “I suppose you’re right.”

“All rise, for the honorable Judge Rhapsody.”

I don’t know why they bothered, everypony was already standing. If anything, the announcement made us stand up straighter as a peach pegasus with a gavel for a cutiemark strode confidently into the room, her robes of office neatly arranged in black folds around her. Why judges still wore those antique things I couldn’t figure, but the effect was clear. Between her authoritative attire and her hardline demeanor, she was scary.

The Judge reached her podium, squared off against the audience and sat down, her head held high and brandishing a look that promised dire consequences for any show of stupidity.

“Be seated.” She ordered. For a brief moment, the noise of ponies taking their seats was deafening. Faux leather creaked, hooves clopped softly on the carpeted sections of the floor and metal chairs scraped across the rest. The court was not one of those classy types, rich with antiquity, but instead was simple. Two sturdy metal tables sat across from each other squared off against the judge’s podium and the witness’ stand. The court reporter, a pegasus with a WAND, sat in the corner busily recording the proceedings on a specialized typewriter. The audience sat behind the two tables, cordoned off by a simple length of rope. The audience was empty, mostly.

Sitting in the audience I spotted Prism. She saw me too, though she pretended not to. Fritter and Donut Joe sat across the aisle a distance away from her closer to where I was sitting at the defense’s table. They smiled encouragingly at me, though their smiles had a certain tautness to them. There were other ponies present whom I didn’t recognize, some interested passersby, and what looked like a group of law students from the local college, the latter of which were watching the proceedings with intense interest and taking notes.

The Judge cleared her throat. “Stalwart, if you will.”

The court reporter stood up, floating a clipboard in front of him as he adjusted his glasses. “Seldat vs. the State, court of appeals, The Honorable Judge Rhapsody presiding. Also in attendance, The Honorable Chief Counselor Leavenworth and The Honorable Counselor Featherdance.”

Sitting near the front of the audience on the prosecution’s side were two weighty pegasi of grayish complexions and official demeanors. Apparently, fighting a statute which you helped install merited a personal appearance. I hoped it wouldn’t affect the outcome of the case, though at that point I had very little hope of winning anyway. Both pegasi wore identically sour expressions.

The reporter continued, “Seldat, Appealing conviction of murder in the first degree, convicted August 10th, 4131. Representing the prosecution, Prosecutor Rosetta Primrose.” The burgundy pegasus at the other table fluffed her light brown mane with a hoof. She wore a nice charcoal suit and had a bow and arrow for a cutiemark. The gem of a WAND twinkled from inside her mane. “Representing the defense, Mr. Last Chance, and his client.”

Client. No name, no mention, I was just the client. Thanks reporter, you’re a bro.

In what little time we had, Last Chance had taken the opportunity to collect himself. He had tidied up nicely. His suit was all in order, his mane had been tamed, and he wore a grin of confidence that would have been reassuring had I not seen him as a nervous wreck barely thirty minutes prior. He looked every bit as professional and confident as when I’d first met him, but the nervous twitch attacking his smile told me otherwise.

If Chance was a picture of confidence, I was a mess. Sitting in that room full of judging eyes, watching the self-assured smirk of the prosecutor as she glanced at me with hungry eyes and sitting before one of the scariest mares I’d ever seen, I felt small. Smaller than I should have. I was physically taller than both the prosecutor and the judge, but somehow they felt bigger. The more I looked at them, the more they seemed to grow, making me more and more nervous. While Chance stood like a rock beside me, I was trembling.

The sound of the gavel rang throughout the court, echoing off the walls and nearly shooting me straight through the ceiling. Chance managed to catch me by the shoulders and push me back into my seat before I made a scene. Across the aisle, the prosecutor chuckled knowingly.

“Court is now in session.” The reporter announced before taking his seat.

The judge leaned forward with an annoyed sigh. “Alright somepony mind telling me what this is all about? I thought this was case was cleared up a week ago.”

“As I understand it, your honor, our good friend Chance here is determined to get his clients killed.”

Chance grunted. “I can assure you that will not be the case this time, Prosecutor,” he replied.

“And I can assure you, that this case is a lost cause. You should learn when to give up, Chance, maybe choose a different, more respectable profession, like prosecution.” Primrose smiled demurely, taking a sip from her coffee cup using her WAND.

“Enough.” The judge barked. “I’m not going to have you two fighting like foals in my court. Reasons. Now.”

“Your Honor,” Chance said, “my client and I are here to appeal the charges against him.”

The judge raised an eyebrow. “You do realize we have procedures for this kind of thing Mr. Chance?”

“Yes your honor, but this is not simply a matter of a reduction in punishment. I am here to appeal the ruling in its entirety.”

Coffee sprayed from across the aisle as the prosecutor spat, “what?”

“I am here to prove that my client is innocent, your honor.” Chance smiled, before looking at Primrose’s shocked expression. “Oh, I’m sorry, prosecutor, did you not get the memo?”

“Clearly,” She leveled.

“Well I must say, Mr. Chance, this is rather... surprising,” the judge commented. “Given your history I would have thought you wouldn’t want to take on another case like this.”

“I will prove that I can do better, your honor.” Chance said. Primrose scoffed.

“You do realize what burden you are placing on yourself?” the judge asked.

“I am very well aware your honor.”

The judge nodded. “Very well. Prosecution, you may begin with your opening statements.”

Primrose had recovered from her shock. “Your honor,” she began, “There is very little for me to say. As was decided by jury the week prior, Mr. Seldat was convicted of murder in the first degree. Mr. Seldat murdered his employer, the late Junkyard Juryrig, after an argument over his wages. Witnesses have confirmed a history of anger between the two and it is believed that the night of the murder was the last straw. Horizon Seldat shot Junkyard Juryrig and fled the colony after being caught attempting to remove evidence from the scene of the crime. Two officers were severely wounded in their attempts to apprehend him.”

More like kill me, I thought bitterly.

The prosecutor continued, “These charges were reviewed by jury and were affirmed to be true and correct. I’m not even sure why we are having this appeal.”

Chance shot her a dirty look. Primrose noticed.

“Is there something you wanted to say Chance?” she challenged. Chance held his silence. Primrose smirked.

The Judge gave the prosecutor an irritated glare before turning to us.

“Defense, your opening statements please.”

“Your honor, I will prove the innocence of my client and absolve him of the crime of murder as convicted on the proceedings of August 10th, 4131. It is my intent to prove that my client had neither the motive, nor the opportunity to kill Junkyard Juryrig. In the process I will prove that the evidence gathered against him is false, and that the ruling of his conviction was in error. I will resolve my client of all charges and seek proper restitution for damages done to his character.”

“That is a very bold statement, defense,” The judge commented.

“If unrealistically optimistic,” Primrose added with a smirk.

“The prosecution will refrain from further remarks.”

“Yes, your honor,” Primrose sighed.

“I do not intend to be bold in my statements, your honor, I am simply stating what I will accomplish.”

“Noted,” the judge replied, “Very well Mr. Chance, please begin.”

Last Chance took a deep breath.

We had debated extensively what we would attack first. Since it was an appeal, Chance told me that we would have the first go. While we had a lot of work to do, we decided that the best course of action would be to first deconstruct my supposed motive for killing Junkyard and then move onto the evidence. We would tackle everything, one thing at a time. We were missing our key piece of evidence, but the hope was that we could cast enough doubt on the ‘how’ of it that it wouldn’t be necessary.

“The defense would like to call into question my client’s motive for killing Junkyard Juryrig. We assert that my client would not have the correct frame of mind to commit the act of murder, and that my client’s situation would not have benefitted by his death,” Chance said.

“Your client has been found to be in frequent arguments with the deceased, some of which have been reported to be so bad that they could be heard from several blocks away. Neighboring businesses have testified to this fact. It has also been attested by other sources that the accused has made frequent disparaging remarks about Junkyard’s person including, and I quote, ‘I wish that fat bastard would die so I could get on with my life.’”

Last Chance shot me a dirty look. My ears drooped as I chuckled nervously.

The prosecution continued, “You can find all of these testimonies in this document, submitted during the trial.”

Chance’s WAND Beeped with new information. Immediately, he started scanning something in front of him that I couldn’t see.

“So your accusations on his motive were based on hearsay, Primrose?”

“Testimony, Chance. Several of these individuals were present for the trial and gave their testimony under oath.”

“Unlike my client who was unable to defend himself as he was not present for his trial.”

I saw the chief counselor’s frown deepen as the fat pegasus shifted in his seat. I returned my attention to the prosecution whose eyebrow had shot up and a small smile had formed on her lips.

“Last I checked, Chance, we were not here to discuss procedure,” Primrose said.

“The procedure is relevant to the case. I am confident that had Horizon been present for his trial the ruling would have been much different.”

“As things stand, Chance, if he’d been here for his trial he’d be dead.”

“That remains to be seen,” Chance said.

“Your honor, this line of argumentation seems to have been led astray by a personal vendetta. I request that the defense be held to the matter at hand.”

“Objection, your honor, the procedure is relevant to the case!”

“Overruled. This case is on the murder trial of a convicted murderer, not a political debate. Defense, you will cease this line of argumentation unless otherwise called for.”

Chance grunted. “Yes, your honor.”

Primrose smiled, “So, Chance, what do you have to say? Are you going to imply that all these ponies, who testified in court, lied?”

Chance smiled back. “They did not lie, prosecutor, they simply did not know the truth. What is true to one person may be false to another.”

“That’s it? Your entire argument is that your client is misunderstood? You disappoint me, Chance.”

“Horizon’s relationship with the deceased was mutually beneficial. He would not have jeopardized that in favor of short term gain.”

“There you are wrong, Chance,” Primrose stated. “There is no possible way that their relationship could have been mutually beneficial. As it would have been financially stupid for Mr. Juryrig to continue hiring your client.”

“Beg your pardon?” Chance replied.

Primrose’s WAND lit up and projected a display in the center of the court. “These financials were recovered from Mr. Juryrig’s offices during the investigation. We had our ponies run the numbers, and for your information, it would have been more profitable for Mr. Juryrig to have hired a third party, than to continue to pay for repairs on the vessel your client was piloting, not including your client’s paycheck. By all business considerations, Mr. Seldat could have easily been fired years ago.”

That made me swallow. I had always thought he wasn’t paying to repair the Bandit. Or was he? No, he couldn’t have. The Bandit had never been in the shop the entire time I had flown it. Earlier I had been told not to speak unless spoken to, and had been provided a pad and a pen if I needed to communicate. I started scribbling a quick note to Chance. He glanced at it before continuing.

“Then it appears we have a mystery on our hooves, prosecutor, as my client informs me the ship was never in for repairs.”

“Which is contradictory hearsay, Chance. We have evidence that the payments were made to the yards for the aforementioned service. Your client’s testimony clearly contradicts established fact.”

“It is not contradictory.” Chance replied, “Take a look at the dates on that document. Mr. Seldat did not start working for Mr. Juryrig until seven years ago. The last of the repairs listed in this document took place a short time before that. Mr. Junkyard was not paying for repairs on the ship. In fact, Mr. Junkyard had previously hired three other ponies to fly the ship for him, all of whom went missing shortly after their employment.”

Chance’s horn glowed, and a new image floated next to the existing one.

“If you look at the dates of the missing pony reports, you will notice that they coincide roughly around the time that the repairs were made. And the repairs themselves should also be interesting: Cataclysmic failure of the life-support system, severe damage to the sparkle drive, and a hull breach from a meteorite impact. Not to mention multiple safety failures over the years, all of which had been mysteriously overlooked during Mr. Seldat’s tenure as Mr. Juryrig’s pilot.”

“If what you’re saying is correct, Chance, then a full investigation should have been launched regarding the missing ponies. It was not.”

“Not everypony is immune to lies and bribery, prosecutor.” For a brief second I could have sworn Chance had looked at the chief counselor. Said pony was adjusting his seat, his permanent frown hardening slightly.

“But so long as there is no evidence of said bribery, such thinking is not permitted in court.” Primrose replied.

“Mr. Juryrig was making routine withdrawals of a large sum of bits each month as detailed on the financials you provided for the court. This money could have been used to pay for bribes. In combination with the lack of repairs on the ship and his reluctance to pay my client, it would also explain why Mr. Juryrig would continue to use his services instead of hiring a third party. Mr. Juryrig could not afford to use a third-party service and pay the bribe to keep himself safe. Their relationship was mutually beneficial.”

Primrose frowned, “that is a very thin theory, Chance.”

Chance smiled. “It is a feasible theory, prosecutor, and one that cannot be ignored.”

Primrose shifted slightly. “If that is true, defense, then your client could not possibly want to work for Mr. Junkyard as the working conditions would be too dangerous to pilot the ship safely.”

Chance’s smile widened. “And that is where you are wrong my dear prosecutor. My client was dependent on Mr. Juryrig for employment. His... condition prevents him acquiring work in the same field, in addition, his living and financial situation would have prevented him from being unemployed for any considerable length of time. These police reports prove that.” Another set of documents replaced the ones floating in the center of the court, or rather, pictures of them. One of the documents had a coffee mug stain.

“The morning after the murder, Mr. Seldat’s apartment was raided by the station police for evidence. It was found that the building had suffered extensive damage due to disrepair. The entire building was condemned. In addition, Mr. Seldat also had nothing in the way of reserve finances according to the reports taken from his financial records. He was living from paycheck to paycheck.”

The prosecutor smiled chuckled. “Oh Chance, I thought you knew better.”

Chance frowned.

“Given your evidence you are weakening your own argument. If anything, his situation would give him even more motive to kill Mr. Juryrig. For all we know, Mr. Juryrig could have been ready to fire him right then and there.”

“Not if he was paying bribes, prosecutor.”

“If, defense. The evidence does not definitively support that Mr. Juryrig was paying bribes.”

“But the possibility is there, prosecutor.”

“Possibilities are not facts, Mr. Chance. What is a fact is that your client has been observed to be frequently fighting with the victim and was present at the scene of the crime during and after the murder. You have also strengthened your client’s motive for killing the victim. Well done, you should be a prosecutor, you’re making my job much easier.”

“Prosecutor, second warning,” the Judge said.

“Of course, your honor.” Primrose replied quickly

“Mr. Seldat would not endanger his position. The relationship between him and the victim was mutually beneficial.”

“Mr. Chance,” the judge interrupted, “unfortunately for you, the prosecution is correct. So long as the bribery issue remains in question the relationship cannot be viewed as mutually beneficial. Also your clients motive remains true, since you have failed to provide sufficient evidence to call it into question.”

I swallowed.

“In that case, your honor, the defense would like to call Mr. Seldat to provide testimony about his relationship with the victim.”

“Objection, the witness is biased to the case at hand.”

“The defendant has the right to testify!” Chance shot back.

The judge thought for a few seconds. “Sustained. The defendant may testify.”

I swallowed hard. Chance turned to me and whispered in my ear. “Don’t fuck up.”

I honestly didn’t know how to respond.

The judge looked at me. “Defendant, please proceed to the witness stand. Do not fly”

All eyes turned to me, and if I had felt small before, I felt tiny now. Nervously, I walked through the center of the courtroom to the small stand sitting next to the judge’s podium feeling the weight of the room tugging at my wings. It was everything I could do to walk straight. Once I reached the stand, I turned around.

It is one thing to be at the front of a crowd, it’s another to be facing one.

From my seat at the witness stand I could see everyone. My lawyer who, from a distance, appeared to be the perfect blend of confidence, and my friends behind him, who wore reassuring smiles despite my situation. Across from them, Prism, who looked on with an impassive face, and behind her, a room full of ponies. The law students were busy taking notes, while a few more passersby had filtered into the room to observe. In the very back, a muscular white pegasus was eating a bag of... was that popcorn?

“The defense requests the use of a lie detection spell to ensure the veracity of the testimony given.”

The prosecutor blinked. So did the judge.

“I...” the prosector began, her eyes narrowing as she glared at Chance. Her mouth worked for a moment before she responded. “The prosecution agrees.”

The judge turned to me, “Defendant, do you agree to the use of a lie detection spell?”

“Um... yes?” I chuckled nervously. It’s not that I didn’t have anything to hide, but I was feeling uncomfortable about being put on the spot.

“Very well. Bailiff.”

A unicorn guard appeared next to me. His horn glowed blue, and suddenly I had a very warm feeling. It was similar to the one I’d felt with Chance, but different somehow. It seemed to permeate around me, rather than through me.

Chance smiled confidently.

“Defense, you may begin with your questioning.”

“Thank you, your honor.” Chance took a deep breath.

“Mr. Seldat, please inform the court of the nature of your relationship with the victim.”

“Um...”

My relationship with Junkyard was complicated. Yes, we hated each other, but it wasn’t really a mortal enemy kind of hate, it was a friendly hate. It was the hate associated with two ponies who simply didn’t get along with each other, but both parties recognized that they needed the other. That, and we had history. Before I worked for him and found out what a cheapskate he really was, he had helped me. He helped pay for my pilot license, and even helped me study for the test. He had been a pilot himself in a previous life, and between his knowledge and what I learned from my father, I managed to pass, if barely. It wasn’t until after I found that nopony would hire a blank flank that I signed on with Junkyard. Junkyard offered me the position, if reluctantly. So, no, I didn’t always hate him. He gave me my wings, and that was why I worked for him despite everything. Oh, and, no one else would hire me. Trust me, I looked.

Processing all this into words while on the spot was a lot more difficult than I thought it would be.

“We... uh... needed each other,” I said. “Junkyard hired me to help him with his business and I got to fly in return. We both won... sorta. He got the better end of the deal, but he also helped me get my pilot license, so I kinda owed him.”

“Why did the two of you argue so much?” Chance asked.

“He was a cheap bastard,” I replied immediately. Oops.

Chance looked at me with a look that said, really? The prosecutor was busily trying to suppress her laughter. Chance groaned.

“Be more specific please.” Chance amended.

“I’d work long hours for him, and he’d only pay me half, if anything at all. I mean we argued, loudly, but after awhile it just got tiring. We both knew what we were capable of as far as shouting went and I figure he probably wanted to stop getting so many complaints from the neighbors about the noise we kept making.” I chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Chance asked.

“One of them said we bitched like a married couple.” In the back, Fritter snorted, earning a smack from Joe.

“You said he helped you get your piloting license? How?”

I took a deep breath. “Junkyard paid the entry fee for the test. He was a pilot before he started his scrap business and he helped sponsor me for the entry requirements. He also helped me study, sharing his knowledge with me to help build on what I had learned from my dad, and provided me with the study materials I needed to pass. If it wasn’t for him, I would never have become a pilot.”

“That sounds to me like you would be grateful to him. What happened to your relationship?”

“Uh... well... after I got my piloting license I started looking for work. I couldn’t find anything, unfortunately. No one wanted to hire me because I was so green, and well... other reasons. Eventually Junkyard offered me a job to pilot for him. That made my day like you wouldn’t believe. the first few months were great, though things didn’t really get better. I realized after a while that Junkyard was cheating me. He was underpaying me for the work I was doing, and when I confronted him about it he used our relationship against me. He told me I should be grateful for the help, when really he just... used me.”

I stopped a second and thought about that. I remembered how angry I was when I first realized what he was doing. We both had short tempers that day and that was really when our fighting started. That thought led to others. I glanced at Prism, who was suddenly more interested in the wall than the case at hand.

“We didn’t really get along after that. I guess that’s when our fights started. They became so common after a while that I guess neither of us really thought anything about them. They were routine.”

“Why did you stay?”

“Because I could fly,” I said. “He used that against me, but as long as I could fly, I could live with it.”

“No further questions your honor.” Chance said

“Prosecutor?” the Judge asked

Prosecutor Primrose stood up from her seat and walked toward me wearing a predatory grin. suddenly I was more acutely aware of the warmth surrounding me. Before she could start, Chance interrupted her.

“The defense would like to state that the current line of questions relates to the relationship between the client and the victim only.”

Primrose glared Chance who smiled coyly back at her. The judge nodded.

“Noted. Go ahead, prosecutor.”

Primrose cleared her throat.

“Mr. Seldat. Is it true that the victim defrauded you of wages while working in his service?”

It was a simple yes or no question. I couldn’t lie, of course, but for some reason my lack of choices disturbed me. I frowned.

“Yes.” I said

“And is it true that this behavior continued throughout the seven years that you worked for him?”

“Yes.”

“Did that make you angry?”

“Sometimes.”

“Yes or no, Mr. Seldat.”

“Yes.”

“Witnesses have reported that you sometimes resort to violence when you become angry, is this true Mr. Seldat?”

“Y-yes.” In fact I had, several times. I could still remember the overturned furniture. It was part of why my couch was broken.

“Have you ever taken this anger out on another pony?”

I bit my lip. I remembered all the times I had shouted at dock workers, or been particularly snappy after a long argument. I’d yelled at ponies in my frustration: The grocers, other faders, other pilots, friends. They didn’t deserve the treatment I gave them, not at all. But I was hurt, and I needed an outlet. I didn’t care who suffered because of it. I was selfish.

“Yes,” I said, “but-”

“Has anypony ever been hurt in your outbu-

“Objection!” Chance shouted.

“Sustained. Prosecutor you will keep the questions related to the matter at hand.”

“Yes, your honor.” Primrose huffed. “Mr. Seldat, is it true that Mr. Juryrig was your only option for employment?”

“Only so long as I wanted to keep flying, yes.”

“You couldn’t have found another job?”

“Yes, I just said that,” I said, growing a little irritated. “How many blank flank pilots do you know?”

The prosecutor smiled. I started to grind my teeth.

“Did you know that there are laws that prevent hiring choices from being made based solely on your cutie mark?”

“Yes. And when I tried to use them, nothing happened. I was always passed over for ‘more qualified candidates’”

“Would it be any stretch of the imagination to say that the reason nopony else would hire you was because you were inexperienced?”

“After seven years of hard work and over 15,000 hours of flight time? No.”

“So you blame your inability to find work on the fact that you’re a blank flank?”

“What?”

“Just answer the question, defendant.”

“Yes!”

“Did you know much about Mr. Juryrig’s personal affairs during your employ with him?”

“No.”

“So you do not know if he had been paying bribes to a third party?”

I was silent for a second. Junkyard had always complained about not making enough bits, but I had always figured he was just greedy. When you have an IOU for a cutie mark, it’s no surprise that you would live up to the standard your flank set. Maybe Junkyard’s special talent was going broke.

“Not really.” I said.

The prosecutor’s smile broadened. “So how is it that you are so confident you would not lose your job by shouting at your employer? Any sane pony would have fired you on the spot. Were you blackmailing the victim?”

“What? No!”

“Explain then. If nopony was demanding bribes from Mr. Juryrig, why then would he continue to employ you? You constantly fought and you were especially costly to maintain. Even the taxes Mr. Juryrig paid on the ship alone were enough to justify firing you.”

“I...” I had thought it was because he was a cheapskate, but with the numbers right in front of me I couldn’t really argue. Junkyard was operating at a loss. The weight of that took a little time to sink in. It would have made a lot of sense for him to fire me, especially considering how much we hated each other. “I don’t know,” I answered lamely.

“Did you ever stop to consider, Mr. Seldat, that the reason Mr. Juryrig could not pay you was because he was stripped for funds?” I recalled the bitter expression on his face each time he paid me. He never really paid me in full for anything, although I had never actually seen what the inside of his safe looked like. For all I knew he could have been loaded--clearly not.

“No,” I said.

“For somepony who has helped you as greatly as you said, you don’t seem to share that bond. Mr. Seldat. Though judging from your character I don’t find that entirely surprising.”

What.

“Excuse me?” I said.

“You have clearly demonstrated that you are a short tempered and irritable pony with a tendency for aggression as testified by other witnesses. It is not a stretch of the imagination to picture you capable of the act of murder.”

“Objection!” Chance shouted.

“Objection to what? Mr. Chance?”

“You are needlessly bashing my client’s character!”

“Oh really?” Primrose said, a devilish smile on her face.The evidence on display was replaced with a new image. It was a picture of me flashing my rump at a sentry’s camera in a very lewd manner. I heard a snicker as Fritter tried to stop himself from laughing. I could feel my face burning. I hid my head in my forelegs on the table.

“Clearly your client is of the highest moral fiber,” Primrose deadpanned.

The look Chance gave me is best left without words.

“Um... oopsie?” I offered.

“The prosecution rests, your honor,” Primrose said.

Chance motioned for me to come join him. I walked back across the floor to our table and sat down next to him. Dreading whatever he was going to say next. He looked at me, and then looked away. Somehow I think the silence hurt more.

“Your honor,” Chance stated wearily, “As seen from these discussions Mr. Seldat could not have possessed sufficient motive to commit the act of murder.His continued employment was dependent on Mr. Juryrig for his livelihood, as meager as it may have been. My client would not endanger that opportunity on the grounds that it would strip him of his passion. The defense motions to place the motive under question.”

The prosecution stood. “The prosecution states that the continued arguments between Mr. Seldat and the victim were the result of a growing rift between the two ponies. As demonstrated by his irascibility while under question, Mr. Seldat is highly volatile and would be capable of murder under correct strain. The prosecution further states that the defendant would have been thoroughly exhausted after his shift and would not have possessed the mental stamina to control himself. The motive should stand.”

The judge regarded the prosecutor and Chance thoughtfully, her steely gaze bouncing between the two. For a second her eyes flitted to the chief counselor whose dour expression hadn’t changed during the entire proceedings. Several seconds of silence followed while she thought.

“The motive stands,” the judge said, “unless the defense is ready to produce more convincing evidence to the contrary, I have seen nothing that would convince me that Mr. Seldat would not be willing to commit murder.”

A loss on both fronts. My ear twitched. This was not what we needed. Still, Chance plowed ahead.

“If that is the case, then the defense would like to call into question the murder weapon.”

“The murder weapon was not recovered. There is nothing to question.” Primrose stated.

“Where did he get it?” Chance said anyway. Primrose frowned. “My client had neither the time nor the finances to acquire a weapon like the one used to kill junkyard.”

“Blackmarket goods are not terribly hard to come by if one knows where to look, Mr. Chance.”

“But they are expensive, prosecutor. My client would not have had the funds to purchase a weapon like the one used to kill Mr. Juryrig. Nor would he have had the time to acquire it.”

“He had plenty of time to acquire it.” Primrose said, “according to the docking schedule Mr. Seldat was not on the job every day, he could have acquired the weapon during one of his days off and used it the day of the murder. In addition, there are other ways to pay for goods and services, especially in the underworld.”

Luna forbid if I didn’t know that was true.

“Such as?” Chance questioned.

“An exchange of non-monetary goods or services, either at the time of the exchange or a future time.”

Favors. Fucking hell.

“And what exactly would my client have to trade? His schedule was too busy for anything related to his occupation, and without the right clearance his ship could not leave the docks.”

“Information, Chance, Mr. Seldat was in the business of harvesting satellites. They can sometimes contain very valuable information for the right ponies.”

“Assuming he knew the right ponies to begin with.”

“He wouldn’t need to, someone else would just have to have the right offer,” the prosecutor countered.

“Then how would he had the weapon.”

“His suit had storage, it would have been simple to draw it on Mr. Juryrig, especially with that WAND he was so fond of wearing. Motive, and opportunity. I really don’t see what there is left to discuss.”

Chance bit his lip.

“Do you have any further evidence to submit to the court Mr. Chance?”

“In fact I do, you honor, but at the same time I don’t.”

Primrose laughed. “What kind of answer is that?”

“This investigation is missing a key piece of evidence, which we were denied access to prior to these proceedings.” Chance said pointedly.

“And that would be?” Primrose purred. Something was wrong, it was almost like she was counting on this.

“A surveillance video.”

“Oh! You mean this one?” The prosecutor’s WAND glowed and a new image was displayed in the center of the room. A video played. A very, very wrong video.

It was me. Standing in front of the office, striding past the dock worker, as she left the building.

“This was the night of the murder,” Primrose said smoothly.

I flashed a smile to the dockworker as I passed her. She smiled back.

“I would have brought this up earlier, but it really didn’t seem necessary given the overwhelming evidence we already possessed. That and I like to be prepared for foolhardy appeals.”

I entered the Office. Moments passed, and then the windows flashed rapidly.

“As you can see, Chance, there is no doubt who killed Mr. Juryrig.”

Moments later I left the office, smiling. The video stopped on my face.

I sat there transfixed, staring at the impossibility before me. Beside me, Chance choked.

“That’s impossible,” I muttered.

“What…” Chance said, turning his head his face held confusion, and then anger. “What is this?” He wheeled on me a foreleg pointed at the display. “was THIS your video?”

“N-no! I… I di-” I blanched, backing away from him.

“How… dare you,” he growled. “You lied to me?”

Across from us the prosecutor was laughing.

“That’s not me Chance! I swear!”

“As you can see your honor this really is an open and shut case. As it was before this silly little appeal.”

“Yeah, bullshit Horizon. These videos are straight from the archives. No one can modify them. especially not you. I can’t believe I fell for your sob story. I don’t know how you got past a truth spell, Horizon but I suppose it doesn’t even matter now.”

I swallowed.

“Truth spell? Chance?” The prosecutor asked, an eyebrow raised.

“No point in hiding it now,” he sighed. “Yes, a truth spell. I used one on him during our initial interview. I wanted to be sure I could represent him in good faith per Article 87.”

She seemed to nod quietly to herself before saying, “Just goes to show you can’t always rely on magic.”

“I’ve heard enough,” the judge said, “from the evidence provided it is clear the defendant is guilty. Horizon Seldat your appeal is hereby denied.” The gavel raised.

The door to the hallway slammed open.

“Alright! I’ve had enough of this shit!” A voice called from the back of the room. All heads turned. Officer Silvermane stood in her uniform, looking so livid she might have been able to burn a hole through steel. A WAND blazed on her head as she charged down the aisle..

“Lieutenant! We are in session! What is the meaning of this?” The Judge barked.

“I’ve got approval from the chief of the Pegasus Bureau of Justice. I have with me a piece of evidence which was overlooked during the trial. I think you’ll find its contents surprising.”

She charged the center of the room, her WAND lighting up and overwriting the center display. A new video played. It was a video of me flying. I was being targeted by a traffic sentry, and next to the reticule a fine was racking up. It also had a time next to it.

“What?” Chance said. The video paused. Primrose stopped breathing. Chairs shifted.

Played side by side with the other, the timestamps matched almost perfectly.

“It’s over,” he said as he processed what he was seeing. A few moments later, he started laughing. The prosecutor simply stared, mouth agape.

“Well this certainly wasn’t how I expected to win the case,” Chance laughed.

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” Primrose muttered. “O-officer, can you verify this new evidence?”

“Both videos are straight from the archive. They have not been doctored in any way.”

Silence. Blissful, unadulterated silence.

“If I may point out,” Chance said, regaining his confidence, “The pony on the left seems very tired, as he flies in a plaza ten minutes from the crime scene. I’ll admit I would be tired too, if I was in two places at once.”

“You’re not serious,” Primrose sputtered. “You’re going to use THAT?”

“I don’t see any other possibility, and as I recall the only other known method is buried underneath a mile of ice.”

“Alright then answer me this, Chance, Which one is the real one?”

“If I may interject, I did look that up,” Officer Silvermane said. “Horizon’s WAND was located in the plaza at the time of the murder.”

Chance smiled. “And while a changeling’s magic can imitate a pony, it can’t imitate equipment.”

“I’ve heard enough,” the judge interrupted. “It is clear that given this... surprising evidence, Mr. Seldat is not responsible for the murder of Junkyard Juryrig. Given these circumstances, the case will be reopened and the investigation will continue.”

Tension melted from my shoulders. I slumped in my seat, breathing what felt like my first breath of fresh air in years.

“Further charges will be examined pending judicial review. Congratulations Mr. Seldat, you’re free to go.”

The gavel echoed throughout the chamber.

Ponies turned to leave, muttering amongst themselves. I grabbed the sleeve of Chance’s suit. “What just happened?” I asked him as he scooted from his seat. I was still feeling dazed at the sudden change in atmosphere. He beamed at me, laughing like a giddy colt at his birthday party.

“Changeling defense,” he replied. The swoosh of his tail followed him as he left me to gawk.

82% Remaining...

Author's Note

Let me start by saying that I am not satisfied with how this chapter turned out. I am not entirely familiar with how the legal system works if it isn't completely evident by what you just read. I've made about 15 rewrites, and in my opinion all of them were awful. At this point I'm done. I'm moving on with the story and I'm sorry if any of you feel let down by this chapter.

Oh well, every day is a learning experience. Here's hoping the rest go smoother.

10 - Chapter Ten: The Burning Question

Chapter Ten

The Burning Question

“Welcome aboard the Golden Dawn your majesties! We have everything you could possibly need. Just say the word and one of my officers will make it so.”

“Thank you Captain. Please set a course for the first location on our itinerary. Oh! And tea would be lovely, if you don’t mind.”

- Celestia and Luna depart for the outer rim. - 3333 E.C.

“Well now, you’ve certainly caused quite a stir around here. I hope for my sake you’re done, because to be blunt, I’m getting sick of the paperwork.”

The speaker was the chief of police, my last stop before my exit into the wild blue yonder. We were meeting in his office, a sparsely populated place with about as much character as the hard-boiled buck sitting before me. The stark white walls were mostly blank, save for a framed certificate of excellence that had yellowed with age, and a wide window set in the wall behind his desk which gave an excellent view of the next building over. The desk was a mess of papers, decorated with a coffee mug in one corner, and a small picture in the other. A white filly smiled back from the frame, or at least it did a few moments ago. It changed to picture of an equally hard-boiled mare in her 50’s, who looked like she’d seen the wrong end of a bundle of joy.

The chief rolled the cigar around in his mouth, taking a short puff and then blowing a ball of smoke in my general direction. “You do know why you’re here right?” he asked.

“Um, not really,” I replied, shifting nervously.

It had been four hours since the trial, most of which I had spent kicking around the main lobby. I wasn’t exactly a prisoner anymore, but apparently that didn’t mean I could just skip the rest of the court system. Things had to be done, release papers signed, and more nightmares generated for overworked office clerks. My things had been returned to me, including my flight suit, which had been freshly laundered. I changed during the time I had to wait. The familiar cling of my flight suit was wonderful, and for good measure, I had donned my WAND again, if only to help fight the boredom.

The chief shifted in his chair, propping himself up on his elbow as he leaned toward me. “You might be getting released young buck, but don’t think you’re quite in the clear just yet.”

“To be honest, sir. I’m just happy I’ll be able to eat tonight,” I said.

He chuckled. “No kidding, well you’re lucky that’s for sure. Not many other bucks could make a claim like you did and live to tell about it.” He cleared his throat. “Now, before we set you loose on society we need to go over one final thing. Your fines.”

I grit my teeth. I wasn’t sure what I owed, but for the actions I took, it was probably a very large number.

“You put on one hell of a show when you bolted a few weeks ago, and while you demonstrated an impressive amount of foresight for a split second decision, you also violated pretty much every civil law in the book hightailing it out of here. Hell, if I had my way I’d plop you right back in a cell and let you stew, but your lawyer friend reminded me of what a pain in the ass the PR would be.”

The chief took another draw on his cigar before fixing me with a more serious expression. “You are one lucky buck, Mr. Seldat, but that doesn’t mean that I’m just gonna let you go scott free.”

I swallowed.

“You lied to a government employee, forged docking credentials, evaded police, and caused over a hundred thousand bits in damage to two perfectly good police cruisers. You put two good officers in the hospital and,” he chuckled, “even managed to violate several decency laws to boot.”

Nope, I was never going to live that one down.

“Now since you were, in fact, running for your life, the court system recognizes that the some of actions you took were reasonable given the pressure you were under. However, I hope you understand that it still does not excuse the fact that you broke nearly every traffic law in the book when you made your little getaway, and I still have the right to hold you responsible for the injuries you caused.”

He continued, “As such you are being fined for the damage to both cruisers, the fines for violating flight procedures, the hospital fees of the injured officers, and the indecency charges you racked up on your way out. My accountant said that comes out to... uh... let’s see here.” The chief put on some reading glasses and flipped through one of the documents on his desk. A few moments later he found the line he was looking for. “Three hundred and fifty thousand, nine hundred and seventy-eight bits.”

The hole in my stomach grew a few inches. Goodbye freedom, hello debt. “What if I can’t pay them?” I asked.

“Well normally I’d just throw you in prison and be done with you, except in your case you’ve already paid them,” he replied.

I blinked, “what?”

“We’ve deducted the fines out of your estate. Which brings me to our second order of business.”

The chief slid a manila folder across the table to me. On top of it was a stack of papers, mercifully thin, all signed by Last Chance in large sweeping hoofwriting. I stared at it, confused.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Your lawyer friend placed a lien on the wages owed to you for several years of wage fraud against Mr. Juryrig’s estate. You are receiving market compensation, for the time lost, in addition to the value of a lawsuit that Mr. Chance filed with the state a few hours ago. As a result, we were able to deduct the fines from your winnings.”

As I processed what he said, He kept talking.

“Your lawyer can fill you in on the rest, just know that your fines have been paid. Which leads me to our last bit of business.” He shifted in his chair and fixed me with his best no-bullshit look. “You committed some grievous violations of traffic law during your little escape. As a result, we are suspending your piloting license indefinitely. This is not negotiable.”

My mind cleared instantly as I sank to my haunches. Years of work, gone. I’d never fly again.

“You are no longer permitted to fly a ship within pegasus space until further notice. Be glad it’s not worse than that,” he leveled.

I had to check myself before I said something stupid. He was right. If it wasn’t this way, I would have been atoms in the station core. And I liked my atoms where they were, thank you very much.

“Now before I let you go, do you have any questions?”

Only one mattered. “Will I ever be able to get it back?” I asked nervously.

“Only if you believe in miracles,” he replied. My ears sagged. So much for hopes and dreams, but then again, I had just lived a miracle. Maybe hoping for another one wouldn’t be too far fetched. The chief continued, “now, if you’re willing to cooperate, I might consider it in the future.”

Something inside me tightened. Those words sounded awfully similar to ‘if you would do me a favor’.

“Cooperate with what?” I asked warily.

“The investigation,” he replied. “Thanks to your release this case is now starting over. We need to find Mr. Juryrig’s real killer, and we’ll have to reexamine all the evidence that we have. If you come across any information that will be helpful in solving the case, I would appreciate it if you would forward that information to my department. Am I clear?”

To be fair, I wanted to know too, and considering the extent this pony could screw with my life if he wanted to, it would only help me to comply. “Crystal,” I said, nodding.

“Good. Now get out of my office. Your lawyer friend is waiting to escort you out.”

With that, he returned to his paperwork.

I found Chance waiting for me in the lobby.

“For once the tables are turned,” I mused. Chance’s head turned from the magazine he was reading to see me.

He laughed. “Yes, I suppose they are. Though to be quite honest I’d wait for something like this any day. Are you feeling better?”

Losing my license sucked, but even then, It felt good to be alive. I nodded. “Yeah, the change of clothes was nice, being alive feels nice too. The chief told me you paid my fines.”

Chance smiled. “Yes, and then some. After we left the courtroom I took it upon myself to make sure you had something to get settled with. I think you’ll agree with me when I say that the lady I talked to at the customs office has a wonderful sense of humor.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your friend Junkyard didn’t have any next of kin or any other living relatives to speak of. Once I presented the lawsuit to her she simply transferred his belongings into your name—Ironic, really. Either way, you are now the proud owner of the entirety of Junkyard’s estate.”

Chance smiled at me as he let it sink in. Then it dawned on me. I won. I actually won! I didn’t just win my freedom, I beat the bastard at his own damn game! Take that you son of a bitch!

Chance started laughing, probably at the mad grin I was forming. “I should also mention that includes the starship,” he said.

I stopped. I had a ship. I owned a ship. I actually owned a starship!

“Holy shit,” I muttered, realization washing over me. My childhood dream, realized.

I could go anywhere! Oh.

“What’s wrong?” Chance asked.

“My license has been suspended,” I replied.

Chance grimaced and closed his eyes, a slight groan escaping him, “Well, we can’t win them all I suppose. Still…”

“It’s better than getting flashed,” I finished. He nodded in agreement. “Anything else?”

“Uh, yes, I had to sell the house in order to pay for the fines. Junkyard’s business was not evaluated to be worth much aside from the land value. I took my fee out of the remainder and the rest of it is yours.”

“So which was larger? The fee or the fines?”

Chance smiled. “That would be telling. Either way, you still have enough to get yourself set up for a long while.”

“Just how much was the house worth?”

“Let’s just say it was a very nice house and leave it at that” Chance replied.

“I knew it, I knew the bastard was holding out on me,” I muttered, shaking my head.

Chance laughed. “The exit’s this way.”

Chance trotted off with a spring in his step. I followed him. After a quick conversation with the front desk clerk, and a few signed papers later, we met at the door leading outside. Chance held it open for me.

“After you,” he said, smiling.

I took a deep breath and stepped outside.

Free.

I squinted in the artificial sunlight. It was definitely still daytime on L6-C, maybe late afternoon before the evening rush hour. The air smelled impossibly fresh compared to the last few days. I felt a new energy in my chest, and heat on my face. I was free. No more police chasing after me, no more hiding. I was done. My eyes burned. I was crying.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to see this,” Chance said.

I sniffed. “Yeah,” I said weakly, “I’m glad you could too.” It took me a few minutes to regain my composure.

“So do you think it will help?” I asked as we walked down the steps.

“Hmm?” he intoned.

“Your case. The Just Cause Act?”

“Oh! Right! Er… well,” Chance looked sheepish, “maybe?”

“What, something this big not good enough for you?” I asked incredulously.

“Oh no! It will definitely help! But the circumstances... aren’t as great as I could have hoped for.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding right?” I said.

“This case was extreme,” he explained. “While yes, it did show that the Just Cause Act was in the wrong, the nature of the case leans more to the edge of the bell curve. It’s a start, certainly, but I don’t think I’ll be able to use it as a platform. It’s too easy to dismiss as a fluke, rather than evidence of systematic failure. I will need a few more wins before I’m really able to make progress.”

I sighed, “I see.”

“Don’t look so glum,” he said. “These things take time. But now, I think things might sway more in my favor. After all, I tend to be pretty lucky when it comes to last chances.”

“That was a bad pun, and you should stop before somepony hurts you,” I deadpanned.

Chance laughed, “I suppose I should. Oh! one last thing. Here.” Chance’s horn glowed as he pulled a small device out of his jacket pocket and floated it over to me. It was a square, black cartridge, only a little thicker than a keycard. I picked it up with my WAND, inspecting it.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“This is the master key to Junkyard’s property. You can use this to unlock his office systems, now that the PBJ is done with Junkyard’s office. It will also finish the transfer of his ship to your name. Everything left from the sale of Junkyard’s estate has been moved to a storage unit near his office. The unit’s location is in the key, and it will unlock that as well.”

I looked at it curiously. For something so powerful, it certainly didn’t look like much. Then again, I supposed that was the point. I put it in my suit’s storage for safe keeping.

“So that’s it then?” I asked.

“That’s it,” Chance replied. Chance took a deep, satisfied breath. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have a pile of paperwork to get to.”

“Right.”

Chance turned to leave.

“Hey, uh, Chance?” I called stopping him.

“Hmm?” he replied.

“Thank you, for everything.”

His smile was one of the most genuine I’d ever seen. I felt warm.

“It’s what I do,” he said. “Farewell Horizon. And good luck.”

I watched as Chance disappeared around the street corner, wondering if I’d ever see him again.

“Good luck to you too Chance,” I said to no one in particular, “and may you never need it.” I smiled. Today was a good day.

“Hey there he is!”

Two beaming smiles greeted me from a rent-a-cab near the street curb. Fritter nearly tackled me in a hug, while Joe rolled his eyes, smiling.

“How does it feel to be a free buck, bro?” Fritter asked eagerly.

“Like a million bits,” I replied. Maybe even literally. I made a mental note to check my account once everything had settled down.

“Glad to hear it,” Joe said. “Now that’s settled why don’t we get us some grub. I’m hungry, and tired of listening to Fritter yap.”

I snorted.

“Hey!” Fritter yelled.

“That’s sounds like a great idea,” I said.

I knew just the place too.

Hayfries were on the menu, and alfalfa burgers with lots and lots of ketchup.

“Oh… hello Horizon,” Prism said nervously, setting our order down on the table. She was more reserved than usual, though given our past, that was understandable. “I, um...” she trailed off.

DJ’s was in it’s downtime. The floors, usually loaded with ponies, were empty save for a few lunch goers. It was more of a night crowd place. Once the bar opened during the evening rush, the place would be packed, all full of ponies too plastered to remember anything the next day.

“Busy?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she replied uncomfortably.

“It can wait,” I said.

“Thanks,” with that, she hurried away.

“Fine lookin friend, you got there.” Joe said, waggling his eyes at me. I just about spit my drink.

“Hey, hey it’s nothing like that!” I responded.

“Ri-i-ight.” Fritter said grabbing his sandwich, “I’d bet my cart you’re lying. Besides, nice little fader like that probably wouldn’t mind so much, hooking up with another one like you hmm?”

“I went to jail for murder before, don’t make me do it again,” I replied darkly.

Fritter shrugged it off as he bit down into his sandwich. “Hey! Thesh ish relly gud!”

“Swallow first please,” Joe said, disgusted.

Fritter swallowed, a big grin on his face, as well as a smear of ketchup. “No seriously try it!”

I grabbed my own burger and took a nice big bite.

It was heavenly. I don’t think food had ever tasted so good, especially since I was using Junkyard’s money to pay for it.

“It’s decent,” Joe said examining the rest of his own sandwich. “Needs more salt.”

Maybe it did, maybe it didn’t. I didn’t care, it tasted amazing.

We ate for a few minutes, talking about the case and how very glad I was to be out. Sitting with friends, laughing, eating—It was wonderful. After a little while, a different waitress came around with refills. Apparently Prism had excused herself for the night. Part of me felt a little bad for springing this on her; the darker part of me took a little vindictive pleasure in it. Fritter finished his food first. I could have sworn he inhaled it instead of chewing.

“So,” he said, wiping his mouth with his napkin, “what now?”

What now indeed. I’d just gotten out of prison, narrowly escaped execution, and exacted a belated revenge against my former employer. I’d had a full day!

“If’n I recall, somepony here owes us a couple of favors. And has a nice, shiny new starship too.” Joe grinned at me.

I blanched. “Well, um, about that,” I said sheepishly.

“Don’t tell me, you didn’t get the ship after all that!” Joe exclaimed.

“No, no, I got the ship, it’s just, I... I can’t fly it anymore.”

“Nonsense, boy. You can fly it just fine,” he replied.

“Not here, my license got suspended. I’ll never fly again at this rate,” I clarified.

“And?” Joe said.

“What do you mean and? That’s it! No dice! No license, no flying! My career’s over.”

Fritter snickered.

“What’s so funny?” I said, suddenly feeling depressed.

“You,” Joe answered for him. “You think that having a PC piloting license is the end all to be all?”

“Well, yeah, we’re not exactly leaving here if I don’t have one,” I replied.

Joe rolled his eyes. “Why do you think ponies hate pegasi?” Joe said.

“They’re racist?” I offered.

“No, it’s because of ponies like you.” He said.

“What?” I said, taken aback.

“Pilots, pegasus pilots in particular, a lot of ponies hate you for a simple reason: your politics.”

“I don’t follow.”

Joe looked at Fritter who shook his head. “What can’t you do without a pegasus pilots license,” Joe said patiently.

“Fly starships,” I replied.

“Fly starships in the PC,” Joe corrected. “And who can get a pegasus pilots license?”

Pegasi. Only pegasi.

“Only a pegasus,” He said. “See, a lot of ponies would love to fly in the PC, but they don’t have the licensing to do it. And they can’t get it either, so they have to hire a pegasus pilot like yourself to do it for them.”

“Which is an attitude that spreads to everypony since their loved ones basically get stuck here,” Fritter added.

“And since only pegasi can fly in pegasus space-” I continued, working it out.

“Anypony who needs to go somewhere needs to hire a pegasus to do it,” Joe finished.

Suddenly the docking queues made a lot more sense. No wonder everypony hated us. We were practically destroying their businesses.

“But what if you were, say, outside the PC? Would you need a license then?” Joe asked, and then he added, “the answer is no, by the way. Just in case you were wonderin.”

“Well that’s nice, but-”

“But nothin. There’s more to the galaxy than just thePegasus Cluster, Horizon.”

“But I live here! You want me to just up and leave?”

“Well I don’t see why not! Unless, you know, there’s somepony keeping you here?” I didn’t like the little glint in his eyes.

“I already told you it’s not like that,” I said.

Joe gave me a look. “I’m listenin.”

“I mean sure, Prism and I, we had a thing, once upon a time, but she had her career and I had my… job, and it just really didn’t work out in the end.” That and I probably smelled like sewage. Wait, come to think of it she didn’t seem to mind. What was up with that?

“Alrighty, so why stay?” Joe said.

“Because… uh...”

Why should I stay? I had enough bits according to Chance to live comfortably for a while, and I had a ship in case I needed additional work. Sure I might not live in the PC for the rest of my life, but I could carry on elsewhere. I might eke out a living in the NSR, or hell, even back in the rim worlds. Life out there wasn’t so bad once you got used to it, and I had two friends nearby who could help too. All I had to do was leave everything behind. Except, was it really that simple?

“uh...”

What about Junkyard? What about getting my license back? Could I even get it back? What about junkyard? Why did he matter? And why did he have to die? Someone wanted junkyard dead, and they used me as a convenient fall pony. Why?

“Well, I…”

I could leave. I could stay. But if I stayed what would I do? Was knowing the reason for Junkyard’s fate really that important? Why did Junkyard die? The burning question.

Junkyard’s death had nearly killed me. I had to face one dangerous scrape after another, all because of something he did. To be honest with myself, I wanted to know why. I wanted answers.

“Because I want an answer,” I told him. Immediately, Joe’s face darkened.

“Be careful what you ask for,” he replied.

“Hey guys, check that out!” Fritter said, pointing at a nearby TV.

The news was on, the TV was muted, but I could read the captions. The anchor talked mutely to the camera as a large, impressive starship was pictured to his left.

NSR House flagship reported missing during voyage. Republic fears the worst.

“Shame, isn’t it?” Nightshade commented from the seat next to me.

I just about shit myself. “Where the fuck did you come from?” I yelled.

“I’ve been around. I see you survived your trial,” Nightshade replied.

“Yeah, not that you were any help with that. Why do you care?” I retorted.

“Debts, of course. Enjoy your dinner?”

“Yeah until you showed up.” Fritter spat. Nightshade ignored him.

“What do you want Nightshade?” I asked warily.

“I’m calling in a favor,” Nightshade replied.

Shock and panic immediately set in, followed by caution. “If you need to go somewhere it’ll have to wait, I-”

“You lost your license, I’m well aware. I’m actually more interested in something else you have.”

“And that would be?”.

“That key you were given. I want access to Junkyard’s systems. All of them.”

“Why?” I asked warily.

“My reasons are my own. Give me access and I’ll count that as one small favor.”

I wasn’t about just let that go, not if I could push the point at least. For once I had something he wanted. “How important is this to you?”

“Don’t test me,” he threatened.

“Try me.” I growled back. Joe and Fritter tensed for action.

He looked me in the eye for a moment, and then smirked?

“So you do have a backbone. Very well, I’ll count this as one big favor. But don’t push your luck.”

The air relaxed at the table, if only slightly. “What do you guys think?” I said to the others.

“Leave me outta this.” Joe replied, waving me off. Fritter just shrugged.

“Fine. You’ll get access, but I have a few errands to run first.”

“Done,” Nightshade said. He scooted off the table and left, disappearing in the crowd that was starting to come through the door.

“Creepy.” Fritter said. “Though he seemed a little, I dunno, glad you called him out?”

Nightshade happy? That didn’t bode well. “Whatever. The sooner we’re settled the better.” I said before finishing off my glass of water.

“Well whatever you do, get out quick Horizon. I know trouble when I see it, and he’s trouble. I don’t like him,” Joe muttered darkly.

“Neither do I Joe. Neither do I.” I wasn’t hungry anymore.

Over the next three hours I ran errands. Fritter had excused himself for a while to go get the hotel ready for the night, while I went from place to place, trying to sort out the chaos that followed my trial. I checked my account to confirm the payment and my jaw dropped. I had just over sixty thousand bits to my name.

“Wow, Junkyard really was holding out on me,” I remarked as I stared at the console screen. I had just received the equivalent of four years pay at my old rate, and considering I had lived on less the amount suited me just fine. Granted, it wasn’t enough to retire on, but it was enough to make some improvements to the Bandit if I ever got the chance, or at the very least, tide me over until I could find new job.

“Hmm?” Joe said, looking up from his newspaper.

“It’s nothing,” I quickly said.

“Alright then.”

By the time we reached my apartment, night had fallen. Not that it mattered, the entire apartment building had been condemned. I sat on the street, staring in disbelief at the holographic caution tape blocking the doorway.

“Ooh, tough luck, buck,” Joe commented as he looked at a pile of furniture sitting outside the building. “I certainly hope you didn’t need anythin. Cause that’s gonna suck for a lot o’ ponies.”

I looked around the furniture pile for my couch. Predictably, it wasn’t there.

“Dammit. Wait here Joe, I’m going to see if it’s still in my apartment.”

“What is?”

“My couch,” I said. If there was one piece of home I was not going to leave behind, that was it. I didn’t find it in the storage unit when I checked, and this was last place I had to look.

I flew up to the fifth floor landing, and started counting the dirty windows. Third from the left, North side. Bingo. I opened the balcony to my apartment and looked inside. A few moments later I spotted my prize—in all it’s beaten glory.

“Did ya find it?” Joe called from below.

“Yeah. I’m gonna hop inside really quick, and see if I can’t get it out.”

“And how are you gonna manage that kiddo?”

I smiled at him. “You’re a unicorn right?”

The frown on Joe’s face was instant and somewhat worried. “If you’re planning what I think you are-”

I disappeared inside the room without waiting for the rest of his answer. Scooting behind my couch and giving it a big awkward heave, it scraped its way over toward the landing rail. One edge over, I readied to flip the other.

“Horizon, I really don’t think that’s a good ide-AAH!” The other side of couch disappeared over the railing. I peered over in time to see my couch floating precariously a few feet off the ground. Joe set it down nice and easy, looking more than a little flustered.

“Thanks Joe!” I called down to him with a big smile.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he replied.

I gave him a big grin. “I’ll be right down, I just want to check on something real quick.”

“I guess I’ll just wait here then!” He called back, clearly annoyed.

My apartment was just as dingy as when I had left it. Scouring about, I noted that the front door had been forced, probably when the police breached it. Everything else in the building had been cleared out. The fridge was empty as were the cupboards, and what few clothes I had, somepony had already moved to the storage unit. All that was left were the bare essentials, and nothing I wanted to keep.

I walked back toward the balcony, taking a last, wavering look at the life I was leaving behind. No phantoms of the past greeted me, no fond memories, just old regrets. A life lived in melancholy—over, for now.

I called a mover to send my couch to storage.

Junkyard’s office was cleaner than I remembered. Part of me was willing to bet that was because somebody had absconded with all the stale pastries, but for the most part it was a welcome sight. It was a fresh start for the fledgling business, and I was ready to get to work.

Walking over to Junkyard’s desk, I sat down in the chair. It had been cleaned, like most of the other things in the room, and it was comfortable. No wonder Junkyard spent so much time on his ass. The small desk plate with Junkyard’s name had been moved to a box underneath the desk next to the safe, along with the piles and piles of papers that used to litter it.

“Nice place, for a spaceyard,” Fritter said, eyeing some of the books on the shelves. Everything that was part of the business and not one of Junkyard’s personal effects had been left in place. I noted that Fritter was eyeing the ledgers with some interest.

“You’re free to have at them if you want,” I said. “I don’t think I’ll need them.”

Fritter smiled at me, before returning to his browsing.

I pulled out the key fob with my WAND and looked it over in the light once again. It didn’t have any visible connectors, so I assumed it was probably wireless. Bringing up a list of nearby access points confirmed my suspicions. Of the signals in the room, the fob’s wireless node was located just below the terminal’s. I tried connecting to it and got a text response in my feed.

WAND Identified…

Successor Confirmed.

Granting Administrative Access to all systems.

Done…

Welcome Horizon Seldat. This Master Key Override will transfer ownership of all systems belonging to Mr. Junkyard Juryrig into your name. Continue? Y/N?

I put in my confirmation and the fob went to work. One by one each of computers in the room unlocked.The red blinking lights on the terminal flashed blue, and then the terminal lit up.

“There it goes! Looks like we’re in business,” I said.

“Awesome,” Fritter said, “mind if I take a crack at it?”

“Go for it,” I said. I got out of the chair, using my WAND to interface with the computer while Fritter started browsing.

“Anything in particular you want me to look for?” Fritter asked.

I rubbed my chin for a moment as I thought of what might give us some answers. “Try looking through the message history, he might have pissed someone off. Or maybe look into his finances. I’m kinda curious how he was able to afford the house that paid my fines.”

“Alright, I’ll start with the finances then,” Fritter said as he sat down at the terminal. I turned my attention to the real dilemma. How much money was in Junkyard’s safe?

Greedily, I crawled underneath the desk to the floor safe and waved the fob over it. One beep later and the light turned green. Rubbing my hooves together, I opened it. What I found was rather disappointing.

Three bitsticks, each with only 500 bits apiece, sat next to a small pile of papers and a powered down tablet.

I pocketed the bitsticks and the tablet, and then dumped the papers on top of the desk. I looked up into Nightshade’s unamused face.

“I see you started without me,” he said.

“You said you wanted access, you got it. You didn’t say you wanted it first,” I told him.

“Touché,” he replied. For whatever reason, he didn’t push the point, he simply started working at the other console behind the desk.

I turned my attention back to the terminal Fritter was working at, my WAND still connected. Browsing Junkyard’s files, I selected his message history.

Messenger service not detected on this device. Download? Y/N?

I put in my affirmation, eager to see what Junkyard was up to the day he died. My WAND connected to the network, pulled down a program from the M-Net, and then opened the new email application. A graphic played, opening up a small window near the edge of my vision.

Welcome to the Equus Messenger Network! Mail history has been loaded. You have 118 unread messages and 1 draft.

I selected the draft and started reading. The message was short and unfinished, probably made in the moments before Junkyard died. It was set to broadcast to his entire contact list.

Scatter Scatter Scattedo9glh

“The hell?” I muttered.

“What’s up?” Fritter asked.

“This message.” I set my WAND to display, and the window came to life above the desk. Nightshade eyed it from across the room.

“Send that,” Nightshade said. “Quickly, someone might be depending on it.”

I gave Nightshade a quizzical look.

“Please?” he amended. A humble request from Nightshade? Well… okay.

I sent it.

“Anything else on there?” Fritter asked, curious.

I scrolled through the messages. Most appeared to be recovery requests related to his business, none of which struck me as terribly interesting. There was one conversation, however, from somepony listed as ‘WS’ that caught my eye. I opened it:

Not making much progress on my end. The brass have been stubborn and the systems have some pretty heavy protection. the How is everything on your side? - WS

All quiet aside from the other shit I have to deal with. Horizon is still a pill, and I’m still not making what I used to. I should never have built that piece of shit ship. I’ve got bigger problems anyway. I think they’re closing in on me. - JJ

I’m not so sure about that, Junks. Their net has been quiet for a while now. If they were coming after you I would have seen something by now. - WS

I’ve had to watch my back the last few weeks. I think someone is stalking me at night. Or something. I’ve got eyes on the street looking out, but they say they haven’t seen anything yet. Hopefully I’m just being paranoid. - JJ

Hopefully, just stay safe out there. I’ll chime in if I find anything - WS

“Well that’s interesting, looks like your employer had some heat,” Fritter said.

“Considering he’s dead,” I replied.

Nightshade was frowning.

“You got something to say Nightshade?”

“What did you do for your employer again?” he asked.

“Salvager. I recycled space junk for spare parts.”

“What kind of junk?” he said, curious.

“Old satellites, trash dumps, dead ships, that sort of thing.”

Nightshade nodded. “That explains this then.” Nightshade set a small cardlike object with a bitswipe down on the desk.

“Is that a-”

“Bit skimmer. Nice way to hide cash transfers, when you need privacy. Your boss was probably selling info on the black market. I could probably track the transfers if I had the stick he used for them,” Nightshade said.

“Why do I get the feeling that would have strings attached?” I asked.

“No strings, I’m interested too,” Nightshade replied. “Did you find anything in the financials?”

“Nope. Clean. Though from the looks of things we’ll probably find a few things missing from inventory.”

“Let’s get to work then.” I said.

We spent most of the night going over records. Joe brought coffee and then joined us in our diving. Our search didn’t find too much. I compared the records to those on the tablet in his office and found that indeed, some of the items in the inventory were missing, but more interestingly, a lot of what Nightshade described as valuable was still there. Blackboxes from old ships, Decayed records from dead satellites. One by one we tracked them down and found them in the inventory. Fritter offered that Junkyard might have just copied the data, but Nightshade was adamant that wouldn’t be the case. Something about confidentiality and duplicates.

What was more interesting were his financials. With the key fob, I gained access to Junkyard’s bank account. From there we compared his transaction records to those listed from his business. Junkyard’s salary seemed to be about fifty-fifty. Fifty percent came from the scrap business he ran, and the rest came in sporadic deposits.

Any way you looked at it, Junkyard was hiding something. Unfortunately all we got from our investigation were more questions.

Later in the night, Nightshade left, leaving just myself and Fritter at the office. Joe had left to get coffee and more food.

“So did you find anything on Nightshade yet?” I asked Fritter I was sure Nightshade was gone.

“No. No leads as of yet, but I’ve got ponies looking for me now. The ones I trust anyway. He’s a slippery one.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

Fritter got onto his hooves, stretching his wings before sitting down on the floor. He looked worn out from all the research we’d done. “I think we should call it a night for now Horizon. I’m not getting anything more out of these files.”

“Sounds good to me.” Joe said, walking in the door with a bag of subs hanging off his side. “Though you should know that we might be having a visitor soon.” He set the bag on the desk and casually pulled out a sub.

“Company?” I asked. A knock came at the door.

“Don’t worry. It’s not trouble,” Joe said, biting into his sub. I gave him a weird look and then walked over to the door. I keyed the control.

Standing in the doorway was Officer Silvermane.

“Well you’re about the last person I expected to see at this hour,” I said.

“And you wouldn’t if I had a choice,” she replied.

I raised an eyebrow. “What’d I do this time?”

“Nothing. I need to ask you for a personal favor, however.”

I keyed the door lock. Indignant yells followed me as I walked back into the office proper.

“What was that about?” Fritter asked.

“Just something stupid,” I said, sitting down next to Fritter and pulling out my sub.

The white pegasus started rapping on the window. I ignored her angry shouts as I bit into my sandwich. Daisy, tomato, and alfalfa, not bad. It needed salt. I started rummaging through the bag for one of the salt packages. In the meantime, I took another bite.

The pegasus’ muffled voice carried through the window, “If you help me, I can get your license restored.”

That darn tomato caught in my throat. I doubled over in a coughing fit while Joe patted me on the back as I relearned how to swallow.

“What?” I managed, looking back at the window. The pony on the other side pointed toward the door. Setting my dinner down, I walked over and let her in.

“You have my attention,” I said.

“You know, I really don’t get what Prism sees in you, are you always this much of an asshole?” she asked.

“Yep!” Fritter called from the office. I looked back and glared at him. He contented himself with his food.

“What do you need?” I asked.

“I need to borrow your ship,” she said.

I raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have a cruiser? Why the hell would you need to use mine?”

“Uh, well...” she chuckled nervously, “funny story. It’s kind of... gone.”

I stared at her for a few seconds. “You lost a cruiser?” I asked, my voice rising in disbelief.

“It was stolen, actually.”

Fritter was laughing his ass off in the back. “Oh my Celestia that’s just priceless.”

“Can’t you get a new one?Officer Silvermane?”

“When I brought you in, I wasn’t exactly dispatched. I just wanted Prism to have a little chance to chat with you face to face. I was in the area anyway, and it looked like a good opportunity.”

“So Prism did sick you on me!”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m somepony else’s attack dog,” she argued. “I made the decision to go after you, not her.”

“Alright, then why? Why go to all that trouble?”

“Because it was right. You were a wanted pony, and I wanted to bring you to justice. You weren’t exactly hard to find either.”

“Hard to find? What do I have a beacon on my head or something?”

“Smart criminals don’t make the headlines days after escaping from police,” she retorted.

“Except I wasn’t a criminal,” I shot back, “I was innocent.”

“I know, or so I discovered when I went back over your file,” she said.

“Why did you do that, anyway?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I listened to the recordings between you and your counsel. When I heard about that little video I decided to do my own checking. My cousin doesn’t go all-in with just anypony after all. Both of the videos were there, the prosecutor just found the one of your copy first and went didn’t bother with the other.”

“Then why did you wait till the last minute then?”

“I wanted to see you sweat for getting Prism fired from her job,” she replied with a smile.

“You have a very twisted sense of justice,” I said.

“I am an officer of the PBJ. I am justice,” she said with pride.

Joe coughed.

“You say something?” she warned. Joe simply continued to eat.

“That still doesn’t tell us why you needed his ship.” Fritter offered, having finished his own sandwich.

“My boss refused to replace my cruiser.”

“Wait, was he the chief I met this morning?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“He seems like a real hardass.”

She laughed. “He’s a good pony. Maybe a little extra-boiled, but, still a good pony.”

“Who won’t replace your cruiser,” I pointed out.

She shook her head, “Regardless, I need your ship so I can do my job. If you help me find mine, then I’ll get your license restored.”

“And if I don’t?” I replied.

“Then I’ll invoke state rights and take it anyway. Seeing as you’re unable to fly it, I shouldn’t have too much trouble explaining it to my superiors.”

“Except state rights can only be used during national emergencies,” I corrected her.

I had her. I had her and she knew it. She sighed. “Which is why I’m asking you for a favor.”

I took a moment to think about it. If I ever wanted to get my license back I would need to be in the chief’s good graces. If helping her get her starship back would better my chances, all the better. Then again, she was in hot water herself. Who was to say she still had any pull? I had obligations, and this was a risk with no definite payout. Then again...

“I’ll think about it. I owe my friends here some favors first,” I finally said.

“And I’m on a timetable,” she replied.

“We can wait,” Joe said, “My whiskey isn’t gonna spoil or anythin. Just let me know when you’ve got it and I’ll be sure to save a seat for ya.” Fritter nodded his agreement. Well I guess that was that.

“Alright fine, but my ship doesn’t go anywhere without me on it,” I said.

“Well if that’s the case,“ she said as a smile spread across her face, “what’s your opinion on bounty hunting?”

81% Remaining...

Author's Note

Here it is! And much faster than I had anticipated. I hope you enjoy it. This one was much easier to write than the last chapter. Boy am I glad that is over with.

11 - Chapter Eleven: Space Cowboy

Chapter Eleven

Space Cowboy

“Control to Golden Dawn, please repeat your last transmission. Golden Dawn? Golden Dawn, respond. Cherry, could you check the signal? We’re having trouble getting through.”

“It’s not us sir, we’ve lost the signal completely! It’s like they’re just… gone! Oh my goddesses… they’re gone!”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY’RE GONE?”
- Age of Harmony Ends - 3333 E.C.

Despite the early hour, I felt energized. We had spent the night at a hotel near Junkyard’s office that Fritter scored at the last minute. Granted, it wasn’t the nicest place, here and there you could still see the telltale signs of age buried underneath layers of chipped paint, but it was a far cry above the dingy apartment that I had grown so used to over the years. Clean sheets, a warm bed, working showers, I could probably go on for ages about the differences, but for brevity I’ll just say this. It was... nice. I probably spent far too long that morning taking a hot shower before drying off and slipping back into my freshly laundered flight suit. I paid for everything, of course, but now that I had some bits to spare any preconceived notions of ‘it would cost too much’ seemed to melt away. I took a deep breath and felt a newfound energy pulsing through me—Opportunity. Today was going to be a big day; I could feel it. But while I wasn’t looking forward to the possible danger, I knew that I would at least have the guidance of someone who was a veteran at this sort of thing.

Officer Silvermane had insisted that this would be a milk run, just some unfortunate soul who strayed on the wrong side of the law. We had intel and we had a lead, all we really needed to do was show up. The thought of running back headlong into danger still didn’t appeal to me, but if it was going to help me get my wings back... maybe it would be worth it. I still wished I could take my friends with me, however.

Fritter and Joe stood with me on the dark curb just outside the hotel as we prepared to leave. In the dim light of the pre-dawn cycle, Joe passed me an apologetic look as he and Fritter stepped toward the taxi they had ordered a few minutes prior. Joe smiled sadly, his sympathetic eyes adding to the sinking feeling that was working its way through my chest.

“You’re… not coming. Are you.” It was more a statement than question, simply by looking at his eyes I already knew my answer.

Joe looked downcast. “I’m sorry Horizon, I really am, but I can’t help ya. I’ve a bar to run back home, and I’ve already been gone for too long as it is. I do hope you understand.”

To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. My ears wilted as I understood what he was telling me, but I doubted that any puppy-eyes I could give him would change his mind. It had been nice to have their company when everything had gone to hell. Heck, just being at my trial certainly helped keep my nerves in check as I stood before the court. Still, I couldn’t blame him. He and Fritter had dropped everything in order to come help me out, and now that I was free, they had their own problems to sort out.

With a sad sigh, I nodded glumly and sighed, “I understand Joe, thank you for everything,” I said, meaning every word, “I don’t think I’d be where I am right now if you and Fritter didn’t come bail me out.” The truth was painful to admit. If things had gone only slightly differently...

Joe’s smile brightened a little, a small sparkle returning to his eyes. “Think nothin of it kiddo. I’d do the same for any of my friends. But do me a favor and try and keep your nose clean from now on, okay? I don’t wanna to have to fly halfway across the galaxy to pull your ass out of the fire again.”

I sniffed and laughed. “I’ll try not to,” I replied, feeling slightly better, “Though no promises, knowing my luck I’ll probably get dragged into something else within a week.”

“Good enough,” Joe chuckled as he glanced back at the taxi. “Now, you’d best get yourself going before your officer friend gets the wrong idea.” He turned and then stopped, looking as if he’d suddenly forgotten something. “Oh! and don’t forget about my whiskey,” he added quickly, thrusting a hoof into my chest for emphasis. “You can have a glass on the house once you bring it back, but make sure. You. Don’t. Forget. To. Bring it. Got that?”

A dull ache had started where he had been poking me, it would probably bruise later. I returned his smile the best I could, surprised at the sudden gesture. “I-I’ll remember,” I said uncertainly, slowly regaining my confidence, “I promise.”

“Good,” Joe said with a sharp nod, “I’ll see ya the next time ya drop in.” He turned and waved as he started trotting off toward the cab, “Take care Horizon.”

“You too Joe,” I sighed.

“Aw, look at him, I think the big lug likes you,” Fritter teased as he watched Joe get in the cab.

Inwardly, I groaned. “Gee, what gave you that impression?”

Fritter gave me a shit-eating smile. “Oh this and that,” he said, “on a more serious note, though, I need to get going too.”

“You too, huh?,” I asked, shoulders slumping.

A look of guilt crossed his face as Fritter coughed, glancing aside. “As much as I’d love to go chasing bad guys, Horizon, I need to get back to work,” he said, “The past few days haven’t done much to figure out our little mystery buck, and if I’m going to find you some answers, I need to get started on research.”

I nodded and sighed, “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I guess I’m just not looking forward to doing this alone.”

Fritter placed a comforting hoof on my shoulder and gave me his best smile. “You’re not alone, Horizon, or at least not alone with ball-butt anyway,” he said, rolling his eyes. He brightened, “After all, you’ve got that sexy officer to keep you company! Remember?” The cheerful way he put that made me uncomfortable for some reason.

“Hardass isn’t my flavor, Fritter,” I replied evenly.

He shrugged it off, “Well, at least I tried. We’ll find you a nice mare someday, I promise.”

“We?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

Fritter chuckled sheepishly, “Oh! uh, well, um, Joe and I might have a teensie bit of a bet to see who can hook you up first,” he explained. His voice hushed as he leaned closer to me, “but don’t tell him I said that cause you’re not supposed to know.” He winked.

“Says the information broker,” I said. “Sometimes I wonder how you stay in business.”

“Family recipe?” Fritter offered with a cheeky grin. Extending a leg, he pulled me into a hug, “Just stay safe out there, okay? And don’t let ball-butt push you around anymore. Who knows what’s he’s planning?”

The mere thought of Nightshade was enough to set me back on edge. Somewhere out there was a purple haired buck with a bad habit of dragging me into trouble. The fact that I was already headed in that direction wasn’t helping either. If I was a betting buck, I’d bet bits that he’d worm his way onto the job somehow. I don’t think anypony would bet against me either. “No kidding,” I sighed, “I’ll do my best Fritter. Just let me know if you find something okay?”

“I’ll keep in touch,” he replied with a smile. “Anyway! It’s time for me to split. The cab is on my dime and I’m getting charged by the minute. Stay safe!” He trotted over to the rent-a-cab, and with a last wave, hopped in with Joe. A steady thrum filled the air as the cab lifted off and turned to join the trickling flow of morning traffic high above. The taxi’s taillights faded into the distance while I watched from the curb.

“Praise Luna for you guys,” I said aloud. It wasn’t every day you met a pony ready and willing to help a total stranger, much less two. I felt lucky to be able to call them my friends, and luckier, still, to be alive.

By the time I met up with Officer Silvermane, the dawn cycle had kicked in. Light started flooding the streets as the artificial skyline brightened, and the lamps turned off one by one. I made the short trot to our rendezvous, and spotted her waiting for me just outside a small deli. She looked clean and pressed, her dark flight suit accentuating the white of her coat nicely with her cutie mark emblazoned on the suit’s flanks. Badge on batons, if anypony was born to be a police officer, you couldn’t have picked a better poster child. Between her hard demeanor and her piercing blue eyes, Silvermane struck a figure that would leave a lasting impression on anypony. She also looked slightly annoyed to my growing chagrin. My goodbyes had kept her waiting.

“There you are.” She said, finally noticing me. “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to skip out.”

I stopped as I took up a position next to her and sat down on the curb. “What? I’m only five minutes late,” I replied innocently.

“Which puts us five minutes behind schedule.” She said as she smoothed an errant curl out of her mane.

“We have a long flight ahead of us, I doubt five minutes is going to put too much of a dent in our arrival. It’s not like we’re gonna miss a shuttle or anything.”

Silvermane frowned. “No, but we might lose the target if we don’t get going,” she replied flatly. “My intel is fresh, but only for the next few hours. The longer we wait, the less we’ll have to go on.”

“Right,” I said.

A thrum caught our attention, drawing our eyes skyward. “There’s our ride.” Silvermane said, looking at the rent-a-cab descending toward the curb. The black and yellow car came to a stop next to us, hovering a few inches above the ground while we both sidled into place. As I got situated, Silvermane’s WAND glowed and she rummaged through her suit’s storage and pulled out a bitstick.

“Dock alpha nine.” She told the cab, flashing the bitstick across the reader. It chirped an reply and then the cab started moving. I settled into my seat, watching the buildings go by at an unsettling speed while falling inline with the rest of the flow of traffic. Silvermane sat back down in the seat next to me and we waited, an awkward silence driving along between us until she finally decided to break the ice.

“So I spoke with your friend Nightshade,” she said.

And there he was. Half my brain went ‘cha-ching’ until I remembered that no one had bet against me. I squeezed my eyes shut as I suppressed a groan. “What about him?” I replied, pointedly staring out the window at the morning commute. Even this early in the morning the lanes were already getting packed. Thank Luna I wasn’t a commuter, if I had to do that every morning I’d go insane. Then again, with the way the station queues were structured maybe I already had.

“He seemed like an interesting buck,” Silvermane continued, determined to get a conversation out of me.

“That’s one way of putting it,” I sighed, pulling my attention away from the window.

Silvermane shifted in her seat, looking me up and down with one part interest and two parts skepticism. Whatever she was seeing she wasn’t happy with it. A frown pecked at the corners of her mouth every time looked at me. “Alright so spill, what’s your problem with him? You and your other friends always seem like you’re waiting for him to shoot you in the back.”

“It’s… complicated,” I said.

Silvermane’s frown deepened. “We’ve got a few minutes, explain.” It was more of an order than a request, something I was sure I would have to get used to if I was going to work with her for any length of time.

I struggled for a moment as I tried to sum up all the reasons why I hated Nightshade, trying to find some way to condense several weeks of less than subtle coercion into words. Failing that, I settled for the next best thing, “Let’s just say I owe him a few favors that he’s intent on collecting,” I said. “Half of that is why I ended up on that cargo ship a few weeks back.”

“So I’ve read in the report, did he hire you to go out there?” she asked.

“Sort of. He hired me for a salvage operation. Get in, grab what we came for, get out. As soon as we got there, he changed the job by telling me we had board the damn thing instead of just disassembling it, and the next thing I knew, we were onboard getting shot at by a bunch a terrorists and running for our lives. He never told me that we’d be having company. Hell, if I had known that, I would called the damn thing off then and there.” Not that he’d let me. I thought quietly.

“You’re being quite forward with this information,” Silvermane remarked, her head tilting slightly to one side.

“That’s because I’m still trying to find a way out of it, and on that note, any ideas you might contribute would be very gratefully accepted.” Her frown didn’t change so I kept going, “I don’t like Nightshade. I don’t like him because he’s dangerous. I know he’s dangerous. He gets into dangerous things, a lot, and I’ve seen it first hand. I crossed paths with him by chance, and then suddenly he’s calling the shots. He starts throwing around a bunch of crap about favors,” I had a hard time not spitting the word, “and the next thing I know he’s dragging me all around on his little errands. I swear if he’s not trying to force me into one thing, then he’s dragging me off to the next.”

Silvermane’s frown never faltered while she thought over what I was saying. “I think you’re judging him too hard,” she said.

I blinked, “What?”

She sighed, slumping back into her seat as she fixed me with a stare that felt like it was boring into me somehow. The ice blue of her irises made her look like some sort of predator—always sharp and focused, with just a hint of the intelligence behind them. “I did my research on you two. I found the report from the patrol that rescued you back on Winter’s Edge and did some study on my own. I know about your little adventure on the cargo ship, and how you managed to make it out. In fact, that’s half the reason why I invited you to come along for this trip. I know you had a bad experience, I get that, but I don’t think you’re right in blaming him for the consequences. The fact that he helped keep you alive in there says to me that he’s a lot more interested in your well-being than you give him credit for, and from what you’re telling me, and he is into these kinds of things all the time, then he’s probably good at it. Keeping a cool head under fire, that’s a quality that you don’t find in most ponies. That saves lives. I know from experience.”

At my own frown, she looked out the window at the passing buildings and sighed. “A while back I used to be part of a special forces unit attached to the enforcement arm. We had been dispatched to deal with a distribution center owned by a major drug cartel in the West End which we discovered was the central chokepoint for their logistics. Things were going pretty good. We had secured three of their warehouses in a single night without any problems, but, on our way out, we got cocky. We got a tip about a fourth warehouse, and jumped on it,” Silvermane sighed. “It was a trap. Three kill teams were waiting for us inside. They led us into an open area knowing we would have to check the crates, and then once we did, they sealed the exits behind us. We nearly lost the entire squad in the firefight. They would have gotten all of us if my squad leader hadn’t kept his head. We made it out, but only barely. Out of the Six of us that went in, only two of us left.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Officer Silvermane shook her head, “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault. It’s a risk we all take as part of the job, or at least that’s how I cope with it.” She sighed, ”In the end we both got promoted, but, I haven’t worked with a fireteam ever since.”

I shifted my weight toward the door of the cab, placing more of my weight against the leg rest. “So… do you miss it?” I asked.

Silvermane looked thoughtful for a moment. “A little, but the freedom that came with the promotion has been pretty nice too. Even if it was the end of my career,” she said bitterly.

“That still doesn’t excuse Nightshade.”

She shrugged, “Maybe not, but if I were you, I would be grateful it was him and not somepony else. From what he told me, when he found you, you weren’t in any condition to defend yourself.”

Vaguely, I remembered the day in the alley, but only vaguely, I’m pretty sure the blunt trauma erased the rest. I frowned. I didn’t like it, but, maybe she had a point. “So, what did you and Nightshade talk about?” I asked cautiously.

“Just a few questions. He approached me about joining this bounty job. I nearly laughed him off until I learned a bit about his history.”

That got my attention. “He actually told you his history?” I said in disbelief.

Silvermane looked thoughtful. “Not specifically, he’s ex-military, I can tell you that much, although which military remains a big question. I know he’s a specialist—I’ve dealt with enough to know the type—He works as a freelance mercenary of some rapport in the Winter’s Edge sector and a few other places around the Rim.”

“How do you know he’s telling the truth?” I asked skeptically. She gave me an annoyed glare in return.

“I’m not stupid, Horizon. I contacted some of his previous employers and they all confirmed his story. Or at least the parts of it they knew.”

“So what, you just up and trust him now?”

“As far as I can drop him,” she said with a smile, “I know how to watch my back, don’t worry.”

“He’s worried about you, by the way,” Silvermane added. “He thinks he scared the shit out of you with the last job.”

I grunted. “That’s an understatement. First he drags me into a gang war, and then the very next thing we do is go-.”

“Wait…gang war?” she interrupted, eyes narrowing. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the bloody mess happening on Winter’s Edge, would it?”

I shrunk my seat, suddenly conscious of the scrutinizing glare she was giving me. “I think… it might have started it?” I said, self-consciously glancing away from her raised eyebrow. For a split-second I started seeing flashes of light and shuddered. “I’d rather not talk about it. It’s… still a bit of a sore spot for me.”

She didn’t push the point, but her skepticism was still palpable. “So... you’re okay with this?” she said, gesturing to the entire cab with a foreleg.

I took a deep breath. “If it’s to get my license back, I’ll do it,” I said. “After all, it’s just one pony right? I’d say Three-on-one is pretty good odds assuming Nightshade is coming with us. Like you said earlier, a milk run. After that, I have enough bits now to make it on my own if I need to. Maybe I’ll head back to the Rim and look for transport contracts or something. Now that I have my own ship, I’ve got tons of things I can do.”

This time it was her turn to flinch, “I hate to break it to you, but, it’s probably going to take a while to find my ship. We may end up chasing more than just one bounty.”

Internally I groaned, but then, really, was there any helping it? I set my jaw, “Then I’ll do whatever it takes, officer. I just want my freedom back.”

She considered that for a moment, and then smiled. “I can respect that,” she said, and then added, “call me Jess, by the way. The title gets annoying.”

We arrived at the hangars a few minutes later, and found Nightshade waiting patiently for us at the airlock. He grinned when he saw me, and I could have sworn I saw some mischievous glint in his eye once he saw who I had with me.

“So, off on another dangerous adventure, eh Horizon?” Nightshade said. His tone sounded as knowing as it was teeth-grindingly patronising. He nudged me with his elbow as we entered the airlock and started sealing up.

Grumbling, I put on my helmet. “I take it you’re coming too?” I said. It wasn’t a really question, I already knew the answer. Instead I passed a glance toward Jess, who pretended not to notice and busied herself with needlessly adjusting her helmet.

“As a matter of fact I am!” Nightshade said innocently, “By request, even. So it seems like we’ll be working together again.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

My helmet clicked into place, my ears popping as my suit pressurized. I sighed into the scrubber, the sound of which played back into my ears with a slight delay. “Just another day in paradise.” I muttered lamely. The chamber started venting, air flooding out with a loud whooshing sound that died in a whisper.

“Proxy check, one-two, one-two” Jess said over the S-Band.

“Clear,” I said.

“Also clear,” Nightshade responded. He looked at me from underneath his helmet. His eyes were hard to read, but I could have sworn I saw something in there. Was it pride? I shook my head.

“And clear,” Jess finally said. “Once the gate opens, just follow my lead and I’ll get us waved through.”

Waved through? I thought, somewhat confused. No one gets ‘waved through’.

The other side of the Airlock finally opened.

My confusion was replaced with surprise. As the blast door opened, I immediately noticed a thick blue line crossing the platform just beyond the airlock. We were in the priority docks, a section of the hangar that was reserved exclusively for very important clients and military personnel. It was a rare day that anypony was allowed to park here. The idea that a ship like the Scrap Bandit was parked in here somewhere made me snort.

“What’s the matter?” Jess asked, looking back from the doorway.

“Nothing,” I replied, smiling to myself.

After passing a small checkpoint, our trio made our way onto the main platforms. From our position on the main deck, I could see that the hangar was still as busy as ever. A neverending line of ships snaked its way through the hangar overhead, while on the nearby platforms, groups of ponies made their rounds, either servicing the ships, or boarding them.

Where we stood was a stark difference. In the secluded priority docks, ponies were few and far between. Aside from the occasional, passing military pony, the platform we were on was nearly empty. Sleek police cruisers were parked in neat rows, each bearing the black-on-white emblem of the Sandwich Corps painted on their hulls. As we made our way across the main platform, my eyes caught on a pair of Type Nines—large, battleship class police ships—docked side-by-side, while a small cadre of technicians fussed over them. Both ships looked like they had just seen action. One had its emblem blackened from weapons fire, while the other had some missile indents on its topside. I lingered for a moment, staring, until Nightshade nudged me back into motion. Tearing my eyes away from the ships, I started looking for the Bandit.

“So where’s my ship?” I asked over the S-Band.

“It should be down there,” Jess replied. She pointed to a smaller platform below us. Carefully approaching the edge, I peered over to get a better look. Three-quarters of the way down and toward the back, I spotted the Bandit, or at least what I thought was the Bandit. From a distance it looked different than I remembered. Cleaner? maybe?

“I had some of the technicians move it in here from the impound,” Jess continued. “They bitched about it, but they can’t exactly say no either,” Jess chuckled..

“In the priority docks?” I replied “Isn’t that expensive?”

The officer shrugged. “Not for us. We regulate the platforms. No sense in getting us stuck in a queue when we need to do our jobs. Call it a perk.” Her helmet bobbed in a self-satisfied nod.

Perk was an understatement. The queues could take hours depending on the flow of traffic. Undocking during peak hours took eons. Any pilot worth their salt would kill for such a timesaver.

As my gaze wandered back to the two battleships we had just passed, my curiosity got the better of me. “What’s with the Type Nines?” I asked, nudging my head back toward the damaged ships.

Jess’ helmet turned first toward me, and then behind me. After a moment, she shrugged her head. “They probably had a run in with some pirates or something. We’ve been having a little more trouble lately since the dogs started operating near the borders.” She said as she positioned herself for a jump to the next platform. I followed her onto the underside, stepping over the rounded edge and onto the transfer plate. Oh the joys of zero G!

“The Devil Dogs have been moving in?” Nightshade asked, interested.

“Yeah, and burning everything they come across,” Jess replied. She jumped, casually rocketing herself toward the platform where the bandit was docked. “We’ve been finding more and more wrecked ships near international space. We’ll drive them out eventually, but for now we’re just focused on keeping them out of the major space lanes. We’re doing our best to keep them on their toes, raiding known hideouts, and doubling patrols. It’s been working, but very slowly. The last thing we need is for them to get a foothold in the region; we have enough paperwork as it is.”

Nightshade went next, and I followed behind. As we crossed the empty expanse between the platforms, I couldn’t help but notice the slightly defensive posture Nightshade was holding. I chuckled.

“Still afraid of floating off Nightshade?” I joked, finally deciding to break the ice between us.

“Ha. Ha. Horizon,” he replied.

“You two went spacewalking without a maneuvering harness?” Jess asked, some concern etched into her voice.

“The Bandit doesn’t have them in stock,” I said. “Junkyard deemed it unimportant to my job.”

“Damn, and I thought my boss was cheap,” she muttered.

We landed topside. Bandit in sight, I suddenly noticed why it looked different from afar. Sitting awkwardly on its dorsal frame was a small energy turret, and a second on its underside. I gawked as new possibilities started flitting through my mind. Foremost being the pony responsible.

“Nightshade, what did you do to my ship?” I asked, pointing at my ship with indignation. If this had anything to do with future plans...

“I had it fixed,” Nightshade casually replied as he tried to trot past me. I caught him in the chest with my hoof and pointed at the turret.

“That is not a fix,” I said pointedly.

Nightshade rolled his eyes. “So I might have made a teensie lie about a few parts that were damaged in the fight,” he added sheepishly.

“And what else did you ‘fix’?”

“Oh, this and that.” he said, shrugging it off. Something in his tone made me want to kick him.

“If you two are finished yammering, I’ve got work to do. Hurry up and get inside so we can get moving.” Jess said over the radio.

I looked up to see the hatch on the Bandit close just as Jess disappeared inside. I kicked up a few moments later and landed next to it, opening the hatch back up before pulling myself inside. I yelped in pain as I banged my helmet against something solid and the radio blared static in my ears.

“What the-” I muttered, my ears still ringing from impact. I had smacked my head into a bulkhead that had been recently installed.

“That wasn’t there before…” I muttered, dumbfounded. Slowly, I looked around the rest of what I realized was a small chamber built into the back end of the passageway. It wasn’t spacious by any measure, but the tight confined space was instantly recognisable. I was in an airlock. The Bandit had a sun-damned airlock!

I stood there dumbfounded while Nightshade came in from behind me. “Nightshade, I don’t know what kind of shit you pulled-” I began, glancing in disbelief around the chamber.

“Yeah, yeah, thank me later.” He replied, closing the hatch behind him. The door sealed, and a small red light near the exit started flashing. Then, the chamber started flooding with air. For the first time ever I could hear inside the Scrap Bandit. The low thrum of the shipboard systems greeted me, as I stood in awe of the monumental makeover the ship had been given. There was air in the Bandit, that was new. A quick check of my WAND told me that the air was even breathable.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I muttered. An airlock? life support? what else did he have them fix? As it was now, my ship was more than merely functional, what else could their be? Ideas started flooding my head as I began thinking of all the things I could use it for.

Nightshade removed his helmet and flashed me a smile. “If I’m going to be flying around with you, I’m at least going to do it with, you know, basic amenities?” He pressed a hoof against the door control and it slid smoothly open. Casually trotted into the main access hallway, I was left standing in the airlock and staring at his backside.

As my eyes slid past him, I spotted Jess by the entrance to the pilot’s cabin reaching for the door control. Several things added up in my head in rapid succession: Air, cockpit, breach.

“WAIT!” I yelled as she keyed the door control. She looked back at me quizzically as the door opened and… nothing happened.

“What’s wrong?” Jess asked, her head canted to one side while her helmet floated beside her in her WAND’s levitation field.

“N-nothing.” I replied, dumbfounded. The cockpit had been fixed too. Hot damn.

“O-okay then,” she replied, looking slightly weirded out. As she stepped inside, the door slid shut behind her.

I gawked in awed silence. My ship actually worked! With a budding grin, I started off toward the pilot’s cabin, unused to the feel of gravity underneath my hooves. A giddy sensation built up inside my chest as I started fantasizing about all the new things I could do inside my ship. I reached the door to the cabin, keyed the control, and it opened smoothly.

Praise the moon. Praise Luna and her beautiful black-

Inside, I found Jess already seated in what looked like a brand new pilot’s chair. She had just finished locking herself in, and was busy adjusting the straps for comfort. I felt tears forming in my vision.

It’s beautiful...

“You know, this ship is a lot nicer than I thought it would be,” Jess said. “From the outside it looked like a real pile.”

I resisted the urge to snort. “She is a real pile,” I corrected her, struggling to contain my enthusiasm “or at least she was, I hardly even recognize her now.”

Jess considered that for a moment and then shook her head, returning to the controls and waving at me to come closer. “Whatever. Let me see that keyfob so we can get underway.” Rummaging through my suit storage, I floated the fob over to her with my WAND. She waved it over the main console, and then the ship’s systems started lighting up. Bouncing on the tips of my boots, I waited for the main computer to unlock. As soon as the interface node opened, I connected and ran a quick diagnostic. A list of the active and inactive systems soon popped up in my WAND’s readout and I greedily opened it up into it’s own window.

“Holy shit,” I mumbled, browsing over its contents.

They’d fixed everything! Well, mostly. I read through a list of errors that the systems were having. The Sparkle Drive was still miscalibrated, and the less critical systems were still reporting small fractures in their backup components. The shipboard computer was having a difficult time trying to get all the systems to work due to outdated drivers, and the system controlling the salvage drones was still offline, damaged beyond repair. Aside from that, however, everything appeared to be at least functional. The ship’s hull integrity was good, and the replacement systems were all working. I turned off the readout with a dumb grin plastered to my face.

It was my birthday, and all the guests had come bearing gifts. Speaking of...

I brought up a list of the shipboard systems, looking for new additions. The turrets were there, but were locked to manual. That I could understand. The Bandit didn’t have any targeting suite to speak of, having the turrets auto-acquire would probably lock on to every single ship we passed. Breezing past the turret support systems, I checked on the fixes. The life support system was reporting normal, and the newly installed artificial gravity was fine as well. I smiled, closing the readout for the last time. A fleck of white paper then caught my attention, peeking out from behind an open maintenance panel underneath the pilot’s chair. I plucked it out with my WAND and looked at it. It was a note.

To whom it may concern,
If you ever try fixing your ship with us again, I will personally disassemble this pile of shit and burn the pieces one by one in the burning embers of your very own effigy.
Sincerely,
O’Mare Stationside Refit and Repair

I laughed.

“This is Officer Jess Silvermane requesting docking leave through priority five,” Jess said from the chair. I quieted down while she waited for a response, also tuning into the ship’s C-Band channel.

“We got the word from the office, Jess. You’re good to go,” the tower said.

“Thank you tower,” she replied as she started working the controls. A deep and powerful rumble sounded as the main thrusters came online. Even from the pilot’s cabin the sound was deafening. A few moments later, the thrusters fired, shaking the ship as we started moving forward. Jess took the sudden movement with a practiced calm, guiding us up and around the line of ships headed toward the docking shield. Watching the the ships breeze by felt weird. Less than a month ago, I would have been stuck waiting in the queue sailing by the window. It felt like cheating. I loved it!

A loud ping made me jump, making me look around until it sounded again. I had never flown in the Scrap Bandit while it still had its atmosphere. Beeps assaulted my ears as several of the panels dutifully reported their various functions at the ready. I tracked the ping to a scanner on the control deck. The scanner was identifying the surrounding ships as we passed them, reporting them on the proximity monitor installed near the front.

The door to the cabin opened behind me, the sound of the engines growing significantly louder. I made a mental note to have it fixed later.

“Ugh… I can’t stand it down there!” Nightshade said, the door shutting behind him, “I think I liked this ship better before it made noise.”

“What, can’t stand a little atmosphere?” I chided.

“Not when it makes my ears ring. You try going down there,” he responded.

“We’ve got time, maybe I will!” Tour my ship? Hell yeah!

“Tch,” Nightshade rolled his eyes.

Jess cleared her throat from the chair, giving me an expectant look. Nightshade looked at her and then me, a little confused. I took the hint.

“I…um.” I began lamely, “I’m... sorry, by the way,” I said.

I’d never seen Nightshade surprised before. His eyebrows nearly shot off his face.

“Sorry?” He said, looking shocked. “Has hell frozen over? or did someone slip something into my drink?”

I grunted in annoyance. “I’ve... been a dick. With what we did to get my WAND and the whole cargo ship thing, it kinda freaked me out. So... sorry.”

His expression softened. “You talked?”

“On the way here, yeah.”

“I see.”

“I swear to Luna, if the next word out of your mouth is about a favor I’ll-”

He held up a hoof to silence me and shook his head. “No, no more favors. I’m just glad you’re talking to me again.”

The ship jolted as Jess made a sudden course correction. I looked up in time to see a platform nearly graze the com suite.

“Sorry!” Jess quickly said, flushing red.

We took a final turn leading out of the hangar, and before long we were burning toward the edge of the disruption field. Faintly, I could hear the Sparkle Drive charging, the whine of the drive steadily building over the thrum of the engines. I felt my breakfast churn in anticipation.

“We’re clear,” Jess said. “Let’s get to work.”

The Sparkle Drive activated.

The Unicorn Core Worlds. Halfway between the New Solar Republic and the Pegasus Conglomerate lay the cradle of civilization. History tells about the good ol’ days, back when ponies lived in peace and harmony, but don’t book a trip to Equestria Prime any time soon. The planet has seen better days, what with the boiling oceans and mile-thick glaciers covering its surface. The story of its fall is a legend, if only for the sheer scale of its stupidity. We had to abandon our homeworld, fleeing to the stars to escape destruction. Even now it sits empty, silently mocking us for the catastrophe that claimed it centuries ago. These days, it’s hard to believe we once thrived there.

Despite the loss of our heritage, however, the sector still thrived. Between the burgeoning mining industry, the massive trade sector, and the well-known fact that it hosted the universe’s most prominent corporations, the core worlds were easily the richest of the four empires. Tales of fortunes won and lost in the core were legendary, and for that matter greatly sensationalized. While not as industrious as the Rim Worlds, the Core made up for it in resources. Mineral rich Asteroid belts littered the star systems within the core worlds, providing ample opportunities for corporations to harness their natural resources, as well as serving as a prime source for construction materials.

It was on one of these mining colonies that our target had been recently spotted, a mediocre hacker by the name of Tripwire. According to the Bureau’s information, the buck had fled after a botching a job on a corporate mainframe in the heart of the Core. The rest of the details were lost in the dispatch. All we needed to know was that he was wanted by some group of suits, and that the PBJ had been asked to assist in the matter. That said, the whole situation seemed off to me, and over the seven-and-a-half hour flight to the UCW, my questions on the matter only grew, the largest being, ‘why bother?” Why would a corporation hire a foreign law enforcement agency to catch a two-bit criminal?

When I asked Jess about it, she dismissed it. According to her, it wasn’t the first time the PBJ had been subcontracted to apprehend a criminal. Apparently the practice was commonplace. The sandwich corps had a reputation for getting things done, especially when the local authorities don’t deem the matter worth investigating.

I then asked her if it was normal for a corporation to go to such extreme measures to catch somepony so… ordinary. To this, she merely shrugged and said, “I try not to think about it.”

The question bothered me for the rest of the trip.

The acrid smell of engine exhaust burned in my nose as the three of us disembarked the Scrap Bandit. After my experience on Winter’s edge, it was a smell I was used to.

The colony tower had balked at the idea of letting us in, but the warrant Jess sent them seemed to be proof enough of our business there. After getting our clearance sorted out, we had finally docked between a hauler and a mining barge within the maintenance hangar. We got the ship secured, and then, after a quick briefing in the airlock, we transferred from the hull of the Bandit to the nearby platforms. I jumped first, and learned something painfully interesting. Apparently, gravity worked different on unicorn colonies.

“Ow…” I moaned, having faceplanted into the platform as I unexpectedly entered its gravity field. It was like junior flight camp over again. Groaning, I pushed myself up to a sitting position and rubbed my now aching nose with a hoof, trying futilely to alleviate the throbbing pain radiating through my face.

“That was graceful,” Nightshade remarked with a smirk as he landed next to me. I shot him my best ‘screw you’ look in response as I stood up. Within moments, Jess landed less than a meter behind him, shaking out her mane as she removed her helmet and took a too long whiff of the rank air. Her face wrinkled.

“Ugh… I’ll never understand why these ponies keep air in the hangars,” Jess said, trying to wave away the smell with a hoof. “Don’t they know it’s dangerous?”

“You get used to it,” Nightshade piped in with a shrug. “I know in the EPR they feel it’s a bigger safety hazard to have ponies in a vacuum than it is to simply have a containment field. I think they figure with all the sharp equipment floating around it would be more of a risk to rupture the suit than to blow the whole bay open.”

“Trading liabilities, I guess,” I said uncertainly. The prospect of keeping so much air behind a shiny magic wall just didn’t sit right with me. “I still don’t like it though. It’s a huge risk.”

Nightshade shrugged it off. “Nah, there’s too many failsafes. The fields on most colonies usually have six to eight backups, and even those have failsafes. I’d say there’s a greater danger of the colony’s core exploding than there is of the fields going down.” Nightshade shrugged. “But I’ve seen stranger things happen, so who knows, maybe you’re right?”

“That’s not exactly comforting,” I said as I took another glance around the hangar. I turned to Jess, “So, where are we headed?” I asked.

Jess checked her WAND again, her eyes scanning some invisible document. “Last intel we had placed him in one of the pubs in the entertainment district. We all know what he looks like, so that will help, but at this point that’s all the information we’ve got to go on.”

“That’s it? What happened to the confident brief in the airlock?” I asked incredulously. The bureau had to have given us more information than just a photo and station.

“That information is seven hours old,” Nightshade responded. “Maybe more, we’ll be lucky if the buck is still even here.”

“He should be,” Jess said, “there’s some suspicion that he might be trying to meet with someone for help, but the odds are still pretty good that they haven’t arrived yet.”

I frowned, chewing my lip in thought. “So, what, we’re just going to go bar hopping until we find him?”

“You’ve got a problem with this?” Nightshade replied with a smirk.

I took a moment to think it over. Nope! No problems at all! After all that had happened, a few beers actually sounded pretty good.

“No alcohol, please, we’re here to work,” Jess said flatly.

Spoil sport. I thought.

“Oh, and one other thing. We need the target alive to get paid. So no lethal force, got it?” Jess said, though I could swear it was more directed toward Nightshade than it was toward me.

“Got it” we replied in unison.

We followed the station directories through the claustrophobic hallways between the maintenance hangar and the colony proper, and from there, it was only a short trot to the Entertainment district. Navigation was no problem. Large signs hung from the ceiling at each intersection, offering helpful directions to the major station servies in bold, white letters. It didn’t take a genius to realize that the section marked ‘ENTERTAINMENT’ was probably our best bet. It was even underlined for some reason, though judging by the way the paint was running, that was probably a recent addition.

As we got closer, ponies started filtering in from various other connections into the main corridor, joining our little parade toward the magical land of fun and alcohol. Most of them looked like they just got off work. Slightly disheveled ponies in jumpsuits and working clothes moved along in groups, chatting with their friends with a contagious, candid energy that seemed to spread throughout the groups as we moved along. Before long, the corridor opened, and we all emerged onto the spacious grand plaza that dominated the main floor of the Entertainment district.

The change in atmosphere was overwhelming. Bright, holographic signs lit up the entire floor, illuminating the throngs of shopping ponies while they advertised everything from weapons to the latest albums from PON-3 Entertainment. Commercials blared over the din of the noisy crowds, with some of the more persistent nodes pinging my WAND with inane ads every time I wandered too close. Normally the noise would have driven me crazy, but with the change in atmosphere came a change in headroom. The plaza had a much more comfortable ceiling, extending in a wide spacious dome over the central garden area, where some of the resident pegasi were happily stretching their wings and playing games with a few frisbees and catcher sticks. My eyes lingered on them, my wings twitching needily at the thought of joining them for an impromptu game of aerial lacrosse.

We stopped at a small garden near the center of the plaza which had a good view of the two major concourses branching off from the main room.. I took a long look down one of the massive hallways, admiring the sheer number of outlet stores lining the walls and floors. Like the main floor, the crowds in the concourse were pretty packed. The entire colony could have been out there and I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. If there was one thing unicorns knew how to do right, it was shopping. Sadly, I had more important things to do.

“So how exactly are we supposed to find this buck in the middle of these crowds?” I asked Jess.

“We split up,” she replied as she scanned the crowds of ponies going about their business. “I’ll start searching here in the main plaza. I want the two of you to spread out into the neighboring hallways and report back if you find anything. Check stores, pubs, wherever you think he might be. If you spot him, don’t engage him, just let us know over the radio and we’ll take him together.”

“Right.”

“You got it.”

“Check-ins are every five minutes. Let’s go.”

I took the concourse on the left.

I spent what felt like an hour searching stores, pausing more than once to admire some of the tech shops I walked by while looking. It was hard to refrain from buying something. The shops advertised everything from the latest defense equipment to old, junk and semi-reliable, used hardware. I nearly dropped everything when I spotted one that specialized in WAND programs. The temptation of picking up an ad blocker was burning a mighty hole in my pocket, especially after the jingle for Snowdrop’s Snowcones started playing for the thirtieth time. Unfortunately, my section made little progress. Groups of ponies started blocking the major passageways as they either talked or waited for something else to pass and I found myself getting stuck in the line trying to avoid them. I edged my way around, squeezing inside shops while I tried to orient myself. It was like a maze, a breathing, shifting maze. I tried scanning faces, but it turned out to be pointless. Barely anyone matched the color olive I was looking for, and those few that did didn’t look even remotely similar. I even tried hovering to get a better view, but all that did was get me a swift reprimand by station security and directions back to the plaza for recreational flying. One apology and ‘I’ll-never-to-do-it-again’ later and they let me go. When I returned to my companions, they were in the midst of conversation.

“At least three look-a-likes by my count, but no positives,” Nightshade said, shaking his head. “If he’s smart he could probably just hide in the crowds.”

“Not likely,” Jess replied, tapping the device on her head. “I’ve got a facial recognizer built into my WAND, if he’s out here, I’ll pick him out in no time.”

“Sure, if he’s looking at you.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Jess replied primly, adding a little sway to her hips while she spun for effect. Nightshade just laughed.

“Flirting on the job? Nightshade?” I asked dryly as I walked up beside them.

Both heads turned toward me, one noticeably redder than the other. “We were just discussing what we’ve found,” Nightshade said coolly, “See anything?”

I shook my head. “Nothing, although the ads here are making me want a mute button.” That jingle…

Jess sighed. “Well, we’ve got a few more pubs to cover, after that we’ll have to either dive into the mainframe for leads or start looking at other options.”

Nightshade looked thoughtful. “I dunno,” he said, rubbing his chin, “I think I’ve got a good feeling about these pubs. I don’t think we’ll need to move on just yet.”

Jess looked back at him skeptically. “We’ve been through twelve already. If we end up waiting too long we’re going to lose him.”

“I know, I know, “ Nightshade said, “I’ve just got this hunch that the next one we’ll get lucky.” Nightshade grinned. I shivered.

“Something wrong?” Jess asked me while Nightshade went ahead.

I passed Nightshade’s retreating rump a final glance before saying. “the last time I saw that grin, we ended up shooting our way out of a gang den.”

Jess blinked and frowned. “Noted.”

The last pub we entered was a little more crowded than the others. A fragrant blend of smoker’s lung and alcohol problems hung in the air while we sorted through the various groups of ponies crowding around raised platforms where the dancers were making their rounds.

“Mark, target acquired.” Nightshade said, his voice coming in low over the S-Band. I looked at where he was standing in the corner and followed his gaze to a booth closer to the edge of the floor. Sure enough, there was the target. Tripwire sat by himself in the booth, the olive buck hunched over a drink he had barely touched while passing furtive glances across the floor. I caught the glint of a WAND in his sky-blue mane as he turned his head.

“Confirmed,” Jess said, raising her head so she could see better over the crowd, “Nice work. And nice hunch, too, you do that often?”

“From time to time,” Nightshade replied nonchalantly. “It’s just one of those things, you know?”

Jess shrugged. “Whatever, spread out. We’ll take him from all sides and then we should be home free. Horizon, you approach him from the left along the platforms and- Oh! Dammit!”

“Well, well, well.” A male voice said, loud enough to draw the attention of everypony in the room. The speaker was a light blue pegasus in a low-key military suit. His light brown manecut was parted keenly to the right and shone of what looked like engine grease. Who the buck uses engine grease anymore? “If it isn’t my good friend, Officer Silvermane.” He approached Jess with a wide, cock-sure grin that screamed asshole.

I chanced a glance over at our target. If he was nervous before, he was frozen now. He watched the exchange with rapt attention while rapidly flicking his eyes back over the crowd. I had to look away before he noticed me, and instead focused on Nightshade, who was chewing his lip while watching Jess and what looked like one of her colleagues.

Jess’s eye twitched involuntarily. “What are you doing here Slide?”

“What am I doing here?” Slide asked, pretending to be offended, “I am on assignment, dear Silvermane, what I want to know, is what do you think you are doing here? Little miss bounty hunter.”

I saw movement as Nightshade’s head suddenly turned.

“Trouble, two by the door,” he reported quietly. I looked toward the entrance to see two more pegasus stallions in the same uniform enter from the front of the bar, one smiling darkly while the other worked out a crick in his neck.

“I thought you were supposed to be on ice after that little accident you had with your ship back on Ceres.”

“I found a way to keep working,” she replied evenly, watching Slide with a guarded expression.

“Oh! you mean you friends here?” He said, pointing directly at me. Eyes turned. I felt the weight of several dozen ponies’ gaze fall on me as all conversation in the pub died. I glanced back at the two newcomers. They had definitely taken an interest in me. In fact one of them was heading my way. Buck.

“Make that three… no four,” Nightshade muttered over the radio. A third buck had entered the room by the back door, standing next to a rack large rack of alcohol perched on the bar counter. I couldn’t see number four. Nightshade had a better position than I did. Either way, we were surrounded.

“You see, Ice Queen, I heard about what happened with you and your little cruiser, and frankly, if I had my way you’d be off the force.” Slide said, prodding Jess in the chest. “But I don’t get my way, do I? After all, I don’t have the right connections.”

I started looking for Nightshade. The spot he had occupied before was now vacant, filled instead by a fourth and very confused looking thug in uniform. Glancing back at Jess and Slide, I noticed that Jess seemed to be turning a few shades darker.

“But, low and behold, here you are; daddy’s little filly, away on a ‘secret mission’ off the books. I guess dirt must run in the family.”

“I dare you to say that again,” Jess growled. Slide merely laughed.

“Maybe I will,” he challenged back as he leaned in closer.

A throat cleared next to me. I turned my head to come nose to nose with the last guard.

“Don’t. Try. Anything,” he said with a smug grin.

I didn’t need to.

“Well that was interesting,” Nightshade called out from the behind the bar counter. The thug standing next to it jumped. Nightshade smiled at him and then turned back to his audience. “WHO WANTS MARGARITAS?” Nightshade bucked the alcohol rack. With a loud crack, the rack upended, toppling onto the startled thug with a great crash.

My attention snapped back to the guard at my side, who looked back at me in alarm.

I was faster.

Ducking my head, I checked him with my neck and shoulder, tossing him off balance before spinning and kicking with everything I had. His head snapped backward as I connected with his jaw, smashing his head against a chair and bowling over the table behind him. My victory was short lived. Within moments the buck was back on his hooves and livid as well. He pawed the ground once and then charged, pumping his wings to gain momentum.

I backpedaled, and tripped on a fallen bowl. My wings snapped out to catch my fall, and instead caught a chair. I went down in a heap just as my attacker closed the distance, tackling me in the side with his full weight. I tried to get my bearings through the fresh haze of pain, only to get flung on my back by a boot to the face. The thug reared for the kill, and then took an ashtray square in the face. The pony screamed as he covered his eyes with his forelegs, stumbling backward while trying to the rub the powder out. Spotting a nearby pitcher of water, I grabbed it and smashed it as hard as I could against his head. He slumped to the floor, out cold.

I looked up in time to see Nightshade stomp on the bar counter again, knocking up another ash tray and then bucking it across the room with disturbing precision. He spared me a brief grin before leaping down onto the guard who had just pried himself out from under the smashed alcohol rack.

The rest of bar was pure chaos. The ponies who hadn’t already fled, had joined in the fight, while a scant few others just stood back in shock, unsure of what to do. What bar employees remained, cowered in whatever closed spaces they could find while the battle raged around them. Jess and Slide were grappling on the floor, toppling tables and smashing dinnerware while they snapped at each other. Wings beat the air as they fought for advantage, kicking and biting while they pulverized each other against the furniture.

I felt a breeze on my wings and ducked in time to see a chair swung by a unicorn smash against the head of a beefy earth pony, who shrugged it off and tackled the unicorn behind the bar.

“ARGH! YOU BITCH!” Slide screamed. He had doubled over on the floor curling in on his jewels while Jess pushed herself back on her hooves. Within moments she was on top of another guard.

Then I realized we were forgetting something. My eyes darted back toward the spot where Tripwire had been seated. The booth was empty.

Panicking, I started glancing around for him and two seconds later, I spotted him by the back door. Ever so carefully, the buck was edging toward the back entrance while quietly trying to slip out of the chaos. We locked eyes.

“Hey! He’s getting away!” I called over the radio. Tripwire bolted for the back door. Jess’s head snapped up from where she was wrestling another of Slide’s cronies to the ground.

“Get after him!” she cried, smashing a hoof into the guard’s face. The guard’s head cracked against the floor and he went limp.

I didn’t bother to wait. I shot toward the back entrance and passed Nightshade as he fought with the last guard. Instantly, Jess was next to me.

“Get up you idiots!” Slide roared from the floor, his voice cracking slightly, “Get them!”

Nightshade immediately jumped in their way. “Go! I’ll catch up!” He called out as he pawed the ground, dropping into a ready stance as the first of the thugs charged him.

We crashed out of the back door into the crowded concourse, throwing caution to the wind as we bowled over a group of pedestrians in our haste. Angry shouts followed us, mixed with surprise as a team of station security busted in the front door of the pub we had just left. I glanced back in time to see a guard tackle one of the thugs who had gotten through.

“Jess, we’re gonna be in some serious shit if security gets us.” I called into my radio.

Jess laughed, “Don’t worry! Technically, they’re on our side! Just stay focused on the target and we’ll still get paid.”

The security team started beating up the stallion.

“It’s not getting paid that I’m worried about,” I muttered.

The target turned as he tried to shake us, ducking into one of the corridors leading off of the main concourse. We cut altitude and skidded to a stop as we tried to change course, losing precious seconds as he disappeared around a corner and into a corridor with a ceiling too low to fly in.

“He’s heading for the mag rail!” Jess called, closing the distance at a gallop. I fell just a pace behind her. He was just ahead of us, and galloping hard. Ponies lept out of his way as he tore past, trying not to get caught by our small stampede.

I felt my heart beating inside my chest. I was used to exercise, but only as far as some light flying. As far as running went, I was an amateur at best. I watched Jess’ tail pull farther and farther ahead while my lungs started burning. Gritting my teeth, I charged on, struggling to keep up.

Suddenly, the corridor opened. We exited onto the second floor landing of the Freight hangar. Jess was instantly airborne and closing on Tripwire. In a desperate move, Tripwire turned suddenly and dropped, skidding across the floor as Jess shot past him. I charged ahead, compensated for the sudden change and tackled him.

My aim was off. I hit him just on the top of his withers. We both grunted from the impact and rolled, but he was ready for it. He bucked and I took a boot to the teeth, flinging me up and off him for several feet, my wings splaying out to try and catch my fall. On bounce two, I righted myself, looking up in time to see Jess already back on his feeling tail. I beat hard to catch up.

Jess was nearly on him, by the time he started running out of platform. I watched Jess reach around and pull out her stun rifle, levelling it at the buck as he skidded to a stop near the edge.

“Gotcha,” Jess panted over her radio.

He glanced back at us once, and then jumped.

“Dammit!” Jess called, flapping toward the edge. The second floor landing dropped away as we bolted after him, clearing the edge in time to see the buck land with a roll, knocking over a mother and two fillies in the process, before tearing off for a train just starting to depart.

“Fuck!” Jess growled, drawing an angry reply from the mother behind us.

We arrived just in time to see the doors on the mag rail close and our target waving a booted leg at us from inside, a cocky grin on his face. The train started to accelerate.

“Get on it!” Jess yelled. I jumped and two quick wingbeats later, landed with a thud on the top of one of the rear cars skidding as my boots scrabbled for purchase. Thinking fast, I activated the magnets and felt a painful jolt as my boots locked to the surface. I recovered in time to see the forcefield we were rapidly approaching.

“Helms!” I shouted. Ripping my helmet from my pack with my WAND, I smashed it onto my head, hearing a telltale click just before we passed the barrier. A ripple of energy passed through my body and then suddenly there was silence.

I plopped my flank to the deck for a moment, just to catch my breath.

“Fuckin a…” I said, taking a heaving gulp of my suit’s reserve air.

“You’re telling me,” Jess panted over the S-Band. I glanced back to see her standing on the car behind mine, her head lolling in zero g.

“I made it out. Where are you guys?” Nightshade called over the radio.

“Outside,” Jess responded, “The target boarded the freight rail between stations, we’re on the same one but he’s probably a few cars ahead of us.”

The silence lasted only for a moment as the signal weakened.

“Shit. Alright, I’ll see what I can do to monitor your progress from here then. Good luck out there.“

“Thanks… I guess,” I said, panting. “What now, Jess?”

I heard her swallow over the radio. “We need to get inside the train,” she said, finally getting some control over her breathing, “Maybe take him from both sides and work toward the center.”

I nodded, “I guess that makes sense. Which end do you want?”

“I’ll take the front and work my way back.” Jess said, “You start back here and move forward. We’ll meet somewhere in the middle.”

Jess trotted awkwardly past me, bouncing slightly with each step as she pulled herself across the hull of the train. I looked back a few more cars, noting how much closer to the end I was.

“What do I do if I see him?” I asked.

“Report contact and keep him busy until I can get into position. Sound good?” Jess replied.

I nodded. “Alright.” We went our separate ways. I started working my way to the end car while Jess headed toward the front. I felt a brief sense of deja vu, before pulling myself down on to the back platform of the rear car.

“Hopefully this goes better than the damn cargo ship.” I muttered.

I peered in through the window of the rear car.

Empty. Well that was a start. I keyed the door control and braced to the side of the doorway in case it blew out. A forcefield suddenly appeared around the platform, and with a burst of air, the door slid open. I lurched as gravity reasserted itself.

I looked at the forcefield and shook my head. “magic,” I scoffed. Glancing around the doorframe and satisfied that it was still empty, I pushed my way inside.

The rear passenger car was empty, as were the next two I passed through. More shuttle than train car, each car I passed was filled only with metal seats, and the occasional curious passenger. So far, Tripwire was nowhere to be seen.

“Jess, you still with me?” I called over the S-Band.

“Yeah, what’s up?” She replied.

“I’m a few cars in and I still haven’t found our friend yet.” One of the passengers looked up at me warily from a few seats up. Maybe it was the way I had been searching the previous car, or the fact that I still had my helmet on, but whatever it was, some kind of understanding seemed to dawn on him as he watched me. Very slowly, he curled up in his seat, making himself smaller.

I glanced at him feeling a pang of guilt. I knew what I looked like, standing in the hallway in full flight gear. The other passenger in the car seemed to take his cue, and shrunk back against the wall as I passed.

“That’s fine, just keep searching. I just reached the front car myself. If you see him try and keep his attention.”

“Right.”

A light blue pegasus next to me cleared her throat in frightened tones. “Um… excuse me? Sir?”

I turned my head to look at her. Even I could see the fear in her eyes.

“Yes?” I said over speaker as gently as possible. She flinched at the canned sound of my voice, though the slight signal distortion probably didn’t help any.

“Are you hear about the other stallion?” she asked gingerly.

“Let me guess, olive buck? Earth Pony?”

She nodded and then pointed to the door to the next car. “He’s in there.”

I glanced through the small window and into the next car. Sure enough, there he was. Tripwire stood near the front of the next car, partially obscured by the chairs inside. The passengers inside looked terrified.

I looked back at the blue mare. “Thanks.”

“Go get him.” She said, giving me a wisp of a smile. I nodded my thanks before turning my attention back to the window.

“Contact.” I said.

“Good! I’m four cars in, keep his attention until I can get into position,” Jess ordered.

I swallowed. “You got it.”

I flattened myself against the next door, peering into the next car and the passengers within. The olive buck was still standing, head on a swivel while the passengers cowered inside.

Why were they so scared?

Against my better judgement, I pushed in.

As the door opened, the olive stallion’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto me as he raised his leg. I caught a glint of metal before diving for cover.

“JESS! HE’S GOT A GUN!” I cried as I ducked behind one of the metal seats. Two energy bolts scored the wall behind me as the buck fired, drawing screams from the other occupants of the car.

“Shit! Okay! I’m on my way! Just hang in there!” Jess replied over the S-Band.

I looked to the side and caught Tripwire’s reflection as he carefully backed into the aisle, pistol at the ready. I needed a weapon, and fast.

I tore through my suit storage, looking for something, anything, that might help.

Oh, hello…

I pulled out Fritter’s energy pistol with my WAND -- Well…my pistol, technically speaking. I was about to lean around and take a shot, until I had to check myself.

We needed him alive. It wouldn’t do me any good if I got killed, but then it wouldn’t do us any good if he ended up dead either. He was armed, and we needed him alive. Cursing, I set the pistol’s selector to stun. Peaking over the top of the chair, I quickly ducked back down as he fired again. The backside of the chair glowed red as the bolt hit. More screams followed; one of the passengers started crying.

I was stuck. There were other ponies in the car with me, and I couldn’t see around the chair to get a clear shot. If I tried to shoot blind, I’d risk hitting one of them. Thinking quickly, I started looking for alternatives. My eyes settled on a flat red box on the ceiling.

“Thank Luna,” I muttered and shot the fire control sensor.

A klaxon blared as the fire suppression system activated, pumping a thick cloud of suppressants into the air. I heard Tripwire swear, glancing back into the window’s reflection, I saw the buck coughing and backing toward the next car. I took the chance to lean around and fire.

I missed, twice. By shot three he was sprinting halfway through the next car. I cursed, advancing, and then paused to look at the other passengers.

The other passengers looked at me with wide eyes, some still coughing in the clearing smog.

“Get out of here! It’s safe in the back!” I called out to the passengers. They split with all speed. I continued forward.

By the next car, I had lost sight of him. I levitated my gun at the ready in front of my head, carefully advancing down the tight corridor but ready to drop into a row of chairs at any sudden movement. Frightened passengers shrunk away from me as I carefully made my way forward, fearful of the gun I held in the air next to me as I moved along. Eyes on swivels, I scanned the seats. Two ponies. Three. Faces looked up at me in terror and then quickly away.

“Tripwire!” I called out, looking around. “Look it doesn’t have to be this way, just come back with us and we can sort this all out!”

I spotted movement in the next car. Our eyes locked again and I darted forward. Taking cover by the doorframe while peeking in.

His flight had bought him some time, enough time to wiggle into one of the emergency space suits by the exit of the next car. He had just finished donning the helmet when I entered the car he was in. Quickly sliding behind a nearby trashcan, I ducked in time to dodge another blast from his pistol as he took up a new defensive position.

I did my best not to panic, breathing steadily to try to keep my nerves in check. Buy time, I reminded myself.

“Just relax, Tripwire.” I called from behind my hiding place, hoping using his name would help matters. Though with his helmet on, I really couldn’t tell what effect it was having at this point. “All we want to do is talk.”

“Bullshit! You’re working for those murderers you corporate shithead!” Two more bolts impacted my trashcan to accentuate his point.

“What? No. Look buddy, I’m just here because you went poking where you shouldn’t have.” I called back, still hiding behind the can, “Just give it up and I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out.”

I risked a quick glance over the edge of a seat, spotting Tripwire standing by the exit behind a row of chairs. The pistol he was using was strapped to his leg as he scanning the room in tandem with his eyes.

“Fuck you!” I ducked again in time for an energy bolt to sail just over my head.

“Have it your way!” I levitated my pistol and started firing over the seat blindly. I watched his reflection in one of the windows. From where I was sitting his position looked pretty bad. He had pinned himself between two chairs near the exit, and yet even there it looked like his cover was limited. He knew it too. The moment I stopped firing to let my pistol cool, he was off through the door to the next car. Cursing, I charged after him. Ducking, firing, moving between chairs, I didn’t need to hit him, I just needed to keep him distracted; or at least that’s what I kept telling myself. My aim sucked, but the pressure seemed to be working. Slowly but surely, I was pushing him back.

“Horizon!” Jess called over the radio. “I’m almost there! Keep him occupied just a little longer!”

“I’m working on it!” I called back, flinching as another bolt nearly grazed me. I leaned around the corner and returned fire, scoring the doorframe to the next car as he darted behind it. I grunted in irritation before sidling in after him.

The first thing I noticed about the new car was a distinct lack of chairs. A heavy maintenance cart sat square in the middle of the room surrounded by various other mining tools. Tripwire had just taken up a defensive position behind a girder in the corner. I’d pushed him into a utility car; We had to be close to the front by now.

Nightshade’s voice crackled over the radio, “Hey not to worry you or anything, but your officer buddy just left the hangar. I think he might be following you.”

I edged away from my hiding spot behind the maintenance cart only have a bolt of energy whiz by my head. I shrank back into my spot, cursing my poor choice of cover.

“Track him!” Jess called back, “If I know anything about that asshole, it’s that he’s going to cause trouble.”

“Way ahead of you,” Nightshade called back.

“Horizon, where are you?” Jess called

“In a utility car, just past the passenger section. I think I’m near the front, but I’m pinned down” I took a blind shot to keep him in place. “We’re in a bit of a stalemate, but I think he has the upper hoof for now.”

“Perfect. If I’m right I then I should- yes! I can see you. Where is he in the car?”

I risked another glance over the cart and saw Jess’ helm through the window to the next car. Tripwire was still tucked into his corner, tracking my position with his weapon. He couldn’t see her.

“To the left, just through the door. Hiding behind the girder.”

“Okay, say when.” Jess replied.

I stopped shooting, trying to pull as much of me out of harms way as I could. In the ensuing silence, Tripwire carefully edged his way out of hiding. I heard the clop of his boots on the ground and carefully peered around. His back was turned to the door.

“Now!” I yelled.

Rear door opened. Tripwire spun in place, raising his gun leg only to have it swatted away by Jess as she tackled him. The two of them dropped to the floor. But Jess’s attack was off. She struggled hard to pin the pony bumping and kicking under. I left cover, taking a strong stance over them and tracking my weapon uncertainly between the two. Jess was in my way, and they were moving too fast and too close for me to get a good shot. Tripwire snarled, trying to get the pistol on his leg to bear on Jess while Jess did her best to restrain the stronger Earth Pony.

“Uh guys?” Nightshade sounded worried.

“Kinda busy, Nightshade,” I said testily.

“Your police friend just powered weapons.”

“WHAT?” Jess and I yelled. Jess hesitated. A hoof to the face and she recoiled, followed by an awkward buck to her chest that sent her flying against the wall. As Tripwire rolled to his hooves he rounded on Jess, a smirk crossing his face. A blur of motion drew my eye to the window.

“Surprise!” Slide yelled, broadcasting over all channels. The mass of a police cruiser popped into view, casting an intense multicolored hue over the car as a ball of light formed in its belly gun.

“Get down!” I screamed. I ducked down behind the nearest object I could find, shielding my head. There was a flash of light, and then one hell of an impact. I could barely hear somepony scream over the sound of the following explosion.

The whiplash was immediate. I felt myself pulled in a direction that qualified as wrong as my helmet smashed against the girder I had jumped behind. Gravity failed next. An impact hit the air so hard I felt my body rattle. Legs beating furiously, I clumsily grabbed onto the nearest thing I could find and held on for dear life as the side of the car exploded.

Half blind and mostly deaf, I hung in space for a moment until I finally realized I was still holding on to the girder. My head throbbed, as my senses cleared and I recognized the crackle of the radio.

“That’s what you get for chasing my target! Bitch!” Slide laughed. Dizzy, I blinked, struggling to orient myself. The world outside was doing a slow tumble, rolling awkwardly from the force of the impact.

“You horsefucker!” Jess screamed over the radio. I spotted her at the opposite end of the blasted car, pinned behind a piece of collapsed wall, but alive.

Slide laughed as his shield absorbed a blast from a station defense turret. “Whoops! Looks like that’s my cue to leave! Good luck explaining all this to the boss at home, Ice Queen. I’m pinning this on you.”

“You fucking bastard!”

“Bye Now! HA! HA! HA-!” With a blinding flash, Slide’s police ship disappeared, several rounds from the defense turrets zipping through the sparkling afterglow.

“Dammit!” Jess screamed, slamming a hoof against the deck. I could hear her heaving breaths over the radio.

Pulling myself out of my stupor, pulled myself onto a floating piece of deck, and lifted my head around the still glowing wreckage.

The center of the car had been completely destroyed. What hadn’t blown out from the explosion or disintegrated in the turrets cone of fire spun wildly in space, pieces floating off into oblivion through one of the two massive holes blown through the sides of the car. My everything felt warm, no doubt left over from the energy discharge that had nearly fried the entire car. Just out of the line of fire, Tripwire hung limp in space, his body blackened and spewing massive blobs of blood from the gaping tears in his outfit. Twitching spastically, Tripwire’s body rotated. His dying eyes stared into mine, the frightened look on his face fading into a weak smile as he silently fell into the embrace of death.

I just stared, unable to come to process what I had just witnessed.

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” Jess called over the S-Band, prying herself out from some of the car’s wreckage. She saw Tripwire. “Oh, fuck me with the moon!”

Static blared as a Nightshade’s panicked voice rejoined the conversation, “I saw that from the fucking station! Are you two okay in there?”

I couldn’t say anything, still transfixed on the dead body floating in front of me.

Jess replied for me, “Yeah… we’re okay. Shaken, but okay. Tripwire is dead.”

“Damn. Well, at least you’re okay. The emergency response team is on its way now. I suggest you guys find someplace to tuck in while this whole thing blows over.”

“Not possible,” Jess muttered dejectedly, “The exits sealed in the explosion. We’re stuck in here until they arrive. Ugh… how am I going to explain this to the boss?” Jess moaned, cradling her helmet in her forelegs.

Shaking terribly, I tucked myself back into space behind the girder, intent to simply wait for whatever was going to happen next. For what it was worth, I didn’t want to move. I was struggling not to be sick. Considering what had just happened I was remarkably calm about the whole thing. With some dread I thought that maybe I was getting used to this sort of thing. A shiver went through my body. Mentally, I crossed out bounty hunter on my list of possible occupations.

Jess looked out through the breach. “Looks like our ride is here.” Sure enough, the dark compartment started flashing as the emergency responders came running.

It took me several minutes of waiting before I finally noticed the small notification blinking in my WAND.

File Received.

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Author's Note

I'm posting this before I think better of it. No excuses. I'm also pinkie promising myself to never write something so goddamn long again. Anyway, here's the latest chapter for you.

12 - Chapter Twelve: Home Again

Chapter Twelve

Home Again

“Spare no expense! Search every corner of the galaxy! Let no mare or stallion rest until we find them! For we must find them! For Equestria! For the Empire! For our Princesses!”
S.T.A.R.S. Established by Captain Gleaming Shield - 3333 E.C.

It had been four hours since the train. Four hours filled with needles, doctors, and one especially irate security officer. After spending what felt like an eternity with the station police chief, we were begrudgingly released back into the wild. Jess had produced a warrant, which ended up delaying us even longer as the security chief verified it, before coming back with a scowl that could curdle milk and an attitude to match. I had fully expected to be spending more quality time in a jail cell after what had happened, but, true to Jess’ word, the PBJ still had some influence in the Core. She had tried to explain it to me afterward, some legal jargon about limited operational freedom and extended jurisdiction. I didn’t get it. Whatever it was, it made the chief look like we had taken a huge piss in his oatmeal.

The remainder of our time was spent in medical, getting stuffed with more needles than I care to remember. The security chief had gleefully insisted that we undergo a complete medical checkup before release. I don't think I have ever felt more sore in the flank than after that fiasco. I lost count after the nurse stabbed needle twenty into a nerve in my right thigh. She was smiling afterward. I'm pretty sure she did it on purpose.

Hooves dragging and backsides perforated, we all decided it was best to call it a day and head home—not that we really had a choice in the matter. After starting a fight in a bar, chasing a wanted fugitive through the colony, and then subsequently destroying a valuable piece of station infrastructure, the security chief kindly asked us to leave, permanently, and with all due haste. I was more than happy to oblige him; the needles were large.

Business came first, however. On our way back to the Bandit, Jess had us stop at a small plaza with an M-Net terminal, intent on beating Slide to the punch in giving her report. While she was busy making her call, I sat with Nightshade on a park bench nearby, looking over the contents of the file I had picked up on the train. My WAND glowed steadily as it projected a readout floating in the air between us while we both frowned at what we were seeing. The file was a garbled mess: letters, numbers, symbols, for all I could tell we were staring at somepony else’s nap on a keyboard.

“So, what do you think it is?” I asked Nightshade as I slowly scrolled through the document a second time.

Nightshade squinted as he scanned through the code line by line, sounding out some of the characters and muttering under his breath. Eventually, he shook his head. “Beats me,” he said with a long, weary breath. “Whatever this is, it looks like somepony encrypted it. Unless you’ve got some good hacking tools, it’s probably useless.”

“Damn,” I said. I had been hoping for something useful. I still had that small niggling question in mind about why we had been chasing Tripwire, and I was relatively certain this was the reason.

Nightshade tilted his head as he contemplated, biting his cheek. “Well... maybe not.”

“No?”

“Actually...” Nightshade trailed off, tapping a hoof on his chin before his grin came back in full force. “Yeah! I think Fritter might be able to read this!”

I blinked. “Fritter? Really?”

“Yeah, he’s an info broker,” Nightshade said, as if that explained everything. At my flat stare he continued, “you don’t get anywhere in the business if you can’t deal with a little encryption,” he explained as his grin dialed down toward tolerable. “I’m pretty sure he’s got some of the tools we’ll need and, at the very least, he should be able to tell us a bit more about it—and maybe if it’s worth something.”

I felt my smile come back. That sounded like progress.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN I’M BEING SUSPENDED?” Jess screamed.

And that didn’t. My smile died a cold, miserable death.

Jess’ shouting drew nervous looks from nearly everypony within hearing range as she gestured angrily at the stallion on the other end. We were sitting just close enough to faintly hear the other side of the conversation.

“I’m sorry Jess, but that’s just the way it has to be!” The stallion said, now audible over the sudden quiet that enveloped the plaza. The voice sounded familiar but I couldn’t immediately place it. “I can’t let you go running around destroying things and endangering the PBJ’s agreement!”

“But I didn’t destroy anything!” Jess exclaimed, “That was Slide’s fault! He’s the one who shot the train with the cruiser! You should be suspending him! Not me!”

“And I believe you pumpkin, but you can’t-”

“Don’t call me that!” Jess cut him off.

He ignored her, instead taking the initiative, “You have to think about how this looks! Jess!”

“Looks! Looks!” Jess spat, slamming a hoof on the console, “It’s always looks with you! What about doing what’s right? That’s what we stand for isn’t it?”

“Yes, we do, but-”

“Then why are you trying to can me for Slide’s-”

“I’m not trying to fire you!”

"Then why-"

“Enough! Jess!” the stallion shouted, “I am placing you on administrative leave. End of discussion. That station chief you so admirably pissed off wants blood and I’m not willing to endanger our contracts simply because you can’t keep a lid on your temper.”

“So what, you’re gonna believe the pony who opened fire on a undefended train and blame the victim?” Jess yelled.

“No! I’m placing you on leave because you started a bar fight and made a disgraceful display of the PBJ in public! The fact that the train was destroyed only makes things worse!” the stallion yelled back.

“I didn’t start that fight!” Jess shouted back.

Who did? I could vaguely remember something about margaritas...

I glanced over at Nightshade who was suddenly fascinated by the flora in the planter next to us. A moment later I was too. The planter had a sign over it saying ‘please don’t eat the decor’. The flowers were stems.

“I don’t care who started it!” the stallion roared. “Slide will be dealt with once he returns. You are suspended. I don’t want you taking any more jobs until this entire situation is amicably resolved.”

“And how long is that going to take?” Jess shouted incredulously.

“As long as necessary,” The stallion coldly replied. “In the meantime why don’t you and your new friends try finding that police cruiser you went and lost.”

Jess stiffened, hardening her frosty glare on the terminal.

The stallion continued, satisfied with his aim, “I want you in my office tonight. We’ll discuss the details of your suspension then, is that clear?”

Jess grimaced. “Yes. Sir.”

“Good. Now get back here before you create another incident.” There was a loud clack and then the screen flashed to black. I could hear Jess’ teeth grind in the ensuing silence. Grumbling, she turned from the terminal and started storming back toward us with a sour look on her face.

“Ooh, that didn’t sound good,” Nightshade muttered, cautiously eyeing the storm cloud rapidly forming above her—Pegasus magic is weird like that.

“Sounds like my luck just rubbed off,” I said back to him, bracing for the oncoming storm.

“The Horizon effect,” Nightshade snorted, “I’m sure some researcher would have a field day with that one.”

I smirked. “Probability of disaster approaches one as proximity increases,” I replied evenly.

Nightshade looked at me with surprise. “I never took you for a math pony.”

“I’m not,” I said.

“Then how?” Nightshade trailed off, arching an eyebrow.

“Let’s just say the piloting exam was very comprehensive,” I said. His mouth formed an ‘o’.

“Ugh… I can’t believe him!” Jess groused.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“That was my boss, the Chief of police and also head of the PBJ’s hunter corps,” Jess replied sourly, her wings shuffling irritably.

So that’s where I had heard that voice before! Although, admittedly, not quite that angry.

“Pumpkin?” Nightshade inquired.

Jess groaned, covering her face with a hoof. “It’s… complicated. Can we just go? The sooner I get back to the office, the better. What’s that?” She pointed.

I realized that I was still projecting the file. I flipped it around so she could read it. Judging by the confused look on her face, she didn’t understand it either. “I picked it up on the train," I explained, "I think it came off Tripwire."

Jess wearily cradled her head with her hoof. “Great… more paperwork.”

“It looks encrypted, but we think a friend of ours would be able to crack it."

She passed me a measuring look before looking back at the readout and thinking for a moment. “You know, I might just let you do that,” she said.

“You’re okay with that? Isn’t it supposed to be, like, evidence or something?” I replied.

Jess blew a raspberry. “Nope! I don’t care anymore! I just got suspended! If the boss wants it so bad then he can buy it from your friend for all I care. After all this shit, I’m willing to indulge a little karma.”

I smiled as I turned off the projection. We might be getting paid after all.

*****

The Bandit was quiet when we returned. After making sure the airlock was still sealed and powering on the engines, Jess got right to work. We got our clearance and throttled up with a low rumble as we powered out, overtaking another mining barge in the process. I sat on the floor of the pilot’s cabin, contenting myself to doing a diagnostic of the shipboard systems while we prepared to jump. Three minutes in, I blinked.

“What?” I muttered under my breath, staring at the readout I was getting.

“Something wrong?” Jess asked, glancing over in my direction.

“Several somethings,” I said with a frown, “I’m running a diagnostic on the shipboard systems.”

Jess’ hoof froze over the console, right over the spot where I would normally power up the Sparkle Drive.

“All systems green,” I assured her, “it just looks like there are a few more greens than I remember. Somepony calibrated the Sparkle Drive.” It was true, among a small number of other things, the Sparkle drive was running at more power than I thought equinely possible. Several of the other less critical systems were reporting small fixes as well, most notably, the drone controller, which had gone from ‘offline’ to ‘needs maintenance’.

Jess relaxed. “Maintenance probably mistook your ship for one of the work crews,” she said, activating the charger for the Sparkle Drive. In the background I could hear a high pitched whine as the drive came to life. “Given the… interesting design of this ship it wouldn’t surprise me if one of them thought it was a wreck.”

I groaned. Times I’ve heard that joke, plus one. “Whatever, I’m going to go check on it and see if anything else broke in the meantime.” I said.

“Don’t hit your head on the way out,” Jess replied, returning to the controls with a smug grin. I rolled my eyes in response, and then activated the door control. The door slid neatly open.

I will never get used to that. I thought, taking a proud breath and smiling at the doorway before sauntering back into the corridor. As the door closed, I was greeted by relative calm. The thrum of the engines rumbled contentedly in the background over the building whine of the Sparkle Drive. The sound gave me pause. Odd, I could have sworn the ship had been louder than this—deafening, in fact.

“Oh no! Oh nononono! No! No! No! No! No!”

It didn’t make that noise either.

I heard a frightened yelp as a sky blue unicorn shot out of the ladderwell leading to down the engineering level, followed by a very entertained Nightshade. As the unicorn whirled around, she spotted me and panicked, scrambling backward until she bumped into the airlock, passing fearful glances between the two of us while attempting to hide behind her mane.

“We seem to have a passenger,” Nightshade remarked.

Passenger. Station. No return. Eyes widening, I bolted for the cabin door, slamming a hoof on the door control and shouting, “Jess! Stop the-”

Blinding light followed a lurching sensation as the Sparkle Drive activated. A momentary sensation of light-headedness washed over me as we all passed through a certain somewhere and reappeared light years from our original position.

“-ship,” I finished lamely.

“What? What’s wrong?” Jess said, leaning sideways around the chair. Her eyes glazed over me and froze on the sky blue unicorn, who was now accompanied by an amused Nightshade. “Oh, piss.”

We had at least an hour before the Sparkle Drive could jump us back, and the security chief had made it very clear what would happen if we tried. Visions of glowing shrapnel danced in my head as I imagined the station defense turrets blasting apart our hull. And now we had a passenger, probably by pure accident. I groaned. Intentional or not, we had just abducted a citizen of the UCW.

“I’m sorry!” The sky blue unicorn nearly shouted, prostrating herself before us, her eyes squeezed shut while protecting her head with her forelegs. I had to fight to keep my irritation from showing as I looked her over. She looked like a mechanic. She was wearing an ugly green utility barding with a topaz WAND around her neck and had grease smeared in places where she tried to wipe her face with her sleeve. More grease marks marred her face underneath a chocolate and mint striped mane that flowed down in front of her face and parted to the side, framing the large, round glasses that sat on the bridge of her nose.

Her next words came in unfiltered panic,
“I'msorryI'msorryIthoughtthiswasoneoftheminingshipsandIthoughttomyselfhuhIdon’trememberseeingthisoneonthelisttodaybutthenIsaw-"

I felt myself frown, unable to keep up with her. “Hey… uh-” I said, tentatively reaching out with a foreleg.

“baditwasinandIcouldnthelpmyselfsoIsaidIlljustfixituprealquickbutthenrealquickturnedintoareallyreallylongtimeandthen-”

I looked at Nightshade who merely shrugged in response. Jess had entered the corridor as well, coming in to see what the commotion was about. She glanced over at the mare with a look that was one part confusion, two parts humor.

“Ilosttrackoftimecausetherewassomuchtofixandohpleeheeheeasedontkillm-”

“Stop!” I shouted, loud enough to get her attention. It didn’t help. She shrank even further into her corner with a squeak, looking up at me with frightened, wide eyes, which were suddenly getting wider for some reason. Green, her eyes were green, just like the stripes in her mane, if a little more rich in color. Focus! Horizon!

The unicorn’s mouth worked for a moment as her brain visibly restarted. “I-I-I mean... um, hi?” she said, sitting up and straightening her disheveled glasses with an awkward smile.

Nightshade snorted, hiding his muzzle in the crook of his foreleg.

“Let’s start over,” I said, taking advantage of the sudden silence. I tried to give her the gentlest, most natural smile I could manage. It was probably even more terrifying. “My name is Horizon Seldat. Who are you?”

She seemed to mouth the last word in my name before her brain caught up with what I had asked her. “T-Tick-Tickintime,” she stuttered. She took a moment to regain her confidence and cleared her throat. “I-I’m one of the station mechanics, sorta. I was doing some repairs on the ship and I… guess I sorta lost track of time.” Her cheeks pinked as her grimace grew ever more uncomfortable. “Please don’t hurt me?” she mumbled, her ears bending downward.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” I said evenly. She relaxed. “Why were you doing repairs? I don’t recall putting in a request for them.”

“I’m sorry,” she sighed, “I thought it looked like one of the mining ships that normally came through the colony, so I thought I would get a head start on repairs before one of the other teams could… ruin it.” A little spite leaked into the end of her sentence. “I should have double-checked the roster before I got started. I’m sorry.” She bowed her head low to the deck.

I started counting the number of times she had apologized. Was it three? four? Shrugging off the thought, I responded, “Not a problem. The ship is a salvager so I can understand the confusion,” I explained.

“Oh! So that’s why you have a drone bay!” she said, perking up at the revelation, “Although for drones they didn’t look like they were in very good shape. They were all damaged, like somepony had taken shots at them or something. You haven’t been trying to do anything dangerous with them have you?”

“Uh… define dangerous,” I said cautiously.

She was silent for nearly four seconds as a dark, discerning look crossed her face. “Why did I find carbon scoring in the engine room?”

“It’s a long story,” I chuckled.

“One that involves two cruisers and a battleship,” Nightshade offered.

Tickintime’s face darkened further, one eye twitching dangerously. “What?”

“The repair shop nearly junked the thing from what I heard. The damage was really bad,” Jess chimed in. She smiled at me, you know, that smile, the one normally associated with a species of dangerous predators.

“What?” Tickintime said louder.

Oh dear…

“How dare you!” The unicorn roared, stomping her way toward me. “How could you do that to such a beautiful machine!”

“H-Hey! Hold on a sec!” I blanched, backpedaling away from her until I hit the corridor wall. Did she just call the Bandit ‘beautiful?’ I suddenly thought, frowning.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

My attention snapped to where it belonged: the purpling face of undiluted rage uncomfortably close to my person “W-whu-” I choked.

“You!” She jammed a hoof hard into my chest nearly winding me, and repeated the action with every word. “You. Are. Awful!”

“What?” I said.

“You took a salvage barge into combat?” I leaned back, trying to put as much distance as I could between myself and the madmare. Sadly, I had run out of space to retreat to, bumping my head against the bulkhead. “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?”

I looked to Nightshade for help. All he did was smile. Jess was nowhere to be seen, but judging by the laughter coming from behind the door to the pilot cabin, I had a pretty good idea where she’d run off to.

Jaw tightening, I felt a wash of old emotions start to crop up. “Like I had a choice!” I roared back at her, “I didn’t choose to get shot at by a fucking warship! Hell! We didn’t even have fucking weapons!”

She matched me, tone for tone, louder and angrier than before, “Then why did you even go there in the first place?” she yelled back.

“Because I was hired to!”

“That’s still no excuse for all the damage to the systems! You are neglecting your ship!”

“Hey! For your information, Miss, I didn’t even own this ship until yesterday!”

“Oh! So you stole it? That makes it sooo much better!”

“I didn’t steal it!” Well, actually, “I mean, ugh. It’s mine now and I was going to get it fixed! Wait, no, I did get it fixed!”

“You call this fixed?” She said, gesturing to the ship in disgust. “I’ve seen better work in a junkyard!”

“Well that’s hilarious because that’s where it was built!” I shot back.

“Maybe it’s time you two calmed down,” Nightshade interjected.

“Shut up!” we said in unison. Nightshade started laughing again.

It was enough to blow off some of the steam. I grumbled for a moment before saying, “Look. I didn’t ask for this. Okay? If I had my way I’d leave all this,” I gestured to everything, “behind and do trade runs in the PC.”

“So what’s stopping you? Did you blow up somepony else’s ship instead?”

This was getting old, fast. “No! I had my license suspended because somepony framed me for murder and then I got away with barely even my tail!”

“Wait, what?” The unicorn’s rage broke, replaced by confusion.

“You heard me, I was framed for murder,” I said again. “I don’t know if you’re familiar with how things go in the PC, but that’s a death penalty from where I’m from. And since it was my boss that ate it, it wouldn’t take a genius to think that I might have done it.”

“But that’s…”

“This ship? It belonged to my boss. I was his pilot before everything went to hell, and when I found him dead in the office one morning I had to get the fuck out before the cops showed up and baked me.”

She was just staring at this point, mouth agape. I took it as permission to continue.

“I don’t care what you think I was responsible for doing to this ship. Before my life exploded—you know that thing I do to everything?—I had control. Sure, I was a cog; I was a damn good cog, actually. Hell, maybe I even liked it. But that’s not important, because that was all before my life turned into a living nightmare.”

The door to the pilot’s cabin as Jess reentered the corridor, much more composed than when she’d left it. Nightshade was recovering as well, fading back into his usual, smug grin.

“Now, I have no control. I’ve been going along with whatever plan ponies could come up with because frankly I either: ‘A’, didn’t have a choice; or ‘B’, didn’t have any better ideas.

“So before you jump on my ship. Get in my face! And try to tell me what I should do with my life! Understand that maybe, just maybe, I DON’T GIVE A FUCK!”

I felt a hoof on my withers. I glanced back to see Jess give me a disapproving look and nod her head toward the unicorn, who was now sitting on her haunches with tears in her eyes. The unicorn stared at me, mute, her mouth working soundlessly as she fought for words.

Her head sank, “I… I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I-I didn’t-”

I huffed. “I know, and I’m sorry for blowing up at you.” I paused for a moment as I remembered why we were there in the first place. “Although, you being here does pose a bit of a problem.”

“Why is that?” Tickintime asked, looking up at me warily.

I looked at Jess, who was suddenly interested a blank section of the corridor paneling.

“Before we took off, Jess and I,” I indicated the white and silver pegasus standing next to me, “were hunting a thief.”

“And me,” Nightshade added.

“And Nightshade,” I conceded.

“You’re a bounty hunter?” she asked incredulously.

“Well, not any more I hope,” I said glancing at Jess. Jess was intensely interested in that blank section of corridor paneling. “She’s an officer of the PBJ, I was just tagging along because… oh, nevermind. The important part is that we got in trouble with the colony and they kind of… kicked us out.”

Tickintime’s eye twitched again. “What. Did. You. Do?”

“We didn’t do anything,” I explained hastily, “But... one of Jess’ uh, let’s say, coworkers, might have blown up a train. That we were on. Like, in the same car.”

She choked, her eyes bulging. “What?” she said breathlessly.

“Yeah, we kinda… can’t take you back.”

“So that’s why your flight suit looks blackened…”

Blackened? Oh! Huh, didn’t notice that. Sure enough, my flight suit looked a little crispier than I remembered it. Wow, that really was a close call! At least I was still breathing.

“We’re heading back to L6-C in the Pegasus Cluster, you might be able to catch a shuttle there back to your home, but as far we go, if we show up there again, we’re scrap.”

Tickintime braced her head in her hooves and groaned. “Just what I need.”

“Horizon effect,” Nightshade echoed with a smile. I shot him my dirtiest look.

“I’m sorry if this little accident has caused you trouble.”

“No, it’s okay,” the unicorn sighed. “It’s my fault anyway.”

My wing twitched. “Well not entirely, we should have checked for passengers before we took off.”

Tickintime shook her head. “You had no reason to. No. I’ve decided,” she announced. “I’m going to make this up to you.”

My thought process ground to a halt. Huh?

“I… said some things I shouldn’t have, and in order to make it up to you, I’m going to fix your ship.” She smiled genuinely.

I arched an eyebrow, staring for a few solid seconds. “Do you have any idea what exactly you’re promising?”

“Yes,” she simply said. “I already did some repairs, and once I start a job I always finish it. Notice the noise level?” The noise of the engines was a steady, healthy thrum. The entire ship seemed to be silent compared to what it had been before. My eyes widened as the realization hit.

“I’m guessing some of the previous damage you took cracked the plating in the acoustic dampeners for your main thrusters. That’s why you had that noise problem. I patched it up real quick with a welding spell and it took care of most of the problem. The rest of it was the miscalibration in the Sparkle Drive and breaches in some of the other systems.”

“You fixed all that? By yourself?” It was my turn to gawk.

“Yep!” she said, beaming with pride, “Fixing things is my special talent! Especially machinery.”

A pang of jealously came and went. I stood on the spot, chewing my lip while working it over. “Huh.”

“There’s still a lot to fix, but I figure it shouldn’t take too long. Especially after… well, I’m sorry.”

“You do realize I can’t afford to pay you, right?” Much, anyway.

“Nono! It’s okay! I can take care of myself, I’m not exactly strapped for cash,” she chuckled uncomfortably, scratching the back of her mane with a hoof. “Besides, I could use the vacation anyway.”

“Work... is a vacation?”

“I’ll be fine, trust me,” She smiled, and then looked thoughtful. “Although, having a free trip sometime might be nice.”

And we’re back to favors. I groaned. “Why don’t we think about that later,” I said, hastily trying to head off the conversation before she gave it too much thought.

“Deal,” she replied with a cheerful nod.

*****

The trip back was fairly relaxing. Despite the early hiccup with our new mechanic, the healthy thrum of the engines in the background provided a steady, relaxing ambiance to the ship, instead of the deafening roar it had been before. I still marveled at how much had been done in the short time we were onboard the station. Thanks to Tickintime’s calibrations, we were able to improve the accuracy of the Sparkle Drive by at least a third, shaving off a modest hour of our travel time since we wouldn’t have to adjust for as much variance. This wasn’t to say that we were busy, however. Unless you were making fixes or updating systems the Bandit was a dull place to be, made only tolerable by the new, lower noise level. Boredom ruled.

During the hour long breaks between the Sparkle Drive’s cooldowns, we each busied ourselves with whatever tasks we could find. While Nightshade kept watch on the bridge, Jess and I took trips down to the cargo bay for target practice. After my stellar accuracy on the Mag Rail, Jess all but volunteered to teach me how to use Fritter’s pistol a little better, with and without a WAND. Lesson one was the strapping mechanism which I had somehow missed the first time around. The pistol had several small hooks planted in the side so that it could be secured to a foreleg safely. It was missing the straps, but Jess had some spares on her and after some awkward fussing, we managed to get the damn thing connected. She spent a total of two hours patiently working with me on it, picking a nice blank wall in the cargo hold to serve as my target, between making trips back to the pilot’s cabin to key the next jump. By the end of two hours, I had succeeded in creating a nice mural of black marks on the blast door, none of which overlapped, and the end result looking more like the wrong end of a shotgun than any sensible grouping.

Halfway through our training, Tickintime walked in. She had been contenting herself to tuning up the Bandit’s backup systems while Jess and I were doing target practice, and when she walked in to check on a faulty shunt, her jaw nearly blew a hole through through the floor. Now, I’ve heard some pretty acerbic lectures working for Junkyard, and I’d be lying if I said hers didn’t rank a close second. It took both Jess and myself to get her to calm back down. My ears probably rang for minutes afterward. Whatever Tick’s deal was, she seemed to have some bizarre motherly instinct that seemed to kick in whenever machinery was involved. Frankly, I found it kinda creepy. A little later as I trotted past her on my way to see how things were coming along in the cabin, I found her crooning over a drone she was fixing, whispering small comforts to it over all the small dents and wiring problems she was working out. She never noticed me stop and stare, nor did she when I quietly slipped out, feeling a tad bit more uncomfortable than moments before.

The rest of the trip passed in quiet boredom, but it was a nicer boredom, thanks to the mercifully reduced noise level. I could thank Tick for that at least, weird as she was. The trip out had been miserable. This, at least, was a step in the right direction.

It was late in the day by the time we got back to L6-C.

“Docking Authority, this is Lieutenant Jess Silvermane, requesting permission to dock under priority command.” Jess’ voice was clear as she spoke over the C-Band. It took a few moments for the tower to respond.

“Officer Silvermane you are currently flying a ship designated, ‘Scrap Bandit’ which is not a regulation cruiser, could you confirm your credentials please?”

Jess sighed, “Credentials on the way.”

I stood next to Jess in the pilot’s cabin as she worked out our docking permission with the Tower, waxing nostalgic over the long lines of starships snaking their way into the hangar. The best I could manage was a grimace. The last time I had seen this view, Junkyard had died the following morning. Mood souring, I frowned and looked for the services node. We were still out of range.

“Credentials approved, Officer Silvermane,” the tower replied, “please proceed along track seven to Priority Two. Welcome home.”

“Thank you, tower.” Jess said. The line popped as the connection closed.

“Well that was easy,” I commented, still watching the starships outside. The ship heaved as we started moving forward again, slowly burning toward the beacon marking our entrance vector. I smiled as we passed ships, happy we wouldn’t be caught up in a yet another legendary wait.

“Like I said earlier, being part of the corps has its perks,” Jess said as she levelled us with the beacon, after a moment she continued, “You know, if I put in a good word with the boss, I might be able to get you a spot on the force if you’re interested?”

I shook my head and laughed softly. “After a day like today I think I’d rather stay away from law enforcement thank you very much.” I paused, admiring the speed which the others haulers were going by, “Still, thank you for the offer. If I change my mind I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

Jess seemed to accept that. “I understand. Today really could have gone better,” she admitted as she brought us into our final straightaway with a smooth turn, “but I can promise you that not every job involves getting blown up.”

I smirked. “So are all your colleagues like that?”

Jess set her jaw. “No. but, there are enough crazies on the force to make me wonder some days. The beat cops are usually pretty level headed, it’s when you get to the hunter corps that you start worrying.”

I frowned.

“I like to think I work in the interest of justice, Horizon. I put the bad guys where they belong and I take a certain amount of pride in that, but there are plenty of others who do it just for the kick. Some love it, hunting ponies. They’re criminals, or so they tell us, but… some days I have to wonder if we’re the real bad guys.”

I really frowned.

“Slide’s only one of them, if the most vocal. There’s more, some even worse.”

“Worse?” I asked, genuinely concerned

“Worse. I know a few who don’t even take ‘em alive, regardless of what they did. They make excuses, lie about their actions. I’ve seen them gun down ponies without a care in the world, outside of results anyways.”

I swallowed. “So your offer…” I said, uncertain of how to proceed.

“Is just an offer. Having another friendly face around the office is nice sometimes,” Jess said with a sad smile.

My WAND beeped. I checked my readout to see that we had just hit the services beacon, and that there was a transmission request already waiting. Judging by the callsign, it was coming from Junkyard’s office.

“Looks like somepony wants to talk,” I said, accepting the transmission request. The C-Band flared back to life.

“Huh? Oh! Hey! It worked!” A stallion on the other side said. I recognized him immediately.

“Still kicking around the office, Fritter?” I said with a smirk.

“Yep! Still here! I wanted to dive a bit deeper into your boss’s mainframe for a bit but I ran into a firewall. Progress has been slow, but I think I should be able to get if you’ll lend me that fob you had yesterday. You still have that right?”

“Yeah,” I said, checking my pack to make sure. The fob was still there, safe and sound. “Yeah, I still have it.”

“Awesome. That should make life a bit easier. Oh! I made some contacts here too. Lots of interesting ponies to talk to. I also tried to contact you by mail earlier but I then I realized I didn’t have your M-Net info,” Fritter laughed.

I chuckled sheepishly. “Well, that’s because I don’t have an account,” I replied.

“You what?” Fritter nearly shouted. “How can you not have an M-Net account?!”

“I never needed it,” I said, shrugging.

I could hear him facehoof, it actually sounded painful. “Oh my godde- Have… have you even used the M-Net before?”

“Um… no?” I said sheepishly.

Fritter took a long time to respond. “Okay. Horizon, as soon as you dock, come see me at the office. We’re getting you set up with an account. Now.”

“Fine,” I answered.

“Oh! And don’t forget to bring that fob of yours so I can finish unlocking the mainframe.”

“Alright,” I answered again, smirking. “Anything else?”

“Nope, that should do it. See you when you get here.”

“Right, see you soon,” I replied. The C-Band cut out again with a pop.

“You really don’t have a M-Net account?” Jess asked after a moment, looking at me with an amused look on her face.

“No,” I said honestly, “I never really needed one. I was always too busy working to really bother with it. Besides, who would I contact?”

Jess rolled her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe Prism?”

“She has one?”

Jess’ eyes nearly bulged. “Are you kidding me? Everypony has one, idiot! She’s been waiting for you to contact her on it for years!”

I blanched, suddenly feeling weary. “I screwed up, didn’t I?”

She laughed, “Well at least now I can tell her you weren’t ignoring her on purpose.”

I cradled my head with one hoof. “Yet another stellar performance,” I groaned.

Jess chuckled, shifting her focus back to the Bandit’s controls as we approached the docking shield. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see if I can’t smooth things over with her later. Why don’t you go back and check on the others? I’ve got to guide us in.”

I nodded. “I’ll do that.”

I left her to it. Heading back through the pilot cabin door, I descended the ladderwell leading to the lower level. I was greeted by an odd sight. Nightshade stood at the bottom of the ladderwell, watching several parts float away toward the aft section. Coming out onto the deck, I started staring too. A veritable cloud of parts and tools floated above an open floor grate where Tickintime’s tail poked out, waggling back and forth as she muscled something into place. Nightshade’s head turned as I descended, giving me a cursory nod before returning his gaze to the spectacle with muted interest.

“We’re pulling in,” I said, loud enough so the unicorn could hear. “Tick, are you still working on that?”

The tail disappeared into the floor, promptly replaced by a bespeckled head. Tickintime adjusted the glasses on her face with a smile. “Yep! Lots to do!” she said cheerfully. A fresh streak of grease had somehow smeared its way onto her face, looking more like war paint than an accident.

“She’s been at it the entire trip,” Nightshade commented.

“Yeah? So?” Tick replied before taking a moment to wipe her face with a rag. She had only succeeded in making the smear longer. “I’m making great progress! I just need to tweak some of the dampeners in the flooring to clear out some of the fluctuations in the power grid. Whoever set them up really did a number on it. I found a feedback loop in one of the gravity plates which is why you might have noticed parts behaving weird when they get loose.”

“Did you understand any of that?” I asked Nightshade.

Nightshade shook his head. “Bits and pieces?” he offered.

“Ugh,” Tickintime facehooved. “Power problem. Artificial gravity. Fixing it? Honestly! How did you pass the engineering portion of your pilot exam?”

“Blind luck,” I replied with a smile. Hurray for multiple choice questions.

Tick scoffed as she dived back into the deck, darkly muttering something about ships and maintenance.

“This is going to be a thing, isn’t it.” I muttered.

“Probably,” Nightshade agreed.

“Tick,” I called. There was no response, the tail was in the air again. “Tick!” I called again, louder this time.

“Z-wha-huh?” she replied, her head peeking back out of the hole in the floor.

“Why don’t you give it a break? You’re gonna burn out at the rate you’re going,” I said.

Tickintime blew a raspberry, hefting a small box of tools onto the deck with her TK and procedurally stuffing tools into it from the cloud above her. “Yeah, right. You’ve obviously never seen me work. I could do this all day!” she gestured at everything while tool after tool filled the box.

“You have. It’s nearly ten at night.” My sentence was punctuated with a dull metallic thud as a docking clamp locked into place. Two more followed it, jostling the ship as it finally came to a rest. “And we’re here anyway. Pack it up and get some rest. It’ll be there in the morning.”

“Aw, but there’s still a lot of stuff to do!”

“And it will be waiting here tomorrow,” I said. “You’ve already done more than enough already.”

“Can’t I just finish this adjustment on the-”

“No,” I said louder, trying to add a little command to my tone. “Tools. Storage. Now.”

She grumbled, ducking down and levitating out a few more of the tools she was using, setting them inside the toolbox and closing it with a clack.

“We’re all set up top,” Jess announced as she descended the ladderwell behind me. “You all ready to- what’s wrong?”

“We acquired a workaholic,” Nightshade commented, glancing over at the open floor grate and the unicorn crawling out of it.

“Hey Jess? could you do me a solid?” I asked as she pulled up next to us.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I’m pretty sure Tick doesn’t have anyone here to help get her set up with shelter for the night and I don’t want her staying here.”

“What? are you worried she might run off with the ship?”

“Or marry it,” I said shaking my head. Nightshade snorted. “Just make sure that she gets some rest tonight. She’s been working all day and I’m pretty sure she’s not familiar with how things work here.”

Jess nodded, “I’ll take care of it on my way back to the office. I’ll need to get her registered anyway.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“I do have one condition.” Jess added smugly. I quirked an eyebrow in response. “After you see your friend, come over to DJ’s tonight with me and Prism. I want to make sure the two of you get back on good terms. She’s been really down on herself since she started working there and I want her to know she’s still got other friends who care. Got it?”

I sighed. “Alright, I’ll do it.”

“Good,” she smiled. “Shall we?”

*****

We all broke up from there. Nightshade headed off to do run some errands and said he would be back later, while Jess took Tick over to the customs office to get her registered and start work on her report. We bid farewell and went our separate ways. Twenty minutes and a cab ride later, I walked into Junkyard’s office alone.

The heat was on, for once, and aside from the slightly musty smell I’d come to associate with the place, nothing seemed too different. In fact, it felt more like another day at work than anything else. The only thing really missing was the squeaking of a chair straining under far too much weight that normally followed somepony’s entry through the front door. Instead, I heard a soft rustling noise coming from around the corner, followed by a hollow bump and a curse. “Fritter? You in here?” I called out.

“Yeah! Over by the desk!” Came a reply. I peeked around the corner to see what damage he’d done to the office while I was gone. What I found was… surprising.

In my absence, Fritter had cleaned Junkyard’s office. The floors were swept, the shelves emptied and dusted, even the computers looked like they had been recently wiped down and sterilized. Gone was the old box of stale donuts, as well as nearly every indication that Junkyard had ever set foot in the building. A somewhat scruffy Fritter sat behind Junkyard’s desk, leaning back in Junkyard’s chair and sifting through a mess of wires connecting a small laptop to the desk console. At my entrance he looked up at me with a beaming smile.

“Hey du-” Fritter blinked, giving the state of my flight suit a once over. “Dayumn! You look crispy.”

“I feel crispy,” I replied with a smirk. “I’ve had a hell of a day. Though, by the looks of this place you’ve been rather busy yourself.” I indicated the trash can, where the majority of the old crap had been thrown. Judging by the quantity inside, it had recently been taken out.

Fritter gave me a broad, sheepish smile. “Yeah, I find it’s hard to concentrate when there’s crap everywhere,” he said, scratching an itch in his mane with a hoof, “well, other ponies’ crap anyway,” he qualified. “You got the fob?”

I nodded, pulling out the little black box with my WAND. “Yeah, right here,” I said, floating it onto the desk. Fritter swept it off the desk and into his foreleg with a wing.

“Perfect,” he said, plugging it into his laptop.

“What do you need it for, anyway?”

“Firewalls, mostly. Your friend Junkyard’s database was too heavily secured to crack with my normal tools, and I didn’t bring better.”

“You never told me you could hack.”

“It didn’t seem important. Besides, what kind of info broker would I be if I couldn’t crack a little protection?” he said, then returned his attention to the small screen on his laptop. “Aaand bingo! Nothing like administrative override!” Immediately, text started scrolling across the screen. Fritter glanced back and forth through the output stream and then nodded, leaning back into his chair and stretching while the machine did its work.”

“So what’s this you were saying about some kinda mail account?”

“Oh! Right! The M-Net! Well, part of that is why I needed this fob. What I’m doing right now is getting access to Junkyard’s M-Net account. Once I do, I should be able to move it over into your name and we’ll have access to all his files, mail, and whatever else he was using it for.”

“Is that… legal?” I asked.

“Well you are the owner of all Junkyard’s things now, so… yes?” Fritter thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. “I dunno. Either way, it’s a step toward getting our answers. I still can’t believe you’ve never had an M-Net account before,” he said, shaking his head.

“Too much trouble,” I simply said.

Fritter rolled his eyes, “Some ponies…” he muttered. Just then his laptop chirped. “Hah! looks like it’s ready, can I see you WAND for a second?”

“Uh, sure?” I said, carefully unstrapping the item in question. I hoofed it over to him and he placed it next to his laptop, running a wire from his laptop into a hidden port near one of the earbuds. I watched as he hummed some tuneless song while he worked. A few keystrokes later and he smiled.

“Done! You now have an M-Net account,” Fritter said proudly. “Welcome to the future Horizon!” he laughed.

“Hardy har, har,” I leveled. “What’s it do?”

“Everything,” he simply said. “Though, now that you have your own account you’ll be able to access things like the messenger service. Very useful! Here put this back on and try it.”

I strapped my WAND back on, unsure of what to expect. I’d used the M-Net before, but most of it was just for the low level functions like data transfer and downloading programs. I’d never used its fabled simulation technology or any other other time wasters that cost both bits and time. So far as I could remember, I never really had either.

“Okay, now what?” I asked. Fritter merely hit a key on his laptop.

My WAND beeped. A new notice popped up on my WAND’s readout, a small envelope looking icon with Fritter’s name attached.

“Huh, I suppose that is cool. Uh… how do I respond?”

“Oh! uh… I think it’s just like regular use, just think it or something. I still can’t believe you’ve never used this before.”

Bearing that in mind I started thinking about answering the question Fritter sent me. Immediately a text prompt opened.

>Huh. Cool.<

“Like I’d want my boss breathing down my neck?” I replied.

>Huh. Cool. Like I’d want my boss breathing down my neck?<

Whoops. I deleted the message.

“Well when you put it that way,” Fritter said thoughtfully. “Man, your boss must have been a real pill.”

Said the pony who is sitting in his chair. I chuckled. “You have no idea. So, did you find out anything about Nightshade yet?”

“Ugh, I wish. Progress on that has been a mess! Do you have any idea how many ponies out there are named Nightshade?”

“Uh… a lot?”

“Try a tenth of the sector! And half of those are Thestrals! It’s gonna take me years to sort through it all at this rate, unless you’ve found some info that might help.”

I thought for a moment. “Jess mentioned something earlier, actually. Apparently he’s had some military experience that he shared with her.”

Fritter hummed. “I can start there, I guess. At the very least, it should narrow the search a bit. Provided he wasn’t lying, anyway.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think he was lying. Military seems to fit with what I know of him—mannerisms and whatnot.”

Fritter nodded. “I’ll keep looking then.”

My WAND beeped again. This time with a message from somepony named LT Silvermane.

“Oh, don’t tell me the ads found you already?” Fritter said in disbelief, “I knew they were tenacious, but damn!”

“It’s from Jess, actually. Apparently I’m wanted at DJ’s.” At Fritter’s proud smile I clarified, “Not like that. I agreed to meet with her and Prism there in exchange for a favor.” I winced. That was what I did, wasn’t it?

Fritter laughed, “I am so going to win that bet. Say, you wouldn’t happen to need company would you? I’ve been so wrapped up in work here that I forgot to get food.” As if on cue, Fritter’s stomach growled. I stared at him for a few seconds. His smile only broadened.

“Let me guess… I’m buying?” Fritter simply kept smiling. I sighed, “Figures. Sure, whatever. A little extra testosterone shouldn’t hurt too much.”

*****

DJ’s was packed. Dinner was already in full swing, and the ponies there for clubbing had formed a line leading out the door. Apparently some big celebrity was supposed to be performing tonight, judging by the excited whispers of some of the ponies in the line. We spotted Jess standing next to the bouncer. She was out of uniform, her stark white coat easily identifiable from the distance and her silvery mane drawn back into a relaxed ponytail. Her WAND glowed softly on her forehead, eyes lighting up once she saw us.

“There you are! I was beginning to wonder if you were going to skip out,” Jess called out over the crowd.

I waved back. “I considered it, but then I remembered what would happen if I let Prism down again,” I said with a smirk.

Jess smiled. “So you do learn new tricks. And brought company?” she made a impassive glance at Fritter who simply grinned back at her.

“I agreed to feed him,” I quickly explained “He’s been doing some research for me and forgot to eat something.” I paused long enough to pass a suspicious glance in his direction, “or so he said.”

Fritter wisely said nothing.

“Well as long as he knows when to keep his mouth shut then I suppose he’s fine.”

“He doesn’t,” I said.

“I don’t,” he admitted, “but I do make a mean fritter.”

“He doesn’t,” I said with a grin.

Jess remained unfazed. “Whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes. She nodded to bouncer who stepped aside, “I’ve got us a table inside, come on.”

It then occurred to me that somepony was missing. “Hey Jess, where’s Tick?” I asked.

“Sleeping,” she said quickly. “I let her crash at my place for the night. Don’t worry, she’ll be fine. She was more worn out from today than she let on.”

“Who’s Tick?” Fritter interrupted.

I felt my wings twitch uncomfortably. “She’s a unicorn we… met, on our way back here. She’s a little, uh, different.”

“Oh?” Fritter’s eyebrows climbed scandalously.

“Would you stop with that already!”

“What? I’ve got twenty bits on you!” he laughed.

“Only twenty?” I said in mock offense.

Fritter coughed, “well I’m not about to bet the farm on ya.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence buddy,” I muttered.

“It’s what friends are for,” he replied cheerfully.

Together, we all went inside.

Finding our table wasn’t hard. Hearing each other, on the other hoof, was much harder. The inside of the club was a deafening volume, the MC, whoever it was, had packed the house so tightly that outside of the dining area it was hard to move.

“Some crowd.” I muttered as we moved further and further toward the back. “Hey Jess, do you know who’s playing tonight?”

“Huh?” Jess said, looking over her shoulder toward me. I had to repeat my question a little louder before she could understand me. Jess shrugged, “I dunno, last I heard it was supposed to be somepony name gravedigger or something.”

“Tombstone,” A new voice corrected, “and you’re sitting over here.” Ruby Prism, in all her brilliant red glory stood in a waitress’ apron with a drink tray balanced precariously across her withers. Her wings twitched as her eyes glanced over me, and then locked onto Jess with a look that quite thoroughly demanded an explanation. “Alright Jess, what’s up? I’ve got a few other customers that I need to serve.”

“Hey! Hey waitress! Over here!” some obstinate bastard called.

A sour grimace crept onto Prism’s face. “Excuse me for a moment,” she said, quickly trotting around the corner.

WHACK

Prism came back smiling. “Okay what was it you wanted?” she asked sweetly amid the background sounds of startled ponies. Fritter and I exchanged worried glances.

“I was hoping you could take a few minutes off work so we could all talk for a moment.” Jess said with a warm smile.

Prism took one look at me and made a disgusted sound. “Really?” she asked Jess pleadingly. Jess merely nodded, her smile fading to something of a grimace. “Ugh, fine. Let me go talk to my boss really quick so I can get somepony to cover.” With that she headed off toward the kitchens.

We each took a seat inside the corner booth, the noise level being mercifully lower inside rather than out. I had a good view of the entrance, and while we waited for her to get back I watched more and more ponies filter in through the main entrance toward the dance floor. A few minutes later, Prism returned, taking a seat as far away from me as possible and bringing a tray full of water with her as well. Jess and I passed the drinks around with our WANDs and together we settled in for a rousing period of awkward silence.

“So…” Fritter asked idly tapping a hoof on the table.

“Shut up, Fritter,” Jess and I said in unison.

It was enough. Prism snickered slightly, a hint of a smile coming back to her face.

“Well?” Jess asked, a smug grin working its way onto her face.

Prism sighed. “Alright! Alright fine. Horizon,” Prism fixed me with the most unapologetic glare she could manage, “I’m sorry I blew up at you for what you did a few weeks ago.” Her glare softened a bit as her eyes started drawing a zig zag across the tabletop. “It… I know why you did it, and I-”

“No,” I Interrupted her. Prism looked up at me, a cautious look forming on her face. “Let me start first, okay?” I asked. She huffed, then sat a little straighter.

I cleared my throat, trying to find the words I needed.

“This is gonna be awkward, and, ah, fuck it. I am so sorry for what happened,” I said, “I used you and I know it, and frankly, I’ve felt like dirt about it since then. I don’t expect you to forgive me, nor should I. I cost you everything when I got you to let me go early, and everything that followed… all this,” I said gesturing to everything, “It’s my fault and I know it.”

Prism huffed. “Damn right it’s your fault,” she muttered. I winced. She sighed. “But, you’re right and you’re wrong. Jess talked to me about the whole thing, and I have to admit, it’s my fault too. I chose to let you out when I shouldn’t have, and I bear the responsibility for that decision.” She bit her lip. “and the consequences,” she added glumly.

“It might not help, but, I’m grateful you did. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Prism stared at me with something akin to awe. “You’ve changed… haven’t you?”

I chuckled, “well, getting nearly beaten to death in an alley probably helped.”

“Oh my gosh! what?” Prism said in surprise.

“Oh! You haven’t heard about my little adventure! Have you?” I said, laughing.

Shock and awe was the order of the day. Prism sat through it with a blank face as I told her everything that had happened since I left the station that fateful day. From my encounters with the gang, Nightshade and what we did to get my WAND. The events on the cargo ship and our escape, even getting caught by Jess. Though, Jess had a few points of her own to interject on that note, particularly the shot me with a stun rifle bit. Halfway through my story Prism stopped me.

“Wait. Y-you’ve... killed ponies?”

I blinked as I worked through what she had just said. I had, hadn’t I? Mentally, I started doing a body count. There were those in the gang fight, the cargo ship, the… cruisers. Holy shit, I had killed a lot of ponies. Depending on the number of ponies onboard the cruisers that attacked me, that number could have been over a hundred. Granted I wasn’t directly responsible for all of them but… damn!

Horizon effect, Nightshade’s words echoed in my head. I was starting to believe it.

“I… I suppose I have,” I muttered as I worked through the revelation with a newfound disbelief, “but they were all bad ponies?” I offered, giving her an awkward, lopsided grimace. I hoped they were all bad ponies, anyway. What was really sad is that I didn’t feel that shocked about it. It was mostly in self defence, right? It wasn’t like I could have helped it or anything!

“If it helps at all,” Jess said, breaking into the conversation, “I’ve seen him in action. He wouldn’t hurt a fly if he had a choice.” A sort of knowing look crossed Jess’s face as she passed a glance back in my direction.

“Wow…” Prism said, breathlessly. “This is a lot to absorb. I mean I never thought that you’d- Wow. When did you get so cool?”

“Probably around the time I stopped being such a huge asshole.” I muttered, my ears wilting.

Fritter snickered, “Lots of progress on that front.”

“Oh, shut it, you.”

“So what did you do with Jess today?” Prism asked.

“I took him on a bounty job out in the Core.” Jess said, then suddenly grimaced. “That didn’t… um. Turn out well.”

Prism stared at her, face flat. “Jess? what did you do?”

“Well we kind of… um-”

“-blew up a train,” I finished for her.

Fritter spit his drink.“Pfft-what?”

“Well not intentionally!” I said, attempting to clarify.

“Technically it was Slide.”

“Oh my gods, that jerk?” Prism nearly shouted.

Someone cleared their throat in front of the table. Prism glanced up and suddenly jumped to a hover, nearly knocking the table over in the process.

“Whoops! Um, sorry guys! I need to get back to work,” she said sheepishly. Her boss trounced away.

“I understand,” I said nodding to her. The others murmured their agreement.

As she turned to leave, Prism paused, “Horizon?” She said, studying her hooves for a moment while she worked out what to say, “I don’t think I’m ready to forgive you for what happened a few weeks ago, but, I’m willing to at least talk again. That sound okay?”

I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. I sighed, feeling better than I had in weeks. “Yeah, that sounds great, Prism. Thank you.”

Prism peered at me, watching me as if she was really seeing me for the first time. “You really have changed, haven’t you?” she said distantly. She smiled. “Keep it up." With that, she grabbed the empty tray and flew back to her boss, who was waiting impatiently by the door to the kitchen.

A different waitress came by a short time later. I ordered dinner for the three of us, my treat. While we waited I listened to the background noise, noticing a dip in the noise as one set ended and another began. Eventually our order came, and halfway through eating I remembered something Nightshade had said before our trip back.

“Hey Fritter, Nightshade said something that got me thinking earlier today.”

Fritter’s mood soured. “After all that, you want to spoil my night by talking about him?”

Jess suddenly frowned. Fritter must have noticed by the way he suddenly straightened in his seat.

“He’s… maybe we’re overreacting a little about him,” I said.

Fritter frowned. “Maybe,” he said skeptically, “I still don’t like it when ponies feed me false information, however.”

I sighed. “Regardless, there’s something I’d like you to take a look at, if you don’t mind. Nightshade said you might be able to crack it.”

I turned on my WAND’s projector, displaying the file I had received from Tripwire. Fritter looked at it and blinked a few times, eyes suddenly widening.

“Whoah,” he muttered.

“You know what it is?”

“Pfft, no,” Fritter laughed, “are you insane? No one can read encryptions just like that. Unless you’re a computer, anyway. But, yeah, I’ll take a look at it. Just send it to my laptop with that messenger service I showed you earlier. I’ll start working on it in the morning.”

I shut off the projection. “Great. Thanks Fritter.”

“No problem! Thanks for buying.” He grinned.

We finished up our meal shortly thereafter. I left a very generous tip for Prism and the other waitress and we went our separate ways. Jess left to go work on her report, and the rest of us decided it was time for bed. I rented a room at a cheap hotel near the office while Fritter ran off to do his own thing. I slept in that night; it was glorious.

Late the next morning I got a new message from Fritter on my WAND. He wanted everyone there, surprisingly, even Nightshade. The message read:

76% Remaining...

Author's Note

Bit of a slower chapter this time around. Admittedly it is not my strongest chapter, but in the interest of moving things along I thought it best to publish and move on. Also, I've finally updated the cover art to the story. Zedrin did what he could to salvage my previous attempt and while it worked for a while, I wanted to do something myself. I'm proud to say that I'm very satisfied with the result. I put a lot of hours in learning how to use Photoshop for digital painting through various online tutorials and practice. I may tweak the end result to pay better attention to the subject matter but for now, the pic, like this chapter, are done.

On to the next.

13 - Junkyard

Chapter 13

Junkyard

“Gentlemen, I believe the current political climate has presented us with a rather unique opportunity.”
-3333 E.C.

The afternoon cycle had just kicked in by the time I trotted in through the front door of Junkyard’s office. I caught a glimpse of a chocolate tail as I rounded the corner and stopped, staring at the gathering of ponies sitting in my boss’s old, and perhaps even present, haunt. Simply walking in the door I could feel a bit of tension in the air, born more of a lack of coffee and patience than anything hostile. I saw a few anxious glances toward the empty carafe that had somehow made its way into the office.

“Morning, uh, everyone,” I said. Everyone present looked tired, something that was not surprising given the night we had previously. Nightshade stood patiently over by the corner, glancing at me from behind his mauve mane with a disinterested look, while Fritter, again, sat at Junkyard’s desk, idly fiddling with his laptop and humming a tune I didn’t recognize. At my entrance, he turned in his chair and beamed at me.

“Morning Horizon! Sleep well?” Fritter said cheerfully, a tired twinge attacking the edge of his smile. I heard something between a growl and a grunt from over by the bookcase in response. Jess sat with a deep frown on her face, wearing her police uniform and looking like hell warmed over. Her mane and coat were disheveled, her normally ordered manestyle had sprouted stray hairs along the edge of her WAND, and the intense scowl she threw in my direction was matched only by the size of the bags beneath her eyes. I could only guess at how long she had been up tackling paperwork the previous night. I had a feeling that if I asked I might lose a limb. Next to her sat Tickintime, looking uncomfortable and grumpy, fidgeting with her WAND while pointedly ignoring everypony else in the room with a lopsided frown.

“Well enough, I guess, Fritter. Yesterday was pretty long for everyone.” I turned to Jess, “You look like hell,” I said.

“I hadn’t noticed,” Jess replied acidly. Coffee order number one: Triple espresso, straight.

“I’m surprised you’re not in bed.”

“I was. Until idiot here started spamming me with messages every five minutes. I spent the entire fucking night swimming in paperwork and then this asshole starts whining about some ‘great discovery’ he made.”

“In my defense, it is pretty great,” Fritter explained, oblivious to the death glare Jess leveled at him.

“Yeah, that’s great and all, but why do I have be here?” Tickintime moaned. Coffee number two: mocha? I dunno, something with milk.

“Because station security caught you trying to sneak back onto the ship last night, and I had to come pick you up,” replied Jess, shifting her hate in a new direction.

“I just wanted to make sure everything was okay!”

“You tackled a technician who was changing a spotlight!”

“Well, then he should have been doing it the right way,” Tick huffed.

“Uh, ladies, if you don’t mind?” Fritter interjected. Jess gave him a Look. Fritter flinched, and then regained his bearing. “Um, yeah. Heh, great.”

“So what’s this news already? You’ve been tightlipped ever since you started insisting we wait for Horizon,” Nightshade cut in impatiently. Coffee number three: bold roast, black.

“And I was getting to that!” Fritter exclaimed “If you’d stop interrupting!”

Silence followed, born more of impatience than expectancy. Sighing, Fritter hit a key on his laptop. It was immediately followed by a humming sound as the hole projector he had set up on the desk warmed up.

“May I present to you, Junkyard!” Fritter said throwing his legs up as the projector flared to life. Several windows popped into existence above Junkyard’s desk and stacked three-dimensionally. At the room full of blank faces he was getting, Fritter deflated. “No? No applause?” Coffee number four: no coffee, extra tranquilizer.

“Yay,” Tick drawled. “Can I go now?”

“No,” Jess said.

“What are we looking at, Fritter?” I asked, skeptically glancing through the information. It looked like a large list of names and numbers, like an index of some sort.

“You don’t... you don’t recognize them?”

“Obviously not,” Nightshade said, an edge creeping in his tone.

“Contacts!” Fritter exclaimed happily. His smile faltered at the flat expressions he was getting.

I stared, arching an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“Yes?” Fritter said uncertainly. Jess groaned.

Recognition dawned on Nightshade’s face as the list started scrolling. “Oh…”

Fritter saw Nightshade’s reaction and beamed. “Yes! Contacts! And more contacts. And more contacts. This guy was loaded with em!”

“Fritter, we’re all short on caffeine right now, get to the point,” I said, feeling my patience dwindle. It was too early in the morn—well at least my morning—for this kind of thing.

“Ugh, fine! Horizon, this is how your boss made his living. Well, aside from the scrap sales, anyway.”

“Making contacts?”

“Selling information,” Nightshade clarified.

“Correct! Your boss was an info broker,” Fritter said, a little admiration in his voice, “and from what I can tell, one of the best! Take a look at these.” Fritter hit another key on his keyboard. A new set of windows appeared, these more recognizable. Bit accounts. “I found these attached to some of the emails in your boss’s M-Net account. It looks like he had several slush accounts set up that he was using for his info business, all under the table of course.”

“So that’s how he was able to afford that house,” I muttered, looking through the data.

“Mostly likely,” Fritter confirmed, “and much more from what I’ve been seeing. The payments all vary, but from what little time I’ve been able to dive into it thus far, he’s been moving bits around like no pony’s business.”

“I’m sure the audit department would have had a field day with that one,” Jess commented.

“Sure, if he was still alive,” I said.

“Who said that would stop them?” Jess said with a smirk. My stomach suddenly churned as I envisioned a bunch of taxmares practicing necromancy.

Not even the grave can stop true evil. I thought.

Fritter cleared his throat. “He’s also been keeping up with every single one of his contacts on a regular basis,” he continued. “One in particular a lot more than others. A lot of the transaction dates correspond with the dates on the emails too, if that helps anything.”

“Just how many contacts did this, Junkyard, have anyway?” Nightshade said curiously, scanning the list of what I assumed were either names or Junkyard’s grocery list—the way pony names are it’s hard to tell sometimes.

“My last count was just over a thousand,” Fritter said. Nightshade whistled.

Fritter continued, “Now I’ve set aside some of the more recent emails, but I haven’t really had a chance to do anything more than skim them.”

“So, what exactly got him killed then?” I asked, curious.

“I was just getting to that.” Fritter said with a knowing smile. He tapped a few more keys and several more windows appeared, these with specific headings.

“Junkyard was trading messages with one particular pony quite often, sometimes on a daily basis,” Fritter explained. “From what I could glean he was probably a friend, but they seemed to be working together on something big.”

“What gave you that impression?”

“These emails.” A few more popped up, placed at the head of the stack. “Whoever this pony is, he appears to be some sort of confidante for Junkyard. And in them they frequently reference what appears to be his enemy. It’s weird though.”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve been having trouble figuring out if this enemy of his is a pony or a group of ponies. Whoever he’s talking to about it, frequently references them as a ‘they’ but sometimes mentions a ‘he’ or a ‘she’.” Fritter hit another key and several lines of the emails were highlighted, each one referencing the enemy in question. “My best guess is that whoever this enemy is, they found out and snuffed him. Whether our mystery pony had anything to do with it is anypony’s guess.”

“Any other theories?” Jess asked, also skimming the data.

“Well other than an angry contact, not really. All his contacts seem to hold him in pretty high regard, all I really know is that whoever this enemy was, Junkyard really hated them, and his friend shared the sentiment.”

“I’d like to see those emails if you don’t mind,” I said. Since I knew Junkyard personally, I might be able to glean more from them.

Fritter shrugged, “It’s your mainframe now, so I don’t see why not.” Fritter hit a few more keys on his laptop and my WAND chirped as it updated.

“Oh, uh, one other thing, Horizon.”

“What’s up?”

“While I was looking through these emails, a number on one of them stuck out to me. I couldn’t really identify it however.” The screens shifted around to reveal a string of emails. I recognized the number immediately.

“The hell?” I muttered.

The message had been sent by another pilot that I knew in passing, less than politely declining some offer of payment by Junkyard for services. The number was obvious.

“Those are Sparkle Drive coordinates,” I said. They were unmistakable. Very few starship component took arcane numerals as inputs, and from the looks of them, the location was extremely far away.

“My Celestia…” Jess muttered.

“What? What’s it say?” Tick asked, confused.

I stared as I did some of the math in my head. Wherever this location was, it was several jumps beyond the eastern border of the Rim Worlds, maybe even further.

“That’s past the Rim. What the hell did he want out there?” I asked, skimming through the email.

“From the message history, apparently he wanted to retrieve something, but the dispatch didn’t say exactly what.”

I brought up the message on my WAND and started skimming through it looking for relevant information. Eventually I found an attachment. Sending it to the projector, the missive instantly displayed. It was a salvage dispatch.

“Huh. That’s interesting.” I muttered.

A cargo ship, or at least that’s what the description of it sounded like. Whatever it was, it had been destroyed well outside of civilized space and Junkyard wanted a crack at it.

“What do you know about this ship, Fritter?” I asked.

Fritter shrugged “Hell if I know, this kind of thing is outside my specialty.”

“Cargo ship, right?” Jess said, looking at the data skeptically. I nodded in response. “What the hell is a cargo ship doing out there?”

“Maybe there’s a settlement nearby?” Nightshade offered.

“Maybe,” Jess said, rubbing her chin with a hoof, “It’s not unheard of for pirates to set up small haven outposts, but I’ve never heard of any group operating that far out. It’s just not practical.”

“Practical how?” I asked.

“Well think about it, in order to keep a colony up and running you need a steady influx of water and food, or some way to produce it on your own.” Jess explained, “The larger the colony, the larger the need. Supplying something that far out would be too expensive to be practical, especially for pirates since they have to capture their supplies instead of buying them.”

Mysteriously destroyed cargo ship with dubious origins and an unknown destination. This was starting to sound awfully familiar. I frowned, “I don’t like it. It’s not normal, especially for Junkyard.”

“Why do you say that?” Fritter asked.

I looked back up at the email and started reading again. “Junkyard never had me doing any salvage runs outside the PC. Normally he’d have me go retrieve old satellites or the occasional shipwreck, but nothing like this. This is too far away to make any sense.”

“That might explain why the pilot declined it.” Nightshade offered, also reading the email. “Seems like he felt Junkyard was reaching too far as well.”

“Which brings me to something I forgot to mention.” Fritter said, hitting another key. Another window popped up, this one appearing to be another string of messages. “Junkyard’s confidante, a lot of their conversations revolved around you, Horizon. Or at least I’m guessing it was you.”

“Well he did like to bitch about me,” I said as I started reading. The email looked more like a message history than a letter. Names were all but avoided, in favor of truncated callsigns.

JJ - I was hoping to avoid this but it looks like I have no choice. I’ve tried thirteen pilots so far and all of them said no. I’m going to have to send the boy out to play fetch.

WS - I’m not comfortable with this.

JJ - I know, but if I had a choice I’d use it.

WS - The Rim is a dangerous place J, I don’t think the kid would know how to handle it.

JJ - He’ll be fine, He’s done a lot of similar work before, besides, I’m not just about to let this go, if this is what I think it is then we won’t have to worry about our mutual friends anymore.

WS - I know! Just... be careful with him. I know he frustrates you.

JJ - That’s an understatement.

WS - So is the ship still in as bad of a condition as I remember?

JJ - Worse. I’m surprised it’s still holding together after all the shit it’s been through. I’ve fixed most of the major problems, all that is left is some structural damage. Nothing lethal, but certainly more than enough to keep him from doing something crazy.

WS - I still don’t like it. We’ll have to chat again later. I’ve run out of time here.

JJ - I understand. Stay safe.

“Looks like this was going to be my next job,” I said, frowning. It was odd, in the email Junkyard almost sounded concerned for me. Out of curiosity I checked the timestamp on the conversation. It was dated the day before the murder.

“Seems like you got off lucky,” Nightshade replied.

I shook my head, “Nah, it would have been impossible anyway. This was before the breach in the cockpit got fixed. I would have suffocated before I even reached the place. Unless Junkyard was planning to fix the Bandit before then.”

The statement drew an odd look from everyone present save Nightshade.

“You were working without life support?” Jess said incredulously.

“It was worse?” Tickintime said, horrified.

“It’s a long story,” I replied. “So, Fritter, what about that file I showed you?”

Fritter brightened. “Oh yeah! That!”

“You made some progress?”

“None whatsoever!” he replied cheerfully. With another keystroke the same bit of information we had been viewing the previous day started scrolling in front of us. “All I managed to figure out was the type of encryption they were using.”

“And?” I said.

“And, you might as well give up,” Fritter simply replied.

I really frowned.

Fritter sighed, “Look, I know you don’t want to hear that, but it’s the truth. Whatever this file you got is, it’s protected by a paired encryption.”

“A paired what?”

“Paired Encryption, it’s a special type of encryption that encrypts a file and then splits it into multiple parts. Whatever that file is, you’re never gonna decrypt it until you find the rest of it.”

“Great,” I sighed. “Thanks for all the hard work anyway, Fritter.”

“No problem,” Fritter replied, shutting down his laptop with a clack. A few moments later the projector flickered and died leaving the rest of us with a lot to think about.

“So is this all you guys do?” Tickintime asked after a minute, breaking the silence, “read emails and speculate?”

“You’d be surprised how many jobs that describes,” Jess replied with a tired smirk.

“You’re not seriously thinking about going after that ship are you?” Tickintime asked.

I chewed my cheek while I thought it over. “Junkyard seemed to think it was worth pursuing, and if it’s related to this enemy of his it might be my only chance to figure out who they are. If I want to figure out why I was framed, that might be part of my answer. Besides, it’s not the first time I’ve salvaged a cargo ship.” I made a cursory glance at Nightshade, who shifted uncomfortably.

“As long as we fly safe we shouldn’t have any trouble with pirates,” Jess added after a moment. “While pirate activity out in the Rim fairly active, these coordinates look like they’re too out of the way to be a problem. Pirates tend to focus on the major space lanes, and these are nowhere near that. Heck I don’t even think the M-Net repeaters go that far.”

“So really, it’s just a long trip,” Nightshade said.

“With a possible payout,” I finished. “The fact that Junkyard was willing to go through thirteen pilots to get at it probably means it’s valuable. Or at the very least, worth looking at.”

“If it’s still there,” Nightshade said. I nodded in agreement.

Fritter rubbed his chin as he spoke up, “Well from what I read of your boss, he was really confident in whatever it was.”

It didn’t take long for me to make my decision. “So, wants to take a trip?” I asked.

“I think you already know my answer to that question.” Nightshade said with a smirk.

Jess shrugged. “Eh, might as well. I don’t feel like pushing paper for the rest of my career anyway—administrative leave my flank. I’m in.”

Fritter shook his head. “You have fun, and let me know how it turns out. I’ll be more use here, but if what you said is true, then I’ll probably be catching a shuttle back to Winter’s Edge before you get back. I’m almost done with everything I can do here anyway. I’ll contact you via messenger if anything comes up.”

I nodded, and then turned to the last member present. “Tick? What about you? Still bent on fixing the Bandit?” Tickintime looked conflicted.

I wouldn’t blame her if she said she didn’t want to go. The trip would take at least a day or two and that was only in one direction. It’d be another two back, unless we were planning to go somewhere else afterward. And then there was the matter of Joe’s whiskey. Well, one step at a time.

Tickintime bit her lip, seemingly debating something in her head before she nodded. “I’ll do it,” she said, finding her confidence.

“Are you sure? Once we head out, we’re not going to be back here for a while. It’s not too late to catch a shuttle back to the Core.”

She shook her head in reply. “I said I was going to finish this job and I will. Besides, they’re not exactly going to miss me anyway,” she said.

Fritter crooked an eyebrow at that, but said nothing.

“Okay then. I guess that settles that. Jess, you’re the only one authorized to fly here, so... when do you want to head out?”

Jess thought for a brief moment before responding. “We’re going to need supplies, and I need some fucking sleep. How does six tonight sound?” she said.

“Six it is,” I replied.

***

In the hours leading up to our departure, I had a lot to think about. We all had time to kill and frankly, I wanted to get a few things done on my end as well. Namely, lodging. I needed a more permanent place to stay if I wasn’t going to burn through all my bits on hotels. Nightshade took off immediately after the meeting and Tickintime excused herself to go prep the Bandit for departure. As for Fritter…

“Remind me why you decided to invite yourself along for this again?” I asked Fritter as we stood in front of Cosmo’s Starship Supply.

Fritter shrugged while holding the door for me. “What can I say? I’ve been working most of the morning and I needed a breather,” he said with mock dignity.

“You want me to buy you lunch again, don’t you?” I said flatly.

Fritter coughed, “Maybe.”

I stared.

“Yes?” he finally relented, a twinge of hope in his voice.

“Let me guess, you forgot your bitstick at the office?”

“Sure, that works.” Fritter laughed.

“Well then I’m sure there’s a dumpster around here with you name on it,” I replied with a smile as I trotted passed him.

“Cheapskate,” Fritter said.

“Mooch,” I replied.

The inside of Cosmo’s Starship Supply wasn’t much to look at. Beside the holographic posters displaying some of the dubiously top-of-the-line products available for purchase and the nearly bare sales counter, the store was remarkably barren. It wasn’t all that surprising, though, since most of their orders went through a catalog anyway. An extremely bored pink unicorn sat at the counter and watched the two of us with mute indifference, as she applied a file to her hooves with her magic.

“Excuse me,” I said, walking up to the counter.

The look I got in return could have peeled paint. Thankfully, working for Junkyard all those years did a lot to numb the impact. I simply smiled back at her.

“Yes?” She asked, then something like recognition flashed through her eyes. “Wait, you’re…” it was then that she started frowning. “The answer is still no, Horizon. We still don’t take charity cases, and we’re not supplying you for free.”

Fritter gave me a quizzical look while I simply smiled back at the salesmare and floated out a bitstick.

“Actually,” I said with a smug grin, “I’m paying bits.” The look of shock at the proffered bitstick was so worth the trouble.

I probably paid a lot more than I should have for what we needed, but I wasn’t going to be spending the next few days doing nothing more than kicking pipes and reading diagnostics. We were slated for at least a three day trip, and even with three other ponies to talk to, the boredom would be torture. We would need something to do, and entertainment required a few amenities that the Bandit simply didn’t have. Cosmo’s specialized in shipboard logistics, and had everything you could need from rations to top of the line bunks and entertainment. Fritter restrained me from buying a full blown entertainment suite on the spot, and instead I settled for a humble holo projector, a short steel table, some moderately comfortable seating cushions, sleeping bags, a refrigerator and, of course, two crates of rations. The mare was cheerful by the time Fritter and I left the shop. After all, she was making a ten percent commission. Oh, and the ten bit tip probably helped too.

Stop two was a small grocery store. I picked up some snacks for the crew, as well as a few movies for the projector. A deck of cards for the table I bought made its way into the cart, as well as some basic plasticware for the rations. Drinks followed, mostly juiceboxes and ciders, although the temptation to include a few alcoholic beverages in there as well didn’t go wanting. By the time I was done, we had a sizeable cart full of things that would make me extremely happy in my past life. We ended up having lunch at the deli before heading out, and yes, I paid for Fritter’s lunch. Again. Damn mooch. At least he agreed to carry the groceries.

We were halfway back to the ship by the time I remembered that I would need something to sleep on. Sleeping bags were uncomfortable at best, and if I was going to be in space for the next few days, I was at least going to sleep on something more comfortable than a hard deck. I made one last stop before I bid farewell to Fritter on the docking platform. Entering the Bandit from the cargo bay, I secured the sealed containers protecting our supplies, as well as an old, old friend.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?” Tickintime had been hard at work on the Bandit, and more from the looks of things. Several stacks of spare parts had been organised the cargo hold, half of which appeared to be spread across the deck as part of some kind of project.

“It’s a couch,” I said with a smile. The single best couch in the galaxy.

Tickintime’s mouth worked soundlessly as she took in the lumpy green monstrosity with abject horror. “It… it’s I-”

“It’s beautiful, I know.” I couldn’t be more sincere. I’d missed it. Sorely.

“It’s hideous!” Tick shrieked. “And what’s that smell? It smells like-”

“Cigarettes and booze?” I finished for her. She gave a disgusted nod in return. “Try to think of it as a lived-in smell. Who knows, by the end of the trip you might not even notice it’s there!” I added with a chuckle. Tickintime looked like she was going to be sick. I turned my attention back to the pile of parts on the cargo bay floor.

“Where’d you get the parts from?” I said, indicating the mess of parts on the floor. The unicorn seemed grateful for the distraction.

“Oh these? I thought I would catch up on a few projects I’ve been working on. Plus we were short on spare parts so I stocked up on what was missing for repairs and a few extras.”

I winced. “Okay, what’s the damage?”

Tick raised a hoof to her face as she thought. “Well there’s a lot of it, to be honest. Your thrusters were damaged in what looks like a serious overload, there’s a lot of blown out circuits in the power grid, and that’s not even counting all the damage to backups…”

“I mean in bits. Parts? Spare parts cost money you know.”

“Oh! I took care of that don’t worry,” Tick said with a smile.

I raised an eyebrow. “You took care of it?” What I’d spent on my little shopping spree was nothing to laugh at. But judging by the pile of parts in the cargohold, whatever Tick had spent probably more than tripled it.

“Yep! All paid for,” Tickintime confirmed.

“What did you do, put it on my station tab?”

“No… I payed for it. With bits.” Tickintime said slowly.

“So when does the invoice arrive?”

“It doesn’t. I paid for it.” She waved me off as she gathered up the parts on the ground and started off toward the maintenance deck. “Don’t worry about it! I’ll get the ship fixed, just sit back and watch me work.” The door shut behind her.

I stood there for a minute, glancing between the pile and the door. Frowning, I opened up my new messenger program on my WAND and opened a line back to Junkyard’s office.

>Hey Fritter, are you still there? I sent.

My message went unanswered for a few moments before the buck in question finally responded.

<Yeah, I’m here. came the reply.

>Good, because I need you to look up somepony for me.

<Sure! What do you need to know?

>Could you look up a Miss Tickintime from the Core?

<You mean that unicorn you picked up on your last run?

>Yeah. That’s the one.

<Alright, sure, but this one will cost you though. If I might ask, what brought this on?

>She just paid for a ship’s worth of spare parts.

<Ouch. So much for retirement, eh? Fritter responded.

>On her own dime. I replied. The line was silent for several seconds afterward.

<I’ll get right on it. Fritter finally wrote.

>Thanks, I’ll send payment once you have the info.

<Done.

Satisfied, I closed the program and set about unpacking the new toys.

***

“Well you’re looking a lot healthier,” I said a few hours later as Jess, now an ordered mare, crawled in from the airlock. She was the last pony we were waiting for. Nightshade had arrived an hour previous, toting a saddlebag full of who-knows-what, while I finished setting up the new appliances on the Bandit’s lower deck. The auxiliary storage bay, given a few more improvements and maybe minus one dividing wall, was quickly shaping up to be a workable living area.

“A few good hours of shuteye will do that for a girl,” Jess replied. “How are preparations?”

“Complete,” I reported with a satisfied smile, “I’ve got us all stocked up on supplies and rations and I even got us a few toys to pass the time. I even bought a refrigerator!”

Jess was unimpressed, “That’s it?”

“And maybe several bottles of Applejack Daniels.”

Jess smiled, “That’s more like it.”

“Cards, booze, and movies. Provided everything goes smoothly we shouldn’t die of boredom on the way over,” I said.

“Outstanding. I also brought some things,” Jess said, levitating out a roll of flat white objects and several small objects from her saddle storage. At my vacant expression she clarified, “Targets. We’re going to keep working on your marksmanship until I’m satisfied. I don’t want to risk getting shot by a rookie if we get into another dust-up.”

I nodded, I did need the practice. “Yes Ma’am.”

“Don’t call me that, you’ll make me feel old," she replied immediately.

I chuckled. “Whatever you say.”

As Jess sauntered off toward the pilot cabin, I took the ladderwell down. At the bottom, I found Tickintime seated in a corner with several more of the parts she had purchased, fussing with one of the control panels.

I cleared my throat to get her attention. The response was immediate, her head shot up and slammed into the top of the panel, horn first. The pained yelp that followed rang in my ears.

“Owie…” Tickintime said, gingerly rubbing her horn.

I winced. “Sorry about that.”

Any sign of pain quickly fled from her face as she turned to face me. “I-It’s nothing, really, something you need?” She winced, rubbing a spot just above her horn.

“Just a heads up, really,” I said, “We’re almost ready to leave for the Rim. This is probably your last chance to book a shuttle home if you’re not sure about coming.”

She rolled her eyes. “I told you, It’s fine.” She said with a small smile. “I said I would come and I’m not backing out now. I’ve got things to do and the ship is in desperate need of an experienced hoof. Besides, I don’t think the boss will miss me too much.”

And I’m beginning to wonder why. I thought grimly.

“Is something wrong?” Tick suddenly asked. I really needed to work on my poker face.

“Uh, no,” I said quickly, “as you were, I guess.”

“Aye, aye Cap’n!” Tick gave me a cheerful salute—with the wrong hoof mind you— and then went back to work. I shook my head, choosing instead to make sure the supplies were still secured. Turning toward the cargo bay, barely a moment passed until Nightshade started flanking me.

“Horizon, could I talk with you for a moment?” Nightshade said. He wasn’t exactly smiling, his expression was somewhere between neutral and concerned. The way his eyes flicked toward Tickintime nearly let me read his mind.

I nodded my head toward the entry to the cargo hold. We both entered, and as soon as the door closed I asked him what I thought he was thinking.

“Let me guess, you don’t trust her either.”

Nightshade nodded. “She’s hiding something,” he said.

“She’s in good company,” I replied, “especially with those whose names start with 'N'.”

He rolled his eyes, “Well, yes, but at least I’m not outright lying to you.”

I arched an eyebrow. “If you know something I’d be more than happy to hear it.”

Nightshade shook his head. “No, it’s… just a hunch,” he said. He took another glance back at the bay door. “I don’t think she’s trouble, but I’m definitely sure she’s not being honest. I just thought you should know.”

As he turned to leave, I caught him with a wing. He glanced back at me. “What’s the deal with you Nightshade?” I said, “One moment you’re pushing me around like you own me, and now you just follow me wherever I go.”

“If I told you, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” I shot back.

Nightshade frowned, “You’re not ready for that information.”

“Then how can I trust you if you’re not going to trust me with it? You’re eager to cast doubt on Tick, and while I don’t disagree with your suspicions, why should I trust you either? You hide behind your little smoke and mirrors act any time we talk, and it’s really starting to piss me off.”

Nightshade frowned, squeezing his eyes shut, and deflated. “Are you sure you want to know? Even if you might not like what you hear?”

“Yes,” I said.

Nightshade sighed. “Fine. It has to do with my special talent.”

“Well that’s a nice non-answer.”

Nightshade glared at me, “I’m being serious, Horizon.”

“Well then, explain.”

“It’s hard.”

“Why?”

“Because my talent isn’t something that you can just point at and say, ‘oh look a cop!’ or ‘Gee, I’m awesome at fixing things.’”

“It’s an eight ball. It’s not that hard to figure out from my perspective. You’re good at pool, whoop-dee-doo.”

“Look, now you’re just being belligerent.”

“That’s because you’re stalling.”

Nightshade clenched his jaw. Took a deep breath and then sighed. “Fine. But for the record, I suck at pool.”

I raised an eyebrow and waited.

He continued, “You ever have one of those moments where you can just feel an itch at the back of your mane? Like something bad is going to happen?”

I thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I suppose I get those from time to time. Usually it’s my wings, but then again they just itch thanks to the flight suit. Damn wing sheaths don’t exactly let me air them out.”

Nightshade shook his head. “My talent is sort of like that. A kind of… divination.”

I really raised an eyebrow at that. “What, you can see the future?”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “But it does let me sense fate. Now don’t go thinking it’s like crystal ball shit, or anything like that. It’s much more subtle. I don’t know any specifics, hell, most of the time it doesn’t even give me yes or no answers. All I do know is that when I need to do something, I can rely on it to point me in the right direction.”

“Convenient.”

“Not really. It’s one of those feel-it-out kind of things. It won’t really answer any of my questions, most of the time I just have to wander around and figure it out on my own.”

“So that’s what you mean with all your ‘hunches?’”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Alright then, million bit question,” I said with a frown, “why are you still here? Why the all the favors? Why the bullshit?”

Nightshade looked me in the eye, his steel grey eyes locking with mine. “Because I need to kill someone, and my talent is telling me that you’re gonna help me do it.”

74% Remaining...

Author's Note

Originally this was going to be longer, but this seemed like a natural stopping point so I split the chapter instead. I hope you don't mind the lighter reading. Anyway, off to the next.

13.5 - Emails

Chapter 13.5 - Supplementary

Emails

J,

Oh my gods! I can’t believe your timing! Praise Celestia for you! If that had message hadn’t come when it did, I would have still been in my house when those bastards busted in the door. I was lucky to find shelter when I did, if it hadn’t been for that tip… holy shit, J, I would have been a goner. You’re a real miracle worker, I hope you know that.

J,

We’ve made a little progress from last week, more hints, but nothing we can nail em on yet. Command has been keeping me on a short leash as of late so I haven’t been able to keep up my normal tabs on things. They keep reassigning me to new posts, and I haven’t been able to get back to the sector. Fucking bureaucrats, all of them. I’m beginning to wonder if we don’t have a mole somewhere. Either way, standard protocol. We’ll chat again soon.
-WS

J,

I’ve put the information you requested in the normal place. Thank you for your business.
-Y

Mr J,

We appreciate your generous donation to our organization and look forward to working with you in the future. We will send the shipments as requested. We await further correspondence.

J,

They’re gone. They’re all gone. You were too late. Normally you’re better than this, but… I looked into it. Now I know you’re gone too. I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry for everything. But it’s okay, I’ll be seeing them again soon. Goodbye, J.

J,

Another day in paradise, eh buddy? That other lead I found the other day turned out to be a sting. We made it out, and managed to keep the bosses from hearing about it. Heh, I bet he’s so pissed right now. He had us right in his clutches and we wriggled right back out. That’ll teach him to be such a fucking moron. Good guys plus one. I’m still stuck in legacy limbo over here so I won’t be coming back anytime soon. How’s the kid doin? Last I heard he was starting to develop a bit of an attitude. We’ll talk again soon, I hope.
-WS

Hello Sir!

We would like to tell you about an amazing new investment opportunity in the Majestic ranges of New Canterlot! We are currently giving invitations to our exclusive new resort on the west side of the Heartland mountains. Experience the awe of the double moonrise while basking in the cool, refreshing breeze of the mountain zephyrs. One weekend and we’ll guarantee you’ll want to come back again and again. Buy now!
-Sandy Shores, Trade Winds Travel Agency

J,

Thank you for the warning. I’m getting us relocated now. The neighbors down the street had a break-in. Nearly pissed myself I was so scared. I’m hiding according to protocol. Good luck out there. Send word when safe. You know the code.

J,

You were right again! That outfitter was a front. The bounty money alone has been enough to get my bosses off my back about my ‘extra activities’, hopefully the space will enable me to work more on our little project. I’m sorry to hear about your pilot. That must have been a real blow. Overloading the Sparkle Drive like that… tch, they’re getting more inventive. Either way, I’m passing that little trick up the chain, who knows what we might get out of it. Hopefully some protection. Add it to the checklist I guess. I heard the kid is training to be a pilot. I hope you don’t plan to pull him into this whole mess. I’ve got enough on my plate to worry about as it is. We’ll talk again soon.
-WS

[This item has been marked as Spam]

PHYSICAL FITNESS IN A PILL! BURN FAT WITH NO EXTRA EFFORT! EARTH PONY DISCOVERS NEW MIRACLE DRUG.

J,

Our crusade just hit another setback. They nailed us good this time. Lost Pyre and BB, Charles too. Fucking bastards. I don’t know where the leak came from. I’m looking into it with a few ponies I trust. News soon. We’ll get em back for this, I promise.
-WS

J,

Found that tidbit you were looking for. Heavily secured, and you won’t believe where. T to intercept.
-X

Hello J,

You’ve been causing quite a stir within the network with all your recent activity. You’re probably wondering who I am, and for that I apologize as you know I cannot tell you. What I can tell you is that you have peaked my interest. I can also tell you that I am not your enemy, neither am I your friend. I am simply, as always, an observer. Do not be alarmed, I assure you that I have no bad intentions for you, in fact we share a common goal. I too hate your enemy, and if you need evidence of my sincerity you can verify the information that I have provided. If all goes well I will contact you again soon. And don’t bother trying to track this down, I have made quite sure that this is untraceable and even if you miraculously did manage to trace it you will find nothing more than my sincerest disappointment in your trust issues. Good day, Mr J.
-0

YOU FUCKING BASTARD! YOU INCOMPETENT MOTHER FUCKING BASTARD! YOU NEARLY GOT MY ENTIRE FAMILY KILLED YOU FUCKING SHITWIPE! TWO WEEKS LATE! TWO FUCKING WEEKS LATE! HELL! ITS A FUCKING MIRACLE WE WERE OUT OF TOWN THAT DAY. IF IT WASN’T FOR THE FACT THAT I WAS PARANOID TO BEGIN WITH I WOULD HAVE MISSED THE FUCKING BOMB. AND NOW TWO WEEKS LATER YOU FUCKING TELL ME THERE’S DANGER? FUCK YOU! JUST, FUCK YOU! I’M SO FUCKING DONE WITH THIS SHIT! WE’RE DONE! I’M MOVING US SOMEWHERE SAFE AND FUCK IF I EVER TELL YOU WHERE. I HOPE YOU DIE IN A HOLE YOU LAZY FUCKWIT.

J,

Scary! I don’t know how that guy managed to weasel his way in there, but we couldn’t find anything on him. Just like he said, what we traced was useless. Somehow he managed to reroute an M-Net connection, take over a terminal and send the message. He purged the system afterward, not even a damn trail left. Whoever this is, he’s good. On another note, his info was good too, we scored a huge point today after we took down one of their training facilities. Now I just need a good excuse for why I took hardware on a joyride. Contact you soon.
-WS

Hello again J,

I admit, I am a little disappointed with your trust issues, but given the nature of your work I suppose that is to be expected. As such, I am willing to overlook them in favor our goals. I am very glad to see you made such excellent progress with what I gave you. Continue impressing me and we could have ourselves a wonderful little partnership. Expect me to contact you again in the future.
-0

J,

I got your message. What happened? Are you still there? I know we’re all in a tight spot right now with those assholes closing their net, but we can’t afford to lose you right now, otherwise this whole thing is going to come down around our ears. Too many lives are on the line, J. We need you. I’ve heard news from support that the funding stopped coming. News out here has been coming slow so I haven’t been able keep up with what’s been going on over the past few weeks. You missed our last check-in and I’m starting to get worried. Please... please be okay.
-WS

>>AUG 22, 4131 10:30:27 - Sub-Zero to all,
I am not J. I never knew J outside of the emails I’ve read on this server, but I respect J for the quality of J’s work and the tenacity which J appeared to have pursued it.

I will be brief, and blunt, as you all need to know:

J is dead.

J has been dead for over three weeks. J was murdered by an unknown assailant who is still at large. You may not be safe. I have provided my callsign in the header of this email. if you have any questions concerning this matter you may look me up via your network and we can arrange a secure way to contact each other.

Again, you may not be safe. The contents of this database may have been compromised. I suggest that all of you relocate to somewhere off the grid. Good luck, and may Luna’s grace protect you all.
-SZ

14 - Departure

Chapter 14

Departure

“I heard the alarm! What’s going on!?
“I-I don’t know what caused it! One moment everything was fine and then suddenly everything went haywire!”
“Thirty-seven percent! Sir! We’re losing containment!”
“Throw the emergency failsafe!”
“I-it’s not working! Oh goddesses... we just lost the sun!”
“We're going to die... we're all going to die.”
-3339 EC. Talisman disaster claims Equestria Prime.

“And done!” Tickintime declared as she gave the panel a smart tap. The holo projector sputtered in and out, coughing up a brief visual of its startup sequence before finally settling into a quiet, steady hum as it flared to life, drowned out by the cheers everypony present. It was day two of our journey, and Tick’s makeshift receiver marked the end of a great deal of boredom. The collection of holos I had bought turned out to be short lived, more due to consternation than a lack of activity. It turned out that the corny martial arts and action flicks I had picked up were in the grocery’s bargain bin for a reason, and frankly, weren’t as funny as I thought they would be. Not to mention some weird, fetishized romance movie that somehow snuck its way into the mix. Granted, they were fun to make fun of at first, but after enduring three extremely terrible movies we concluded that the rest were probably just as bad and deserved the fate they received a few minutes later, involving lasers and what I’m just going to call team-building exercises. On the bright side, my aim improved! I guess I just needed the right motivation. Though not before Tick made sure I was hitting something relatively similar to a target and not the ship’s bulkheads.

After the holos had been exorcised. The ship returned to the bored quiet I had been fearing since the start of the trip. Sure, destroying the holos had been funny for the first ten or twenty minutes, but after hour two, we all sort of realized that we might have made a terrible mistake.

Except for the chick flick. We all sort of agreed to never speak of that one again.

In the ensuing boredom, Tick had the brilliant idea to feed a comm line down into the living area, planning to connect it to the holo projector if only to get us a source of the galactic news and a link to the M-Net. She scored one out of two. Sadly we couldn’t transmit since the holo lacked any real interface, but it did pick up some of the random channels that were floating around, and really, when you’ve got access to the Net, what more do you need? Too bad the next jump would take us beyond the repeater range.

“Nice work, Tick,” I said, eagerly flipping through the channels with my WAND. So far, no dice, just a channel selling jewelry, and static.

“Thanks! I do my best.” Tick responded cheerfully, packing up her toolbox and hefting it alongside her in her magic.

“I’ll say, and here I thought I was going to miss my soap,” Jess said.

“You watch soaps?” Nightshade asked skeptically, poking his head up from the small tin of mash he was eating.

The white pegasus merely smiled. “They entertain me,” Jess said.

I kept flipping channels. “So, the next jump is out of beacon range, anything you guys want to see before we lose our new toy?”

“Do we pick up popular mechanics?” Tick chimed in, taking a seat on the couch and suddenly wincing. The couch must have said hello. She turned and frowned at the rogue piece of furniture, before adjusting her position and settling back down, albeit a bit more wary.

I flipped a few more channels, pausing on a couple of news broadcasts, and storing the channel frequencies on my WAND. They would be useful later. “Dunno, most of what I’ve seen is static and… well, less than reputable news casts.”

Tickintime sighed, “Well it was worth a shot. Still, I could probably strengthen the connection next time we enter a port. I’ll have to do some work on the comm suite outside, but I should be able to get something working with the right parts.”

“You don’t have what you need from that mess in the cargo hold?” Nightshade asked, cleaning his face with a napkin, and tucking it inside the open tin.

Tickintime shook her head. “I’d need special equipment, I can’t just go poking into the comms willy-nilly. Not unless you want mark us as hostile to every ship in sensor range.”

“Point taken,” Nightshade relented.

“Wait! Wait! Go back!” Jess suddenly called. I stopped flipping channels and went back a few. The broadcast solidified into a picture of a beach and an hourglass narrated by some buck in the background.

“Eeee!” Jess squealed, jumping onto the couch beside me. “We do get my soaps!”

Everypony groaned.

“Yeah, have fun with that,” Nightshade said, getting up and throwing his tin into the makeshift garbage can—another Tickintime special—that had been set up next to the fridge.

“I’m going to go check on the pilot cabin,” I said, capitalizing on the opportunity to avoid wasting an hour in the grips of daytime television. Extracting myself from between two eager mares, I hurriedly made my way out of the room before I started drowning in sap.

***

“Hello, beautiful, it’s been a long time.”

I lovingly traced my hooves around the ship’s controls while I finished strapping myself in. The blinking lights and chirping sensors of the Scrap Bandit’s cockpit were like music to my ears as I finally settled into the pilot’s chair for what felt like the first time in weeks. It was plush, or at least in comparison to the harness that used to sit in its place. Sighing contentedly, I took in the sights and sounds with a sort of reverence that only a real pilot could understand. Thinking back to a time before I had my own ship almost gave me nostalgia. Almost. It’s hard to miss a stinking pile of crap.

Regardless, it felt right, sitting there. I was finally flying my ship. My ship. Well, jumping it anyway. Typically, when you’re on a long journey there’s really not much ‘flying’ done. Most of your time is spent doing diagnostics or other inane tasks while the Sparkle Drive cools down, tasks which I had grown particularly fond of over the years, despite everything they normally entailed.

“You know, I think I’m beginning to understand what my parents saw when I got my first engineering kit,” somepony said. I leaned around the seat to face the sky blue unicorn behind me. Tickintime wore an amused smile, still wearing her drab engineering overalls and hefting a small wrench in her magic.

“Do you ever knock?” I said, feigning offense, “I’m having a moment here.”

“I know, the googoo eyes were a dead giveaway,” Tick laughed.

“Get tired of Jess’ soaps already?” I asked with a smirk.

“Nah, It’s a rerun, It played in the Core just last week.” Tickintime shrugged, and then pulled open a panel with her TK. “Besides, I wanted to get a little more work done on my project in the cargo bay.”

“What is that anyway?” I asked. Before our movie binge, she had been assembling something with the parts she bought in the cargo hold. I stopped in to watch at one point, marveling at the way her magic could peel off the steel sheets and bend them into the shapes she needed. Whatever it was, it was round… ish, almost orb-like, save for the bits that weren’t… uh… orb-like. You know what, nevermind.

“Oh! I’m trying to build a little medibot! I figured since we don’t really have any doctors aboard, we could probably use the added help.” Tick said, levitating out a small tool she had left inside the panel and then closing it with a soft clack. “That, and I really can’t tell what kind of trouble you ponies typically get into, so it pays to be cautious.”

I blinked. “Well, you’re full of surprises.”

She shrugged. “Not really, I used to work on them for the ponies in Medical. You’d be surprised how many clients a little circuitry expertise can get for you,” Tick smiled, tucking her tools back into her barding. “Anyway, I’m heading back down. Have fun romancing the throttle,” She giggled.

“Oh, laugh it up,” I called back as she left, the door closing quietly behind her. Taking a deep breath, I settled into a more comfortable position in my chair, my wings flaring momentarily as I adjusted my balance. Connecting my WAND to the control deck, I hooked into the last few nodes I needed for a complete interface.

“Go time,” I said, rapidly flicking switches and starting a full systems test. Thrusters, green; Main power, also green; drone control, no, that was still offline; many of the new systems read green, including the new turrets, which were still set to manual. I bristled at that, but it couldn’t be helped. I didn’t trust the Bandit to auto-acquire just yet. The back-up grid was now online; Sparkle Drive in good condition; communication suite all in order, minus the small glitch that had just been introduced. Navigation was online and optimal. One by one, the remaining systems all reported green. With a big smile, I opened up the sensor suite and started scanning the readouts.

We were in open space, and had been for the last few jumps. Jess had switched with me for cabin duty after we left the PC, leaving me in charge of the jumps while she got a few more hours of rest in. In our small pocket of space, there was absolutely nothing around, no debris, no asteroids, no other ships, just, nothing. I would have to do some math, which I hated, but it didn’t look like I’d get an accurate sense of the Bandit’s current capabilities any other way.

Easing up the throttle, I tested a short burst on the thrusters first. The ship rumbled forward, the motion marked only by the changing coordinates in my readout. Hooking my WAND into the nav feed, I started plotting the progress we were making into one of the many programs I had picked up to help with navigation, particularly the system diagnostics. I smiled at the results.

The thrusters were working beautifully. In her spare time, Tick had done a little optimization on the control node, and as a result, halved the response time. Sadly, the thrust had suffered. With the new systems that Nightshade had installed came new mass. They might have worked faster, better, and stronger, but now they were pushing more. My smile tempered by the numbers I was getting, but ultimately I brushed it off. A moving ship was better than a broken one.

Pitching up, I felt the G’s build as I pulled the Bandit into a slow climb and roll. The positioning thrusters worked just as well as before, sans a few.hiccups with the newly mismatched systems, I made a note to tell Tick about that later. Closing my eyes, I let myself drift a moment before finally levelling back off on my original trajectory and killing my momentum. The ship lurched, but held wonderfully. My satisfied grin lasted until a white pegasus came barreling through the cabin door.

“ARE YOU QUITE DONE?” Jess yelled, a wild twitch in her eye, and her uniform visibly wrinkled.

“I’m checking the capabilities of my ship. I haven’t had a chance to do this since… well it’s been a while. It is standard procedure, you know.” My confident smirk made the bitter look on her face twist a little more to my divine satisfaction.

Her grimace turned to dismissal. “Fine, whatever, just give me some warning before you start doing that again, I nearly got skewered by that damn couch of yours thanks to that little stunt.” She rubbed a spot on her side where the couch had said hello.

“Yeah, it takes some getting used to,” I admitted.

“I think the floor was more comfortable than that smelly old thing,” Jess muttered. “How long ‘til the next jump?” she asked.

I checked my readout on the Sparkle Drive before answering. “About ten minutes,” I said. “After this we’re on our own. The emergency beacon won’t be able to reach any repeaters.”

Jess nodded solemnly. “I’ll tell the others. Let us know before you punch it; I like my lunch where it is.”

“No promises,” I returned.

“So much for my soap,” I heard her mutter as the door shut behind her.

I returned to the controls and settled in for the remaining flight.

*****

The novelty didn’t last. It had been weeks since the last time I had actually been in the pilot, and I had forgotten just how boring it was to be in there. That wasn’t even the worst part. The constant ping and beep of the control board was something of a novelty, but after the first few hours it went from new and interesting, to piercing screech of ear-death that repeated every two minutes or so. Yes, or so. I’m pretty sure the system still had some optimizations left, because the ping of the scanners never took the same time twice. This hadn’t been a problem before the bandit was fixed, there was no air for it to matter. Now, it was like one of those friends who wouldn’t shut up and always thought of the exactly wrong thing to say at the right time.

Thank Luna that it was finally over. I powered the Sparkle Drive for our final jump and sat back, eye twitching as the scanner once again mocked me. With a set frown I watched the readout on the Sparkle Drive’s charge slowly rise, anxiously hoping that we’d be able to jump before that accursed ping sounded again.

Seventy-five percent. Eighty-five. Ninety.

PIING

“Final Jump,” I said over the intercom, somehow managing not to scream obscenities at the top of my lungs. Not hesitating a moment longer, I punched it.

One bright flash and sickening lurch later, my WAND chirped.

Navigation complete.

I blew out a long raspberry, slumping in my seat as I more perfectly melted into the pilot’s chair.

Yup, another day in paradise.

PIING

Fuck you, ship.

Nightshade did not look happy. “You know, Officer, I’m pretty sure keeping an entire season of that stupid show on your WAND isn’t part of your standard procedure.”

Jess looked smug. “You enjoyed it and you know it,” she said, “besides, it’s not just one season.” The look of dawning horror on Nightshade’s face was one I would remember for a while.

“Reruns,” Tickintime explained with a shrug, “it turns out she’s loaded with em.”

I shook my head, and set the sensors to active. “Let’s just see what’s out there.”

The scan only took a few seconds. We were off target, but still within a short burn from our objective, whatever it was. It was also behind us. Trundling the maneuvering thrusters, I set the ship in an easy turn and then leveled off once I was sure I was lined up with target, or at least according to the sensors, we couldn’t really see anything in the current light.

“Hey Nightshade, could you kill the cabin lights?” A grunt and a click was the only response I got. Immediately, the cabin descended into a red-lit darkness. I gave the main thrusters a gentle nudge, and then squinted to find my target while I waited for my night vision to adjust.

We were in a pocket of empty space, far from any nearby stars. The four of us stood in relative silence as we peered out the viewport, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever it was we were there to find. After a few minutes of searching I finally caught a glimpse of its outline.

“I think I see it.” I said, alerting the others.

“Where?” Nightshade asked, his eyes flicking around the dark.

“Outline, small dark patch in the stars over there,” I said. “Down six, third quadrant.”

“I see it.” Jess replied immediately, “What’s our distance?”

“Scanner says fifteen.” Kilometers, by the way. Some of the instruments on the Bandit use different systems of measurement. It gets really annoying. Confuses the hell out of me, too, especially since I have to keep bouncing between them. I blame Junkyard for that one. ”Though, knowing the scanner it could be anywhere from five to fifty.”

“I still don’t see it,” Nightshade said, squinting in the dark.

“If it’s any consolation, neither do I,” Tickintime replied.

Pegasus vision at its finest.

“I’ll bring us in closer. You’ll see it soon enough.” I gunned the engines, now confident enough in my position to avoid ramming anything. A few minutes later we were well within visual, even if the ship was still too dark to make out against the starfield. I slowed our forward movement, bringing us into a slow float toward the target while we all got a better look at it.

Dark and unrecognizable against the starfield, the mass of the… thing, stood out on the field like an ink stain on a black dress. It was large, that much I could tell, not quite as large as the cargo ship Nightshade had dragged me out on, but certainly approaching its size. Smaller details slowly became visible as we closed the distance. The flash of slowly tumbling debris, hanging around its port side indicated some type of weapons damage, and while we couldn’t see the specifics, the cloud of stray wreckage grew little by little as we got a better angle on the ship. When we had closed the distance, I kicked on the spotlight.

There was a collective intake of breath.

“Holy… wow.” Tickintime, muttered.

Spotless. Granted, the ship had been inarguably destroyed, but what remained still looked like it had a lot of kick in it. The damage to the ship had been primarily superficial from the looks of things. What was really interesting, however, was the shape.

“What the fuck is this thing?” I muttered, tilting my head sideways and squinting.

The design was unlike anything I had ever seen before in my salvaging career. It lacked the graceful curves the horn heads preferred or the stalwart plating of the earth empires. It sure as hell wasn’t a pegasus ship, the angles were all wrong. It didn’t look like it was built for aesthetics, more utilitarian function with a little form thrown on top, but it did look old. Really old.

“I’ve only seen this kind of design in textbooks,” Tickintime muttered absentmindedly.

“You’ve seen this before?” I asked, curious.

She shook her head, “I’m not sure.”

I swung the spotlight back and forth over the hull, casting odd shadows where a piece of debris floated in the way. Something caught my eye as it passed and the light brushed against something black and twisted. I snapped it back onto the object.

It was a repeating cannon, blasted horribly out of shape, and much, much too large for a civilian craft.

“That’s no cargo barge,” I said, quickly discovering two more of the blasted turrets.

“That’s a battleship,” Jess finished.

Tickintime suddenly gasped. “Back! Go back!”

I brought the spotlight back to the area in question, squinted, and then saw it. The ship’s emblem. It was badly scorched, but near the center I could faintly make out a light and a dark object orbiting a purple star.

Tickintime’s jaw dropped wide enough to drive a car through. “Tha… th- that...”

“You recognize that?” Jess asked Tick.

“That’s the emblem of the old empire,” she responded breathlessly.

My eyes snapped open as I took another look at it. An old history lesson from my pilot training came to mind. Immediately, I started looking for the other indicators. Five more stars, surrounding the center, check. If I was a betting pony, I would have sworn that the blast mark was obscuring the text, 'Concordia Aeternum'.

Frantically, I started running scans. The minutes we waited for the result dragged on forever. When I finally got the result, I took a deep breath.

Perfect. Perfect condition. Despite significant damage to the hull, the inside was squeaky clean, and even had some faint traces of power. The plating obscured most of the scans, but from what I could tell, the ship was in great shape, for salvaging, anyway. No wonder Junkyard wanted this so bad. A find like this could be worth some serious bits. The question remained, though, how did he find it?

“Fuckin’ hell, Junkyard,” I muttered under my breath.

“We have got to get on board that thing,” Tickintime said. A chorus of agreement followed.

Easing off the engines, I brought us into a careful park as close as I would dare.

“Suit up,” I said.

*****

We stood in silence as we put the finishing touches on our gear, crowded into the Bandit’s airlock, with helmets on and nerves high. I slipped my last of the plasma cutters into my suit storage, while I fought off the niggling sensation of wrongness worming its way through my confidence. I set my jaw to chase it away, and checked the straps on my pistol one final time. This time there would be no chances. I raised my foreleg to check the sight against one of the walls, drawing an eye from Tickintime, as she finished adjusting the odd, bubble helm hooked into her utility uniform.

“Do you really think we’re going to need that?” Tick asked, glancing nervously at the weapon. I set my leg down, and turned my head and flashed her a smile.

“Probably not, but I’d rather be safe than sorry,” I said.

“Or dead,” Nightshade added, checking his own weapon before sitting down on the floor.

Tick grimaced, passing Nightshade an uncertain glance before Jess intervened, nudging her with a wing.

“Don’t let the grouch get you down, girl, I’m sure we’ll be just fine,” Jess said. “It’s not like we have to worry about the crew or anything. Maybe some automated defenses, if even that. We’ll be in and out in no time.”

“If you say so…” Tick said, looking away.

“If you’re having second thoughts—” I offered.

“No! no. I’m... um, I’m good.”

With a final nod to the others, I took my position next to the airlock control. “Door opens in, five.” I announced, securing the interior side of airlock. Everyone checked their seals, and then settled back down into position.

“Four. Three.” I hovered over the release control, glancing over at Tickintime who gave me a small nod.

“Two. One. Zero.” I pushed the button. A loud clang sounded as the door locked in place, followed by a dying whoosh as the air in the chamber cycled out. I turned to face the outer hatch and waited for the light to turn green while the other ponies shuffled in position. Ten seconds. Twenty. Green. The hatch unlocked and Nightshade gave it a solid push. Moments later, the gravity disengaged and we all made clambered out onto the Bandit’s hull.

“So, any idea what we’ll find in there, Salvager?” Nightshade asked, casting a wary glance at the dead battleship looming ominously above us. I had parked us as close as I dared to the wreckage, and this time, made extra sure to account for any possible drift. The last thing I wanted was to do yet another unassisted free float through dead space.Once was enough.

I smiled back at Nightshade, despite how pointless the gesture was with my helmet covering most of my face. “None whatsoever,” I said, “but if it’s good enough to get Junkyard excited, it’s probably valuable to somepony.”

“Oh we’ll find something valuable, alright,” Tick chimed in over the radio. She stood beside me on the hull, looking up at the ship with an expression I couldn’t quite place in the dark. “Old world tech is super valuable, heck just finding this ship is enough to warrant placement in a museum.”

“Sadly, museums don’t pay finder’s fees,” Nightshade casually replied. I nodded in agreement.

“Let’s get to it then,” I said, and then kicked off toward the behemoth above us.

My float was gentle. While keeping a wary eye on several shards of debris in my path, I managed to sail freely toward the wreck and land with a soft thump that I felt more than heard. Looking up, I saw Nightshade come in next, and land with the grace of a flying elephant. I felt that one too.

“I’m okay!” Nightshade called.

“Rookie!” Jess laughed as she landed gracefully behind him, with Tick just a few moments behind her. Landed, we spread out on the deck in a small circle.

“Alright, split up and look for entry points,” I called, pulling out one of the plasma cutters and loading it with a charge. “Airlocks, damage to the armor, anything that’ll get us in.” I slapped the charge home and the cutter powered up, the safety light flicking to green.

With a silent nod to everyone else, we all split up and started looking. Minutes passed. I scoured the underside looking for a chink in the ship’s armor, or an access hatch of any sort.

“Found something!” Nightshade called a few minutes later. Within a few seconds we were all standing next to him, Headlamps flashing over the small impression on the hull. I recognized it immediately.

It was an airlock, and from the looks of things, still operational, if barely. A small, orange control panel flickered weakly next to the frame. Reaching out with a leg, I gave it a press.

The door hitched, pressing into the surface of the ship, while venting a small amount of gas into space. With a jerk, it slid open with a final, mighty effort before catching on the frame and getting stuck halfway. Nightshade and I helped it along, forcing it open just far enough to fit the rest of us before we all piled inside. Once inside, we all got comfy as Jess sealed the door behind us.

The small, dimly lit airlock felt a little cramped with all of us inside it. If I was a betting pony I would wager that it was used as a maintenance port, though the lack of any utility lockers or tool boxes shed some doubt on my theory. I stood next to the door, craning my neck around as I looked for the interior pressure controls as other headlamps bobbed around searching for the same. After some awkward shifting, I found the button on a panel next door, with what looked like warning text written in illegible old Equish. I prodded button to cycle the air and was greeted by the oh-so-comforting hiss of oxygen filling the chamber. I made a quick environmental scan with my WAND’s analyzer. A few moments later I had my report.

“The air’s clean,” I said, touching the release on my helm. My helmet came off with a click, caught in my WAND’s TK. I took a sniff and grimaced, “if a little stale.”

Nightshade was the next to release his helm, tucking it under the crook of his foreleg. “Thank Celestia, I can’t tell you how much I detest these things,” he complained.

“Eh, you get used to it,” Jess said, removing her own, and then sniffed the air and recoiled, “Ugh, it smells like a locker room in here.”

“Centuries of stale air will do that,” Tick replied, eyeing the lamp flickering overhead.

With a rapid, triple beep, the cycle finished, the interior door unlocked. Nightshade grabbed the handle with his legs and turned, disengaging the locking system with a hearty clunk. With a soft whine, the door slid open and we all shouldered our way into the hallway beyond.

“Well, this is disappointing.” Tick said, her headlamp flashing down the corridor.

It was an ugly sight, to be honest. Where the exterior looked perfect, the inside of the ship looked battleworn. Years of stale air had taken their toll on the more corrodible surfaces inside the wreck. Rusted steel beams sat next to pristine plastic paneling as we filed in one by one, finally sealing the door behind us. As the door clicked, an emergency light flickered weakly to life in the ceiling. illuminating what little we could see of the area in weak pulses of reddish orange light.

“Spooky.” Jess muttered as she looked at one of the rusted braces. “How old do you think this thing is?”

Tickintime spoke up first. “Well, if the emblem is anything to go by, this ship could be anywhere from eight to ten centuries old. Or, at least, that would be my first guess. It might be older, but it’s really hard to say without doing some testing. The old empire was around for millennia before the Collapse.”

“Huh,” I muttered, flashing my headlamp around the corridor.

“Okay Horizon, you’re the veteran salvager here,” Jess remarked, “what should we do first?”

I thought for a moment, glancing an odd dark patch on the floor. “This ship is pretty big, I say we should split up to cover more ground. If this ship really is centuries old, then we shouldn’t have to worry about finding anything alive in here.”

“And we’re too far from the major space lanes to worry about pirates,” Jess added, nodding to herself.

“Makes sense, I guess,” Nightshade replied uncertainly. “Though I’m not too fond of wandering around a dark and forbidding derelict by myself.”

“That is a stupid idea… isn’t it,” I admitted.

“Ya think?” Tickintime drawled.

“Fine, pair up then. Pick a ship section and start searching for anything valuable. Whatever Junkyard was after has to be around here somewhere.”

“Junkyard was an info broker. It’s probably information,” Nightshade offered.

I nodded, “Look for terminals then. Tablets, cargo manifests—” I added with a sidelong glance at Nightshade, “—anything. The sooner we find it, the sooner we can figure out a way to cart it all back home.”

“I can try to get the power online,” Tick offered, “It should at least give us some light to work with.”

“I’ll escort her.” Jess offered. “It‘ll spread the combat experience around a bit.”

“I’m not helpless, you know,” Tickintime huffed.

“True, but I’m very willing to bet I’m a much better fighter than you’ll ever be,” Jess replied with a smug grin.

Tickintime rolled her eyes. “Fine. Whatever, Mom.”

“Okay then,” I said as Nightshade trotted up beside me. “I guess Nightshade and I will head to the bridge first and then, once the power’s on, we can spread out and see what we can find.”

After a round of agreement, we all went our separate ways.

*****

The dark hallways of the battleship proved no more inviting than when we had first stepped through the airlock. As the two of us made our way toward the bridge thanks to the helpful ship maps posted throughout the main corridors, I couldn’t help but notice the decay along the way. The rusted beams only got worse as we entered one of the more humid corridors, a steam pipe had burst some odd years ago and turned most of the corridor an ugly rust red. Our progress from that point on slowed to a crawl. Some of the passageways had lost power, forcing us to slowly pry open the doors with the manual override. Of course it also didn’t help that we stopped twice to check a supply closet or two along the way, but aside from a weird brass mop and a janitor’s purple jumpsuit, we didn’t find anything useful. Overall the trip took far longer than I would have liked.

We finally stopped just outside the door to the bridge, silently glancing at each other in the flashlit semi-dark before manually cranking the final door open.

“This is Horizon, we’ve reached the bridge,” I called over the comm.

A slight crackle answered me, “We’ve just reached engineering as well,” Jess replied, “I’ll let you know if we can get the power up.”

“Copy,” I replied.

“Remind me why I’m doing this?” Nightshade said with his hoof in the wall as he fumbled on the floor to get the door ajar.

“Because I did the last four,” I replied evenly. Nightshade merely grumbled his response as he gave the crank a final turn. The door finally stopped, wide enough to allow us passage. Without hesitating, I shouldered my way in.

A red emergency light flickered above the main room, casting everything in a foreboding hue as it dutifully pulsed under its own weak power. Small particles of dust lit up as the beams from our headlamps cut through the air while we emerged onto the lower floor of a two level room. A bank of consoles lined the curving exterior wall, the old seats around them vacant and in various states of decay while a steep ladder led to the upper level, a round, central platform that overlooked the main control deck, and had a sweeping view of the outside space through the massive viewport stretching from one wall to the other. Figuring that was where the Captain’s chair would be, I flapped my wings and set myself down on the upper deck. I was a little disappointed.

It was a surprisingly humble thing. Save for a few extra controls, the Captain’s chair looked nearly identical to those on the lower deck, amplified in importance only by the small monitors braced around it, which once upon a time, probably held an at a glance report of everything on the ship. The monitors were positioned above the head of the pony sitting there, high enough to avoid obscuring the view, but low enough to still be readable. Well, readable if any of them were active.

The romantic in me started kicking in as I looked over the scene in its entirety, trying to imagine what it must have looked like in its heyday. I pictured ponies sitting in the seats on the lower deck, and the Captain standing where I was, probably dealing with some dramatic world-ending threat. Or not, considering that the wars in pony history had been few and far between. We were more likely to ignore each other than go to blows. I took a deep breath as the image faded, leaving me with the sterile, worn out and empty reality it became—dead screens and all.

I opened the comm line for an update. “Jess, what’s the status on that power?”

“Give me some time dammit! We’ve only just got here you know?” Tick replied irritably. “I’m still trying to diagnose the problem. Give me, like, five minutes, okay? Ugh, where did they put those capacitors?”

The line closed.

“Something is bothering me.” Nightshade remarked as he looked at one of the empty seats, and what looked like carbon scoring on the floor next to it.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“This ship was attacked, obviously, but where are the bodies? I would think if there was an attack there would at least be something here. Blood. Anything.”

I raised an eyebrow. That was a good question.

“Maybe they evacuated?” I suggested, “I don’t think it’s too far a stretch to think that the ponies were able to get out unharmed.”

“True, but, why leave? This ship doesn’t look it took that much damage. It’s still got air, so obviously the life support hasn’t failed, and I don’t think if they got help they would have simply left a perfectly good battleship out in the middle of nowhere.”

It was another good point. The damage seemed to be superficial for the most part, aside from having its armament wiped out. Well, and centuries of neglect, but they couldn’t help that. “Hey Jess?” I called again, and waited for a reply.

Jess was on the line momentarily. “What’s up?”

“Have you found any bodies on your way to the engineering section?” I asked.

A moment of silence followed, answered with a sudden crackle, “Come to think of it, no, why?”

“We’ve been seeing what looks like weapons fire on some of the walls here, but we haven’t found anything else. Have you seen any on your end?”

“Come to think of it, yeah, I’ve been seeing that around as well, give me a sec to take a better look at it and I’ll get back to you.”

“Thanks,” I replied.

I glanced up at the ceiling, spotting another charred patch by a small vent. Nightshade spotted it too, and stared at it for a long moment before regarding me with growing concern.

“Seems a bit of a weird place to shoot, don’t you think?” Nightshade said.

I looked at the floor next to me, spotting yet another char mark. “Yeah, seems we’ve got ourselves a bit of a mystery here.” A possibly centuries old mystery, though more than likely, it would be little more than a novelty from our perspective. Maybe I’d have a good chuckle about this with some buddies in a few years. I snorted at the thought, hunched over a few drinks regaling other pilots of my harrowing adventures, ‘Did I ever tell you about the time...’

The S-band crackled back to life, “Alright, I’m seeing a lot of weapons fire here and there, but it looks like it’s mostly concentrated around the engine room. Some of the corridors have them too, but so far they haven’t been as common. I’m guessing there probably wasn’t much traffic in them around the time the fight started.

“There’s a pattern to them too. Whoever was shooting—”

“—wasn’t shooting at eye-level?” I finished for her.

“Yeah, you’ve noticed too, huh?” Jess replied.

“There’s one on the ceiling,” I said.

“Maybe some kind of flier then?”

“Or a crawler,” Nightshade suggested.

“Keep a lookout for more, I guess. Second question, Jess, are there any escape pods near you? I’d like to confirm if the crew made it off or not,” I asked, while looking down at Nightshade, who was inspecting a loose vent on the floor.

“We passed a few of them on the way here, I’ll go see if they launched. Tick, I’ll be right back.” I faintly heard Tick’s response as the line closed.

“Something cut through this vent,” Nightshade said. Hopping off the command deck, I flitted down to his position and set down next to him, craning my neck down for a better look. Sure enough, three of the screws securing it had been sliced through, the remaining one malleable enough to bend freely out of the way of anything coming out of it with little effort.

“Well that doesn’t bode well,” I muttered, testing the vent with my WAND’s TK. Working it back and forth, the metal made a soft squeaking noise, distinct, but quiet enough to be ignored in a busy workspace. I trained an eye on Nightshade, who returned my glance with wary confirmation.

“Okay, I found the escape deck,” Jess announced over the S-Band a few moments later, “...that’s weird.”

“What’s wrong?” I called.

“They’re all here.”

Nightshade and I shared a look.

“Are you sure about that?” I asked.

“Yes. They’re literally all here. Not a single pod’s been fired.”

“Give me a sec, I want to check something,” I responded, ducking back to one of the doors to check the ship directory. I traced through it to find the engineering room and the pods Jess had indicated. In short order I had confirmed my fears. There was only one escape deck, and Jess was in it.

If no one had left the ship, where did the ponies go?

“Alright, this is getting weird.” I said. “Where are the ponies? If nopony got off there should be dead bodies, debris, something.”

“Maybe whoever attacked them took hostages?” Jess replied, “I’ll keep looking on my end, and see if I can’t find anything else.”

Just then, the lights on the bridge flashed, and then flickered to a more comfortable level. I winced as my eyes adjusted to the sudden change.

“I got it!” Tick cheered, “Power’s on! Score one for the gear-master!”

Nightshade’s head suddenly drooped. “Looks like I owe Jess a few bits,” he muttered.

“You bet against her?” I asked with a laugh, “I thought you said your special talent was sensing fate?”

Nightshade rolled his eyes. “Fate and chance are two different things. Besides, my ability isn’t perfect, it’s just right most of the time.” He coughed. “When it matters.”

“Right,” I smirked.

I switched off my headlamp. Some of the lights remained dead, but what was left was more than enough to light the entire room. Then, I looked up, and stopped.

“Whoah.”

Limited by the headlamps, I didn’t really have a real understanding of the true scale of whatever battle had been waged here. Now, I had no doubt. Several patches on the ground and walls had been coated completely black by the carbon scoring of weapons fire, all at odd angles and some ruining a workstation or two. Most of it seemed concentrated around small openings in the walls and floor, especially vents. The ceiling in particular was a mess of black splotches, some with particular star-like shapes cut out of them.

“Jess, what do you see on your end?”

“More scoring, a lot more scoring. There was definitely a fight here, but against what I can’t really tell.”

“That’s what I thought. Find Tick, stick together and keep searching. I don’t like this.”

Jess called an affirmative and the line cut.

By the time I turned back to what we were doing, Nightshade was already working on a console, his eyes scanning one a screen, before grunting irritably and moving to the next. I hopped back up to the Captain’s chair and its controls. Pleasantly surprised to find the node to the ship’s main computer wide open. Connecting with my WAND, I started scanning for whatever files I could see.

A list of documents began populating my feed, and I started scrolling through them. Most of it was mundane. Ship maintenance reports, multiple disciplinary records for certain crewponies, personnel rosters, medical reports, I spent the better part of five minutes skipping through the files for things of interest, and logging everything for later review. I smiled when I hit the Captain’s log. That was a prize in itself. At the very least it should have information of why they were out here, and maybe some info on any relevant information on what had happened. Sadly, the log had no remote access and it was locked to the Captain’s private terminal.

Sighing, I turned to Nightshade. “Nightshade, I need to check out the Captain’s quarters really quick, I think I found a document that might help us out.”

Nightshade mumbled something without turning to look, too engrossed in what he was doing to care. I took it as an affirmation and walked through the door leading onto the command deck. I entered a short hallway, which according to the my WAND’s map led straight over the crew barracks and connected to the wardroom. The single door leading off the hallway led straight into the captain’s quarters, which, with a quick press of a button, slid neatly open.

I smiled as I entered what looked to be a very nicely furnished room. The room had a plush royal blue carpet flooring, a large wooden desk with a cherry finish, and a pile of paper documents on top. Some of the documents matched the reports from the list I had just seen. A small cigar sat upended next to its holder on the desk, next to a small, opened package of tobacco.

Looking for a computer, I found a working node in the small tablet on the desk and connected, taking a seat in the captain’s chair and idly scrolling down to find the latest entries in the Captain’s log while rifling through the desk drawers for anything useful. I was nearly through the third drawer when I found the first interesting file:

Mission Report: Investigation of Facility 45191.

I stopped my browsing, and stared for a second. Licking my lips, I opened it.

Captain Icewind Moor, HMS Valiant, 07153338
Subject: Investigation Report on Logos Facility

I have completed my investigation into the activity at the abandoned research facility in [REDACTED] and I am afraid to confirm that your suspicions were correct. There was indeed a break-in at the old labs. Automated records indicate the removal of several projects after the initial destruction of the facility in 2561, including large portions of the surviving infrastructure, which according to records had been previously ruled unsalvageable. Nearly the entire facility has been ripped from the ground. All functioning machinery has been removed and what little we could salvage from the facility’s remaining computers consists of little more than old surveillance tapes of the facility’s projects as well as a few requisition orders for supplies and other materials. This is not to say that we did not find something, however.

During our investigation, we did turn up a supply of odd spider-bots which we took in for analysis. From the equipment mounted on their hardpoints, we believe that the bots may have used in the salvaging effort of whoever had the facility stripped. Several of the machines were found littering the facility in various states of repair. We took a few apart and didn’t find anything unusual, most of the tech within them appears to be a holdover from the other projects that had been running while the facility was still in its prime. Records do not, however, explicitly list the bots as part the official projects. I’ve got my scientists working on several theories for their origin, as well as continuing to dissect them for their purpose.

Aside from the surveillance tapes, the surviving computers in the facility were either wiped clean, or destroyed. Whether this was done as a precautionary measure or maliciously remains to be seen, but despite their thorough efforts we were able to recover a small number of project recordings. Unfortunately, we were unable to ascertain just which project the videos belonged to as the information had been corrupted, but the revelations inside them were… disturbing.

I have documented the recordings in question in a storage cube and have secured them in my personal vault. As soon as we’re back home, I will present a full report on the issue in person.
-Captain Moor, H.M.S Valiant.

A personal vault? I smiled and looked around the room again for possible hiding places. I searched a few cabinets to no avail, behind picture frames, and even a wardrobe, until I finally noticed a small crease in the floor underneath the desk. Tugging on the edge with my WAND, I was pleased when the edge came up. Pushing the desk aside for a better angle I bent down to inspect the crease fully.

Thankful I hadn’t expended my cutter charge, I primed it and began working on the locks, being careful not to damage whatever might have been inside. After a few minutes of cutting, the door released, and I gingerly lifted it off with my WAND and set it to the side. Peering into the small chamber, I found my prize. Inside was a small rectangular box, black, with a matte finish that dully reflected the light of the fluorescent ceiling light. I pulled it out with my WAND, being careful not to bump it against anything as I brought it up to eye level.

I probed it with my WAND, willing it for details. The action proved useless. The box simply floated there, inert, and my WAND beeped an error.

No Interface Detected.

“Damn,” I said, frowning at the blasted thing. I’d have to look at it later. Stuffing the box and tablet into my pack, I returned to combing through the messages in the log, looking for more information.

“Aw, hey there little guy,” Tick suddenly said over the radio, “aren’t you just the cutest widdle thing!”

My train of thought grinded to a screeching halt. “Tick, what did you find?” I asked warily.

“Aw, nothing too special just this cute little bot that- Oh, she has friends…”

“Contact on the Bridge! three crawl-whoah!” Nightshade suddenly shouted over the sound of weapons fire. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”

“Guys? What’s going on? I… oh, fuck me like a filly.” Jess said.

“Krrrik?” I froze. That one was uncomfortably close by. Slowly I turned my head, searching for the source. The room looked empty, until I noticed the small, six legged spider thing looking up at me from the floor by the desk, with its set of eight flickering yellow eyes. It appeared to be damaged, with several of its legs black and twisted by weapons fire.

“Krik?” It chirped at me.

I stared. “Uh, heh... hi there?” I said back.

A small set of barrels extended from its jaws as its eyes turned an angry red and it sprang off the floor to the desk.

“Fuck!” I yelled, and flung the severed safe door at it. I missed by inches, the small bot flattening itself on the desk to dodge the blow before leaping at me, legs outstretched. I stumbled back, raised my pistol and fired, my eyes squeezing shut as the bot collided with me and I swatted it away. It sailed a few feet through the air before it hit the ground and rolled, bouncing back onto its spindly legs, and aiming its jaws at me. I dived behind the desk, in time to be showered by wooden splinters as several bullets ripped through the air and impacted the wall behind me with earsplitting cracks.

I chanced a quick glance at the impact. Two-inch needles had embedded themselves in the far wall, leaking fluid.

“KRRRRR!” The spiderbot had climbed back on the top of the desk, all four of its mandibarrels swinging toward me.

I raised my leg and fired again, this time catching it square in the face. The bot took it in the eyes, the impact sending it peeling to the side as it barrels sprayed needles wide, one errant spike pinning the tail guard on my suit to the floor. As it righted itself, I shot it again, this time with a dead-on hit. It careened backward, smashing against the far wall before stumbling around on the floor with a sizeable hole in its torso. It sparked, then exploded with a loud pop showing the room in metal shrapnel.

“Report!” Jess yelled over the radio. “Is anyone okay out there?”

“Little busy right now!” Nightshade called over the report of his weapon.

I heard Tick scream.

“Tick?” I called out. There was no response. “Jess! What’s going on out there?”

“I don’t fucking know! You tell me!” Jess screamed, “Gods... more of ‘em.”

Grimacing, I started working the needle pinning my tail to the floor out.

Tikataka tikataka

I looked up in time to see another spider bot peeking out of a floor vent.

“Alright, screw this.”

I shot the vent, twisting it off its hinge and into the bots eyes. It flinched, long enough for me to put two more shots into its body, and about six badly placed ones around it. Its leg weakly twitched around the vent, before falling limp to the ground. My pistol hissed at the extended fire, steaming a little as it cooled down. I checked it briefly before looking back at my hoofwork.

“Horizon? Are you still there?” Nightshade called, the sound of his heaving breaths audible over the radio.

“Yeah,” I said. With a final yank, I freed my tail from the floor. I brought the needle up for a quick glance before casting it aside, “I got pinned down in the captain’s quarters but I’m okay.”

“Great! Cause I’m headed your way.”

“Guys I just got back to engineering! We’ve got a mare down!”

Fuck.

Stumbling to the door, I opened it in time to see Nightshade come barreling into the hallway, sealing the door behind him and shooting the control. Several impacts rang in the air, as several more needles stuck their tips barely through the door and the sound of metal legs skittered beyond and upward into the ventilation shafts. Glancing up, he shot the corridor’s air vent, sealing it shut in time for a metal leg to poke through, before moving on ahead.

“Well, at least now we know what happened to the crew.” Nightshade said, warily plucking a still oozing needle out of his mane.

A loud thump sounded by the floor vent in the room behind me. The dead bot on the floor lurched as another set of legs fought to dislodge it from below.

“We need to leave. Now,” I said. Nightshade nodded and sped down the hallway into the wardroom. With a last glance into the captain’s quarters, I sealed the door and followed after him.

I opened the line again, “Jess, are you still with us?”

“Yes but-” The radio screeched as a loud shot rang out, overloading the microphone, “these damn things are everywhere!”

“How’s Tick?”

“She’s alive but unconscious, and it looks like she took a few of them with her. There’s a bunch of bots here that look like they were fri—Oh, COME ON!” Another shot rang out before the radio cut out entirely. Gritting my teeth, I entered the wardroom after Nightshade.

The first thing I noticed was the overturned table. Fancy cutlery and various other implements littered the floor next to a shattered vase and two dead spiderbots, the latter of which was still twitching on the floor. Nightshade crouched low next to a cabinet, and motioned me to position across from him.

“Get the door,” he ordered, wheeling about on another bot crawling out of a nearby ceiling vent. I rushed to the door and sealed it just in time for catch another bot by surprise, wedging it between the door and the frame. I shot it point blank, and kicked the dead husk back into the hallway, before pinging my WAND for a way back to engineering. Immediately tags started popping up in my field of view. Directions. First things first, we needed to go down.

“Okay, there’s a ladderwell down, two corridors away from here,” I told Nightshade, while he sealed vents one after another. “It looks like it leads straight past the barracks and into the crew mess. Should be a straight shot from there to engineering.”

Nightshade nodded, “Which way?”

I pointed at the the only door remaining in response. He nodded and moved over to it, bracing against the wall next to it, and readying his pistol before hitting the control. Together, we breached.

Mercifully, the corridor was empty. Not for long. We ran through as quickly as we could, passing doors and praying we wouldn’t have to crank any more. Wheeling around our final corner, Nightshade peeked in before waving me forward. We descended the ladderwell in uneasy silence. We entered the barracks.

Half the lights in the barracks were dead, some still flickering as they tried to overcome the damage they had taken from weapons fire. Nightshade led the way, weapon at the ready while we paced through the dead room, our pace quickening as the telltale scritch of metal on metal rapidly approached us from all sides. We didn’t even have time to seal entrances. Little bots started worming their way out of vents everywhere, crawling out from under beds, or even coming out from the ceiling, their yellow eyes multiplying by the droves with each passing second.

“Just run!” Nightshade yelled. We broke into a flat sprint, wheeling around a pair of chairs and knocking a small card table out of the way, just as the red angry glare that followed us started shooting needles.

A mug shattered behind me as it caught a needle dead on, fragments smashing against the wall amidst the whizzing of small projectiles.

“Come on! Come on!” Nightshade said as he beat the door control, and overturned a nearby bookshelf for protection. The door beeped and slid open, the two of us piling through it in time to see the bookshelf get overrun by a flood of the little monsters. A needle clearing the air above us before the door finally shut, followed by the staccato cracks of the bots’ final farewell.

We took two heaving breaths before continuing our sprint. Swearing up and down the corridors as we made a mad dash for engineering.

*****

We emerged onto a battlefield. Dead bots littered the floor in piles among shattered railings and fallen cables. Jess sat panting behind a makeshift barricade of steel chairs, peppered with so many needles that it looked like a large cactus. For a fleeting second I thought she was going to shoot us before she lowered her weapon and motioned us toward her position while keeping a wary eye on practically everything at once.

“There you are,” Jess called out. “I was beginning to think you didn’t make it.”

We settled in behind the barricade, Nightshade taking up a secondary firing position, while Jess gave the battleground another wary glance. I noticed Tickintime sprawled out the ground on the behind Jess, her sides heaving slowly. A few needles littered the ground around her, some freshly slicked with blood, intermixed with whatever poison the needles were laced with. Jess must have seen me looking, because she tore herself away from the barrier and put a hoof on my shoulder pad.

“She’s okay,” she assured me, “I found her over by that pile over there.” She pointed to a spot a few steps beyond the barricade. Blackened bots littered the floor in a wide circle where a large blast mark still glowed hot red and feathered at the edges. “She probably gave them one hell of a shock too.”

I smiled, though it felt more forced than genuine.

“There’s a safe spot further back,” Jess added, wiping a little bit of lather off her face, “It’s just a little deeper in, over in the gen room. Cover should be better there too. Follow me.” With a final glance over the barricade, she looped a foreleg around Tick and heaved her over her shoulder. I stepped up to help, supporting the weight in a partial carry while Nightshade brought up the rear. Together, we limped our way further into the gen room, ears flicking at the sound of the distant skittering in the background.

We settled down around the main generator, an electric buzz filling the air as we passed some unseen barrier that made my WAND go screwy. I felt my coat bristle, the little hairs on my neck standing on end in response to the raw, ambient energy pulsing from the glowing core above us. Jess and I set Tick’s unconscious body on the floor next to us. Nightshade made a spot check for vents, and once satisfied they were shut, sat facing the only exit, weapon ready.

“The bots have been avoiding this area. I think it probably screws with their sensors,” Jess said, visibly relaxing and tending to a small slash on her suit with a tube of epoxy. “I know it’s been screwing with mine,” The tube in Jess’ TK wobbled slightly.

“At least we won’t have to worry about a surprise attack,” I said, and then glanced back down at tick. The mare moaned, slurring something incoherent while staring vacantly at the ceiling lights with unfocused, dilated eyes. “She’s seen better days, I bet.”

“And she’ll probably have a bitch of a headache when she wakes up,” Nightshade said as he walked over. He very carefully sniffed one of the needles, before looking closer at the mare’s eyes. Chewing his cheek he thought for a moment. “Sedative,” Nightshade announced after examining her, “pretty weak too, by the looks of it. She should be back up in another hour or two.”

“Great,” I sighed. “So we’re just stuck here till she wakes up?”

“Pretty much,” Jess replied, sitting down next to the generator and checking her rifle.

The silence dragged.

“So… bad idea?” I asked.

Jess laughed, “Very.”

“Eh, could have been worse,” Nightshade said. At our looks he continued, “We could be exploding. Again.”

I laughed, “I think we might still have time for that.”

“Hey Horizon, sync your map with mine, I want to see if I can’t find us a way out once our little gearhead wakes up,” Jess said. I nodded and sent the map info to her WAND. It chirped, and Jess turned away, muttering to herself while she began looking over our position.

Setting myself down underneath a control board, I futzed with my calibration on my WAND while idly watching Tick’s chest rise and fall. Distantly, I could still hear the skitter of metal legs against the deck, but for now they seemed to keep their distance. We were safe, for now, but also trapped. Just like the cargo ship. I chuckled a little bit, thinking of the nostalgia.

“Every. Fuckin. Time.”

72% Remaining...

Author's Note

I'm posting this before I think better of it. It feels like every time I post one of these I find myself further questioning my qualifications for the job. Ah well. Do better next time. I hope you enjoy it.

15 - Battleship Blues

Chapter 15

Battleship Blues

“Princess, you can’t be serious! The Empire needs you! We’ll be leaderless!”
“These ponies need me more, Captain.”
“But the Empire-”
“-will have to rule itself, for a time. I’m not going to let millions of my people die. Not so long as I can prevent it.”
“But... how long will you be gone?”
“We will be gone until it is safe once again, Captain. Whether that day is tomorrow, or a thousand years from now, we shall return.”
-Aug 13, 3339EC. Princess Cadance seals the Crystal Empire amidst planetwide armageddon.

An uneasy silence hung over the three of us as we sat with our backs to the engine core, taking careful, measured glances into the room outside while we waited for whatever the damn spiders would throw at us next. The last hour and a half had been grueling. Caught between wave upon wave of opportunistic robots and our bottlenecked exit, we had successfully mounted a defense of the inner engine room thanks to the natural funnel the space provided. Unfortunately, it was also what was trapping us inside. Thank Luna we had energy weapons. If we had to use conventional rounds, we would have run out a long time ago.

Slumped over his pistol, Nightshade sighed, taking advantage of the calm to finish cleaning the weapon before taking another quick glance around the core's edge. “You know, this is the kind of quiet that I hate,” he said, quietly surveying the battlefield before slipping back down to safety. I was too exhausted to do anything other than nod.

Jess straightened, double checking the sight on her rifle before setting back up in her firing position. “At least we’re still alive,” She replied. Her eyes never moved from the entrance and settled into a seemingly hollow focus. It was a little unnerving, but by now I had grown used to it.

"For now," Nightshade muttered. With a clack and whine he finished cleaning his pistol and snapped the charge back into position. With a small crack of bones, Nightshade stretched his leg, before finally settling back into his own firing stance.

I simply stood in place, trying to ignore the pile of dead bots we had killed, while I kept my own weapon down range.

Her word was our saving grace. Jess was right when she said the spiders were avoiding the core. Experimentally, Jess and I had used our WANDs to yank one of the live ones into the energy field we were hiding in, and we were rewarded with a wonderful shower of sparks as the shitty little things exploded when they got too close. This is not to say the little bastards made it easy for us, though. I nearly took a dirt nap when a needle fired from one of the bots grazed my suit and tore a nice gash across my left shoulder. I had since patched it, but it was a close enough call to discourage any further experimentation. From that point onward, we settled on thinning their numbers, using our excellent position to pick off targets of opportunity.

The result was a long period of waiting. We were at an impasse. We were safe, but we were stuck. And I could swear the bots had somehow realized this as well, because for the last half-hour attempts on our position had stopped. We could still see them, easily, if we wanted to risk poking our heads out into the open. They simply waited for us outside, sitting in a nicely organized firing line, with all of their barrels trained on our only avenue of escape. That action alone gave me the shivers. It was spooky, enough so that I spent a great deal of time trying not to think about it. It was like they knew. I mean, logically, we could hold the engine room for hours. They couldn’t get too close because of the blessed energy field, so overwhelming us was out of the question, and by the way they seemed to stop multiplying, I figured that there weren't too many of them left on-board. We’d killed quite a few of the more adventurous bots, but after a tense hour of defense, they did something which, for an AI, I had never even heard of: They changed tactics. They had started conserving their numbers.

It was eerie. It was terrifying. It was like they knew. They knew we couldn’t leave the engine room. They knew they couldn’t assault our position. Even during what attacks there had been, each one had been a little different. They probed our defenses, sending little strike teams at different angles to see how we’d react. In the end, we sat in a mutual stalemate. Except we had a key weakness. No matter what, eventually we would have to leave. We had to eat. All they needed to do was wait, and as machines, they could do that forever. It was like they knew, and I found it terrifying to consider what kind of genius could have programmed them that way.

“Nnngh,” My ears shot up as the sound of Tickintime moans rose a few decibels. I risked a glance back down at the poor mare as she finally stirred and slipped a hoof out, uneasily pawing the air and cradling her head as she tried to clear her senses.

“Well, good morning, sweetheart,” I said.

Tick made a noise halfway between a sob and a groan. Her eyes fluttered open, still slightly dilated, and immediately squinted shut in the harsh light. Curling into a ball and shielding her eyes she moaned, “Why do I hurt everywhere?”

“You were hit,” Nightshade responded, taking his eyes off the entrance to address her. “The needles that penetrated your barding were laced with what used to be a powerful sedative. You’re lucky it’s had so much time to decay. You’re also dehydrated. Drink some water and you’ll be fine.”

“Sedative? How long was I out?”

“About an hour and a half,” I answered.

“It could have been longer,” Nightshade said in a matter-of-fact tone, “The mix was so old that it lost some of its potency. If that shit had been new, you might have been out for days, if you ever woke up at all.”

Tickintime shivered. “I guess I got lucky, huh?” she said.

“That’s putting it lightly,” Nightshade replied, “although ‘lucky’ isn’t exactly what I’d call our current situation.”

“Oh no, what happened? I mean, I sorta remember some weird bug things but, everything is still a little fuzzy,” Tick mumbled.

“While you were out,” Jess chimed in as she returned from her firing position, “we had to drag you into this room or else we wouldn’t have made it out. I could swear they’re being controlled, but by what I have no idea." Jess sighed. "These damn bots are just too fucking clever. They’ve been content to just let us sit here and wait us out.”

Tickintime whistled, “That’s a pretty impressive AI, if it worked all that out on the fly. I kinda wish I had time to study it.”

Jess snorted, “Good luck with that, last time we tried venturing past the field, Horizon here almost joined you,” she said, nudging her head in my direction.

“I’m starting to think I need to have a supply of fresh suits, at the rate I’ve been tearing through these,” I said, glancing down at the sealed rip on my shoulder. Tickintime looked at it with muted horror.

“At least he smells better now,” Nightshade added with a smirk.

“Oh, there’s a story I've gotta hear,” Jess said with a smile.

Nightshade shook his head. “Maybe later, if we can get out of this alive,” he replied, and then turned his attention back to Tickintime, “So, our brilliant and almighty engineer, good morning! We are pinned down inside a closed bottleneck with no escape and a virtually unstoppable army of robots waiting just outside. Oh, and they explode if they get too close to the energy field. Any ideas?”

Tick’s jaw worked soundlessly as the panic set in. “I… don’t even know where to start! Wait... field? what field?”

“You… can’t feel that?” I asked, noting the electric buzz that was currently putting the hairs on my mane on end.

Tickintime focused for a moment and her eyes widened. “Oh! oh… oh,” she laughed softly, “Sorry, there’s so much ambient magic that it's hard to pick it up out of the rest of it. I feel it now though,” her expression grew somewhat wistful, “the poor engine's containment field must be damaged.”

“We’re maybe minutes away from being turned into pincushions, and she’s concerned about the health of a centuries old engine,” Nightshade deadpanned.

Tick frowned, “Hey! I’ll have you know that proper ship maintenance is an important part of making sure your engines are healthy and happy!”

“And they have feelings now?” Nightshade replied, his smirk returning in full force.

Tickintime harrumphed. “They might as well. Don’t tell me you’ve never had to deal with a finicky part that just wouldn’t behave unless you treated it a certain way,” she gave Nightshade a once-over, “or in your case a pistol that wouldn’t shoot straight. I make sure to treat all of my machines with the care and respect they deserve, otherwise how could I ever expect them to perform when I needed them most?”

Wow, that… was actually a pretty reasonable argument. Although, if she was including the Scrap Bandit in that category I was pretty sure it was still a lost cause. Either way, Nightshade seemed to accept it, if grudgingly.

“Fine. But regardless, we’re still bucked if we don’t think of something soon. Eventually we’re gonna have to leave, and I’d rather do it on our terms than theirs,” Nightshade said.

Tick frowned, deep in thought, glancing between one of the scrapped spider bots and the glowing engine core. After a moment, she said, “Well, I think I have an idea of what’s causing them to malfunction, but I’ll need to crack one open to be sure. and if that's the case then, well...” she sighed, “You’re not going to like it.”

At least she was honest. “Lay it on me,” I said.

Tick’s smile strained. “I’m probably gonna need one of them intact.”

Oh, joy.

***

“Hold it still!” Tick cried, cautiously craning her neck around the edge of our cover for a better look.

“I’m trying!” Jess barked back, “the damn interference isn’t making this easy you know!” The spider in question rapidly flailed its legs trying to right itself, making little purchase against the nothing that contained it as Jess blindly floated it away from its companions and into the energy field. With a loud fizz and pop, its internal components detonated, marking the third one we had failed to safely retrieve. With a groan, Jess floated it next to the others, the now useless husk still wobbling in her already unstable TK.

“Lovely,” Tickintime drawled. With a bored look she floated the new husk up, rapidly disassembling it and glancing through each of the fried components, before tossing most of it aside with a groan of frustration.

“And that was the last one in my WAND’s range,” Jess announced with a groan, “I think they’ve figured out my range on this thing. That’ll be the last one we get for a while, unless of course you can grab things you can’t see?” she added, almost hopefully.

“Nope! Not my specialty,” Tickintime replied, tucking away the useable parts with the rest and carefully examining the new ones. She kept talking as she sorted through them, “Most unicorns need line-of-sight to use TK and I’m no exception. Ugh! Are you sure there aren’t any more good ones?”

“Positive. Unless you can find something useful from the pile of dead ones over there,” Jess said, nudging her head.

With a roll of her eyes, Tick floated several of the dead ones back to where she was seated, frowning as she took more and more of them apart.

“Can’t you make an educated guess?” Nightshade suggested, “I mean, they’re obviously going to explode if we try to get them closer, just being here means we won’t get them in one piece.”

Tickintime cradled her head in her hooves and groaned, dropping the remaining bots to the ground with a clack. “Look, I know! Okay? And, yes, I probably could make an educated guess, but if I’m wrong we could all die!”

Jess smirked. “That’s why they call it 'taking a risk', Sweetie.” Tick merely glared in response.

“Before we get ahead of ourselves, Tick, can you at least give us what you know so far?” I asked.

With a long, deep breath, Tickintime calmed herself down. Rubbing her chin with a booted hoof, she said, “Well, from what I’ve observed, they seem to have a flaw in their construction that causes them to explode when they come close to a sufficient power source, but that doesn’t tell us how much of an energy surge we would need to disable them, or how long we would need it to work for. And I can’t for the life of me figure out why they would in the first place!” Tick started pacing, “I mean, even the most traditional design philosophies still have things like energy dumps implemented in them. That’s why they can use a lot of robots to work on station cores and things like Sparkle drives. Furthermore they all use closed systems! Ambient energy shouldn’t aff- wait...”

With a sudden glow from her horn, one of the dead spiderbots was yanked from the pile, hanging lazily in front of Tick’s searching eyes. Once again, it slowly came apart piece-by-piece as tick sorted the pieces and started tearing it apart piece by piece. We all sat in silence watching her until by some revelation, her eyes widened.

“Whoah,” she muttered breathlessly.

The rest of us shared a glance. “Uh, care to clue us in?” I asked.

She blinked, “Uh y-yeah, j-just give me a moment.” She sorted through the rest of the bot’s wreckage, flipping over a few circuit cards before setting the pile aside.

“Well?”

“I’m not sure, how…” Tickintime trailed off, “but these bots, um… don’t have any power source. And I can’t seem to find a logic chip either.”

“In Equish, please,” Jess deadpanned.

Tick looked annoyed. “No brain. No power. Technically these things shouldn’t even move from what I’ve seen. Unless, whoever made these things was super clever and put them…” She blinked, and then smacked her head with a hoof. “Oh, duh. That would explain everything!”

We continued staring at her in silence. She seemed to take the hint.

“They’re energy leeches!” Tick exclaimed with a triumphant smile, her horn glowed a little brighter as she pulled back out a few of the circuit boards and gave them a quick once over. “See this?” she said, floating over a circuit board for us to see. It was blackened from burnout, but I could faintly see a few small silver lines criss crossing its surface in the areas that hadn’t been completely fried. Honestly, I really didn’t know what I was supposed to be seeing.

“Uh, yeah?” I said, nodding my head in the hopes of looking knowledgeable.

“This absorbs ambient energy and converts it into usable electricity! It’s quite ingenious actually, it would also explain why they’re still active after all these years. When we turned on the power they were able to recharge,” Tick said.

“You mean when you turned on the power,” Jess corrected her.

Tick rolled her eyes. “Details. Besides, all of you were telling me to turn it on anywa-” Her eyes widened as they grazed over something on the backside of the board, and her smile promptly vanished.

“Is something… wrong?” Jess asked.

“Shush shh shh, one sec,” Tick said, holding a hoof in our direction while squinting at something on the back of one of the circuit boards. With a gasp, her magic fizzled out completely and the board clattered to the ground. It landed face down.

The backside of the board was just as fried as the front, with one exception. On the back of the burnt circuit board, there was a small, circular rune, intricately carved with arcane script both inside and out of the circle, as well as a small pictograph of a teardrop in the center. Despite its condition, the rune still looked perfect, almost glowing in the light. The meaning of it was lost to me, however. There only a were a few numerals that I recognized from my pilot training, the rest of it was gibberish.

Nightshade turned his head, looking at the rune before his eyes widened as well. “Is that?”

“Yeah.”

“WHAT? IS IT WHAT?” Jess snapped, “STOP BEATING AROUND THE FUCKING BUSH AND JUST TELL US ALREADY!”

Tick flinched, looking visibly green. Nightshade answered for her.

“These things aren’t robots, they’re golems. They’re like them, but they’re not exactly programmed.”

“You can read magic runes?” I asked skeptically.

“I have many skills,” Nightshade replied cryptic smile, “mostly, from a small talent with Alchemy. This, though, this takes the cake.” He said, pointing at the offending rune.

“Enlighten me.”

Tick continued instead, looking down at the rune sadly before speaking, “Golems are powered in one of two ways,” she said. “The first and most common is to use a magic nexus like a crystal and charge it with mana. You can then set it with a few objectives and it’ll create a sort of quasi-intelligence for it to do things. Like follow orders or add some basic utilities. A lot of the techs I used to work with used a sort of hybrid approach with that, using both a logic chip to handle the orders and a golem to execute them. Programming it is hard, but it makes some really, super smart bots.”

“I’m sensing another ‘but’ in there.” I replied.

Tick grimaced. “Even the best of them can’t perform abstract thinking. They need to be programmed to do things according to a set of rules, and are not able to quickly adapt to new circumstances.” She pointed to the tear in the center of the rune, looking ill. “See this teardrop? In magic it represents life, or more specifically, the Well of Life. And these braces serve as a focus to contain it.” She let that sink in.

Sink in, it did. Before my mother died, I went to school, and there they taught us all about where magic came from.

“So the second method...” I began.

“Yeah. I think we just found their logic.”

My stomach twisted, as I looked back down at the dead little monster. It was sick, really, but I couldn’t help but marvel at it. These monsters were robots that would stay active, alive, and sun-damned sapient so long as there was a source of energy to power them. My mind recoiled at the prospect, and especially the implication that followed.

The captain’s log had said that they took a few of the bots onboard for the scientists to study. The way he said it made it sound like they only picked up maybe a handful. Yet here, centuries later, there was practically an army of them.

Grimly, I connected the dots.

“Well, that’s unsettling.” A chorus of nods followed.

“Back on topic,” Nightshade said. “What’s causing them to explode when they get near the core?”

“Oh, that's easy. Their circuits overloaded,” Tickintime replied with a shrug. “My best guess is that the circuitry isn’t what it used to be after a few centuries and it can’t handle the concentrated power draw anymore.”

We all looked at the power core. With sudden revelation, Tick’s eyes flicked back and forth from the core to the three of us.

“What? Wait… no. No! No no no no. You’re not thinking what I think you are, are you? Please say no.”

“Well, it wouldn’t technically be the first time we’ve blown up an engine,” Nightshade commented wryly.

“That was a Sparkle Drive,” I corrected, “there’s a big difference.”

Tick’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, “You did WHAT?! ARE YOU INSANE?”

“Focus,” Jess warned, “Tick, can you get the engine to surge?”

Tick looked horrified. “M-maybe, but, if I do a power surge that big, I-I don’t think we’ll get a second chance. It’ll fry anything still connected to the grid! The whole ship would… well, let’s just say it would be a flying brick.”

And there goes the salvage value. I grimaced.

“But would it work?” Jess asked.

Tick clenched her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment before sighing. “It’s… possible, I guess? Are you sure there isn’t another option?”

Nightshade sighed, “Trust me, we’ve had plenty of time to think it over. This is the only option. All others end in us being pincushions. We either blow the engine, or hope we die.”

Tick deflated. “For the record,” she lamented, “I hate this plan.”

***

Ten minutes later, Tickintime was putting the finishing touches on the engine core, while the rest of us huddled together on the floor, going over the options of our escape. The plan was simple. We would blow the core with the hope that the resulting energy pulse would destroy the spiderbots, and then book it back to the closest airlock. See? Simple. Not to say our plan didn’t have a wrinkle or two,

“Okay, so let me be clear. What happens if the entire ship loses power and we can’t get out?” Tick asked, pulling herself away from her work and joining our little huddle.

Several, major, wrinkles, actually.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Like, doors," Tick explained, "If the engine shuts down, it’ll take a few minutes for the backups to kick in. I know there’s at least two still working, but I’m not so sure they’ll be able to provide enough power to keep the doors working.”

“We would have to crank the doors. Just like we did when we hit the bridge.” Nightshade said.

“Can we open them from here?” Jess asked. “You know, before we use the pulse?”

Tick shook her head. “Not really, the door controls aren’t connected into the inner engine room. The best thing we could get would probably be the engine shield, and that wouldn’t help us at all.”

“What about the doors we had to open manually? Would those still be open?” I asked.

“Well, assuming you disengaged the door controls, yeah. They should still be open,” she replied.

“Okay, so we take the longer way back to the ship,” I said.

“There’s also the question of the airlock,” Tick continued.

“Well, if the backups work the power should be back up by the time we get there right?” Jess said.

“Assuming at least one of the backups still functions at that point,” Nightshade replied.

“There’s always a manual override inside the airlocks.” Tick said. “It’s a safety feature. It’s been part of the design of ships dating all the way back to the early days of spaceflight.”

“But, will we have time to use it?” Nightshade asked.

Assuming the pulse actually works. I silently groused..

Tick simply shrugged. “Who can say?” she said.

“Alright, so, recap.” Jess straightened, her WAND glowing brighter as it started projecting a composite map from the data we had both gathered. A map formed between the four of us, fizzing and popping in time with the thrum of the engine core. “Assuming the pulse works, and we manage to knock out enough of the bots to get by, we make our way back to the airlock, here.” A thin red line snaked its way through the map and stopped at a cubed node several clicks away from our starting position. It was a good run, a real good run, but not unmanageable.

“To save time we should seal up before we start moving. We may not have time once we’re inside,” Nightshade suggested.

Jess nodded. “Good idea. Moving on,” the map zoomed in on the airlock, “We shut the hatch, get outside and then find our ship and transfer to it as quickly as we can.”

“The transfer could be a problem,” I added. “We’ve been here a long time, if there’s been any drift-”

“I can help course correct if we need it,” Tick offered. “Even the weakest Unicorn TK is usually more effective than what your WANDs can put out, and my MPR is about average.”

“Alright, so what’s left?” I asked.

“That’s it, really.’ Jess said. “Once we’re onboard, we should be home free.”

A moment of silence reigned between us as we all looked at each other.

I glanced at the engine, and then back to our group. “How soon will it be ready?” I asked Tick, hopefully sounding more confident than I felt.

Tick looked back at the engine and the mess of wires jutting out of the panel she had been working. “Two, maybe three minutes, tops,” she replied. “I’ve nearly finished what I need to do, I just need to make a couple more tweaks and then we’ll be ready.”

“Right then. Seal up, I guess,” I said. I pulled out my helmet, turning it over in my hooves before putting it on. The others did the same. I saw Tick finally secure her bubble helm before the crackle of my radio immediately filled my ears.

“Don’t forget to check your suit integrity.” Jess said as she finished securing her helmet. For a brief moment, her suit inflated, before settling back to its normal, tighter fit. “Especially you, Tick, I had to pull a few needles out of you when I found you. I want to make sure we plugged all the holes.”

Tickintime merely nodded. Her horn glowing briefly before her suit also inflated. “I’m good.”

“Alright then, when you’re ready, I guess,” I said.

The three of us crouched while Tick worked, keeping our weapons trained on the entrance with watchful eyes.

“Alright, I’m starting the pulse in three…”

“Two…”

“One.”

A crackle filled my ears as a wire short circuited from the panel. There was a brief flash, and then Tick stepped back.

Silence fell. The room was still, and we waited. One second, two, and then a deep thrum reverberated through the air, flashing the room in a pulse of bright light in time with its rhythm. I squinted in the light, a small pain building in my eyes. The thrum built in power, engine pulsing faster and brighter with every passing second until I could feel its rhythm in my chest. I shielded my eyes to guard from the glare as the pulse got faster and wilder. Then the thrum grew in pitch, louder and deafening until it settled into an ear piercing screech that made the entire ship shake.

“Cover!” Nightshade yelled, barely audible over the radio. Everyone dropped to the deck.

The rhythm broke. A massive force wave followed a deep boom. In an instant, the containment field shattered. A force hit the air, like being sucked in one direction and then blown out again. I felt an electric energy wash over me, through me, and out, charging the air with an electric buzz. The lights blew out. My WAND spazzed, the readout dying completely to be replaced with a chittering, static that flit around the edges of my vision and screeched in my ears. All sound went with it. Silence followed. The world plunged into darkness and after a moment I realized that I couldn't hear anything. Well, anything other than a screeching keen that drowned out everything else.

When I opened my eyes again, it was dark everywhere. Even the emergency lights had blown. Four headlamps activated, Illuminating bodies, faces, and visors. I looked up to see Jess talking and shaking her head unsteadily, my hearing returning in time to catch the tail end of her sentence.

“EEEEEeeeeeikeegetteeing hit with a flashbang.” Jess said, cradling her head with one hoof while supporting herself with the other.

“Did it work?” Nightshade asked.

“Only one way to find out.” Jess replied, turning toward the entrance.

I turned, looking back at Tick to find her muttering under her breath to the engine core while she pressed one hoof against its surface. "I’m sorry baby, I am so, so sorry.”

“Tick, we need to move. It’s time to find out if it worked,” I said.

Tickintime gave me a long baleful glance before nodding. “Alright,” she replied.

Jess and Nightshade stacked up at the entrance to the engine room, weapons at the ready. I took a position behind them, waiting for the go. Jess waved a hoof into the open and retracted it.

Nothing.

She risked a glance around the corner, waited, and then gestured for us to follow with her hoof. Together, we all pushed out.

It was eerily quiet in the rest of engineering. In the dark of the emergency lights the dead husks of spiders littered the floor like little black mountains, unmoving, some with trails of smoke rising from their internal components. I surveyed the scene with a serious sense of dread as we moved through the metal graveyard toward the exit, cautiously, at first, and then faster as our urgency built.

“How much time do we have until the backups kick in?” Jess asked in a low voice as we neared the door to the corridor. The door, to my relief, was still open.

“About a minute, maybe two,” Tickintime whispered back, “if they kick in at all…”

A few of the emergency lights kicked back on, casting the room in a dim glow.

Tick blinked. “Or now. Huh. I guess it didn’t fry everything after all.”

I stopped as a brief glint of light caught my eye. Looking down, I noticed the bot at my hooves.

It was still smoking. A small plume of black smoke drifted lazily out from its internal components as it sat inert with its legs splayed out on the ground.

It twitched.

“Uh, oh.” I said, comprehension dawning.

It was a tired scraping that filled the air, a halfhearted screech of nails against chalkboard as eight hundred legs weakly scrabbled for purchase against an unforgiving metal surface as the spiders awoke.

“Oh, rust buckets,” Tickintime swore.

Plan B.

“Run!” I screamed.

The four of us peeled off, closing the distance to the door in seconds as a room full of angry glowing eyes snapped to attention, an angry chitter rising like a tidal wave behind us. I was in the back, just ahead of Tick, as we rounded the open doorframe and several needles punched into the bulkheads behind us. The sound of metal legs on steel thundered, echoing through the hallways and giving speed to our flight.

We sprinted down a straightaway, and turned. I looked back just as we rounded the next corner. I really wished I hadn’t.

It was a like a writhing mass of machines. Spindly legs stuck out everywhere, as each bot crawled over the next to get at us, needles hissing through the air behind us as each bot took aim.

“How much farther?” Tick frantically called ahead, her eyes shrunken to pinpricks at what she had just seen.

“Not far!” Jess called back. “Just a few mo--FUCK!”

Jess skidded to a halt, the rest of us nearly plowing into her from behind. It didn’t take me long to see what the problem was.

It was a door, closed, and it was our only way out.

“Crank it! crank it! crank it!” TIck called out, turning a terrified glance at the impending wave just rounding the far corner behind us. Nightshade fumbled with the panel to expose the override inside.

“Shit! My WAND’s not working!” Jess cried.

“Then do it manually!” I yelled back. I looked back at the end of the corridor and started firing Flashing bolts of energy vanishing into the encroaching mass.

Tick was a step ahead of me. Horn glowing, I watched her field surround the plates on the floor and with a loud cry bent them upward, just in time to intercept a needle which ricocheted up and wedged itself into the ceiling. She did the same with the ceiling, noisily closing the gap, and panting audibly afterward.

“Hurry!” Jess shrieked, just as our impromptu barricade took its first blow. Tiny legs punched through the gaps in the steel, gripping its edges, poking, and flailing about. The keening strain of metal screeched in the air as the bots slowly bent it back open, muted only by the deafening chitter of the angry somethings behind it.

“I’m working as fast as I can!” Nightshade yelled back, frantically spinning the override inside the door. Tick turned to help, her magic focusing on the door itself and shoving. The door shrieked open.

“Go!” Jess yelled.

Nightshade rolled upright and sprinted, the rest of us not far behind. With a loud bang,one the metal plates ripped from the ceiling, and the bots began spilling over the fresh gap.

We didn’t stay to see the rest. We made it through one corridor, two, and then our destination sat ahead. The airlock was just as we left it. Still open from our side, and waiting for us. Jess was through first, then Nightshade, and then lastly myself and a panting Tickintime as I nudged her heavily inside.

“Get the door!” I yelled.

Nightshade braced against the hatch and heaved, The door slamming shut just in time to stop a spiderbot from getting in. I watched through the porthole, as the little bastards started piling on the outside.

Panting, we waited a couple seconds to catch our breath.

“That was close.” Tick said, gulping down air.

“Ain’t over yet,” Jess replied. “Cycle it!”

I hit the vent button. Nothing happened.

Growling, I ripped open the panel for the manual override, ignoring the loud warnings above to it and yanked the emergency release as hard as I could. “Brace!” I called. All four of us flattened against the walls.

Four muffled explosions fired in unison. Like a shot out of a cannon, the door blew off with a tremendous bang and whoosh, ripping the air out of the chamber. The force caught Tick. Jess and I reacted instantly, reaching out in time to keep her from flying away.

“Thanks,” she breathed as we set her back down.

Our respite was short lived. As the spiders beat their legs against the small window, hairline cracks slowly multiplying across its reinforced surface.

“Go! Go! Go!” I yelled. One by one we crawled out of the airlock, beating across the deck toward the transit point to the Bandit just a few clicks away. I was out last, trailing behind the others as they started their jumps. Once at transit, I looked up and breathed a sigh of relief.

Even after nearly two hours, the Bandit hadn’t moved an inch. Damn, I’m good.

Bunching my legs under me, I jumped as hard as I could.

I was up. I was out. I was headed the right way. Satisfied with my trajectory, I twisted in space to glance back at the battleship we were leaving behind. It barely moved, really, its size and our proximity did a lot for that. Then motion caught my eye. In muted horror, I watched as gas and glass exploded airlock, spewing several spiderbots into open space and spraying tiny flashes of needles into the void at random vectors. Still more crawled out from airlock onto the hull, and from there started jumping in tens toward the Bandit above.

“Ah, shit.”

We hadn’t planned for this. We hadn't planned for a lot of things, come to think of it. Ah, well. Hindsight is twenty-twenty.

“Horizon! Eyes up!” Jess screamed.

“Huh?” I looked up and plowed face first into the hull of the Bandit. My entire weight came down on my head and shoulders as I smacked against the deck at top speed. Pain shot through my side as my wings crunched painfully beneath me. I kicked my legs and realized I was floating. I'd bounced. A green energy field surrounded me, arresting my velocity and pinning me back to the Bandit’s hull before I could get away.

“Thanks Tick.” I managed, feeling sore everywhere.

“Later! Get in!” she replied, half dragging me with her magic back to the Bandit’s airlock as I struggled to orient myself. I was just over the lip when a needle plinked off the hatch and into space. Nightshade shut the hatch with a heave. Jess hit the cycle. Air hissed its way back in. As soon as the light was green, no one wasted any time.

“Get on the turrets!” Jess yelled. Nightshade nodded and sprinted for the nearest access. Jess then turned to me, “Is your WAND working?”

I checked my feed. It was still active, after a sort. A wall of errors filled what I could read in my feed, but from the looks of it, it was rebooting. I nodded my head. “It's full of errors, but it's online. Sorta.”

“Ugh. Well at least yours has power. Get on the seat and get us out of here!” With that she sprinted below decks toward the belly gun.

“Um… what should I do?” Tick called after me as I started running toward the pilot cabin.

I hit the door control and then looked back. “Get down to maintenance and buckle up. It’s about to get a little wild.” The door shut noisily behind me.

Everything was as I left it. Outside, the looming mass of the battleship was speckled with flickering white dots as the oncoming spiderbots flitted in and out of the Bandit’s spotlights. I jumped into the chair, not even bothering with the harness as I primed the engines for full thrust. With building horror, I realized they were closer than I thought. A loud bang sounded, suddenly warnings lit up the dash.

“Agh! They’re coming in!” Tick cried. Looking up, I saw several of the bots latch onto the viewport shielding and start smashing.

“Hang on!” I grabbed the rotational thrusters and spun.

The Bandit lurched, spinning amid the undignified cries of Jess and Nightshade as it spun on its central axis. The bots on the window flailed and then snapped off as I reversed thrust, nearly flinging me out of my own seat. Swinging the spotlights forward, I squinted into the darkness as I punched up the main thrusters. The bandit shook as the the thrusters fired launching us forward and rapidly accelerating. Debris shrieked across the surface of the hull as I took us up and away, Managed to dodge a large chunk of plating before we finally cleared the ship. Distantly I heard the report of the energy turrets go silent. When I could still see them flashing, I started checking warnings, My WAND still struggling to even display them correctly.

F3e~~ reb#oted. Mult1ple hu11# bre4ches, all deck$##.

“Contact! Inside!” Nightshade called over the sound of his weapon.

Frantically scanning the control board, I started checking warnings and swore. Life support was down, and reporting problems with the substructure.

“Save your air! No supply! We just lost life support!” I called.

“Copy!” Jess replied, “Oh, for the love of-”

We could fix it later. All I wanted to do was get us out. “Tick! Are you still with us?”

“Yeah! A little busy, but yeah!” I heard the crackle of something that I was pretty sure wasn’t radio static. Tickintime grunted.

“Is the Sparkle drive still working?”

“Yes!”

“Great!” I hit the charger. The telltale hum of the Sparkle drive built in the background as I cut the thrusters and levelled us off, redirecting every ounce of power I could to the drive to cut the charge time. The indicator rapidly spun up.

“Hold onto your lunch!” I called, hovering over the button.

70%

I could hear the cries of my comrades as they fought off the rest of the bots.

87%

I grit my teeth, staring at the angry red pinpricks of light shining from the battleship’s distant hull, skittering over its surface like some sick, living wave.

100%

I punched the button as hard as I could.

Emergency Warp Activated.

I felt the flash in places I didn't even know I had.

***

I was up. I was out of my seat. I was already moving. Pushing the release on the door control, I was nearly knocked off my balance as the air suddenly normalized, nearly launching me into the hallway beyond. By instinct my wings snapped open, catching the air in a furious backstroke, leveling me off enough to land on my hooves. Somewhere nearby I could hear a high pitched hiss as the atmosphere bled away, spewing out through unseen holes, while several more bangs announced the entry of more of the little bastards. I spotted one making its way toward the ladderwell to the maintenance deck, raised my leg and fired, scoring a trailing hit as it stumbled and fell the rest of the way down. Nightshade had just finished crawling out of the dorsal turret as he joined me in the access corridor.

“How many left inside?” Nightshade called over the S-Band, more to the rest of the group than to me.

“Can’t be too many more!” Jess replied instantly, “between the two of us I think we nailed most of them!”

I spotted another bot crawling out of a burst pipe in the corridor. I turned to fire, but Nightshade beat me to it, lighting it up with a shot from his pistol that took it square in the center. It burst messily, its sparking components dying quickly in the weakening atmosphere. Sparing little more than a glance at each other, we both took the ladderwell down to the maintenance level.

As we passed the deck, I got a good look at the state of the maintenance level. It was a mess. Several of the floor grates had come loose, with blackened, dead spiders sporadically littering the floor around the gaps in the deck. In the center of the room, Jess and Tick stood flank to flank, Jess cautiously training her weapon over the scene, while Tickintime panted, eyes focused as she channeled a small, flashing ball of lightning in front of her. A last bot tried to crawl away sneaking out of a grate for the engine room. Tick yelled and the room flashed as a bolt struck out. When I could see again, the bot lay still, blackened, and ruined.

“I think that might be it,” Tick managed, panting. Squinting, she released her spell and focused again, an electric sensation sweeping the room before fading away entirely, and she slumped to the ground. “Yeah, that’s it. I can’t sense any others.”

Jess lowered her weapon and sat down, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. “That could have gone better.” A loud bang answered her statement, and the hiss of leaking atmosphere grew several decibels. “Much, better,” she muttered. The hiss quickly died, taking last of our atmosphere with it.

A silence settled over the four of us, punctuated only by the sound of my suit's scrubbers. I sat down, wincing from a shoot of pain in my side. I'd have to get that looked at later.

Tick started giggling.

“What's so funny?” I asked.

She didn't respond, she just kept laughing, laying down on the floor completely before trying to compose herself. Blinking the tears from her eyes, she looked up at the ceiling and said. “Wow. That was… wow. Hee hee.”

“I think we broke her,” Jess replied wryly.

Tick waved a hoof at us. “No, no, i-it’s not that it’s just… wow!” She laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this... alive! I mean it was just so… so...” she trailed off, probably more from euphoria than struggling for words. She didn't seem the type to me.

“Fun!” she finally declared with a broad smile.

Yep. Call the ponies in white coats. She'd finally lost it.

“Sounds like, we have a convert,” Nightshade replied. I could hear him grin.

“I mean, yeah, it was really scary! What with all the freaky soul bots of doom, and stuff, but… what a rush!”

Jess trotted up beside her, nudging her with the elbow of her foreleg. Tick swayed slightly from the impact. “Congrats kiddo, you have your first war story,” Jess said, “Now you can spend your days swapping stories with your buddies over a few drinks.”

“I-Is that how that works?” Tick asked with an elated-yet-hopeful smile.

Nightshade shrugged, “Yeah, it's something like that. Too bad about the ship, though.”

The joy immediately faded, from Tick’s eyes, replaced by dawning horror. “Oh my gosh! The ship!” She gasped, “I BLEW UP a battleship!”

“Like I said,” Jess said with a laugh, “war stories.”

“Regardless,” I interrupted. “Tick, do you know if the Sparkle drive is still in working order? My WAND is on the fritz and I don’t think I can get a solid readout from the main computer.”

Tick’s eyes refocused, looking briefly toward the engine room before she gave me a slow nod. “I think so, I was able to keep most of the bots off of it. They seemed more intent on getting at us rather than sabotaging components.”

“Like life support?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

Tick’s smile faded. “Well, most of the components. I’ll have a look at it. Is life support really gone?”

I nodded. “Last legible feed report I got said something in the substructure was putz."

Tick groaned. “Ugh, one of the few things I can’t fix outside of drydock,” she muttered. Placing a hoof to her chest, she took a deep breath and exhaled. “Okay then, so... what now?”

I frowned, thinking to myself as I rolled the thought around in my head. “We need to dock, and fast. I'm not sure about you guys, but my air supply only lasts about 24 hours at most on my talisman and scrubbers so we won’t be able to make it all the way back to L6-C.”

Nightshade, “What about Winter’s Edge?” he suggested. “It is pretty close to the edge of known space.”

“That, might be doable,” Jess agreed, “there’s also less a chance of us getting turned away for having a pegasus registration if we go there.”

Tick blinked. “That’s a thing?” she asked incredulously.

I chuckled, “trust me when I say I have a few fond memories on that topic.”

Jess glanced in my direction, “So how long did they give you the runaround?”

“I’ll tell ya later,” I replied.

“Wait, what about the battleship?” Tick asked. “Aren’t we gonna come back for it? I mean it's not like it's gonna go anywhere.”

I shook my head. “Forget the ship,” I said, “it’s a lost cause so long as it’s guarded by those… things.”

“I agree," Nightshade said, "We’d have to hire help in order to take it back. Or get some very specialized equipment. None of which is either cheap, or safe, in some cases. I think we'd be better off selling the location to somepony with more resources.” Jess merely nodded her agreement.

“Well, if that's the case then you could donate it to the EPA?” Tick suggested.

“Museums don’t pay-”

“I know that, but at least they’d have the resources to take care of it. And you never know, maybe they would pay a finder’s fee,” Tick responded.

“While I don’t quite agree, she is right. The shrinks would have the resources for it. Play our cards right and we might be able to wring something out of them,” Nightshade said.

I sighed. “Fine, we’ll donate it. But I’m still writing this off as a loss.” I stopped a moment as a thought struck me. “Well,” I said. Nosing through my suit’s pack, I nudged out the storage cube and let it fall to the deck beside me before scooting it for everyone else to see clearly, “maybe it’s not a total loss. Anyone know how to crack one of these open?”

Nightshade looked contemplative. “Fritter might. If not, I could probably find somepony else.”

“Fritter it is.”

70% Remaining...

Author's Note

*EPA - Equestrian Preservation Association, not to be confused with the EPLA - Earth Pony Liberation Army. They're nicknamed 'the shrinks' because they have a tendency to shrink wrap their findings. With magic, of course.
*MPR - Magical Power Rating. On a scale of 1-100. An average score is between 15-25, calculated as a balance between output and control. The scoring system added the control part early in the 1000's to spare the egos of instructors whose power was less than their kindergarten students.

-=Alright I'm calling this chapter done. I can't work on this chapter anymore without beating my head against a wall. I wanted to be sure to get it out before my trip to Youmacon. Hope you enjoy.=-

16 - Leads

Chapter 16

Leads

My Dearest Silverbelle,

I expect the news of our failure has reached the Outer Colonies. What they say is true. All of it. The recovery effort has been a disaster. Not one of all the magi and scholars we have hired over these past nine years have been able to recreate the spells needed to move the sun and moon. We failed. We tried everything: telekinesis, science, higher magics, even brute force, but we cannot move them. They refuse to be commanded. Our only hope was that the S.T.A.R.S. would find the princesses. But, you know how well that endeavor went.

Equestria is doomed. Forever. Wherever the Princesses have gone, I suspect they will not return. Our homeworld will die. Even now, the oceans boil and what land remains lies frozen on the planet’s dark side. Only the twilight zone is still habitable. And that's still over the damned ocean.

Tomorrow begins the new year. They will make the official announcement soon after. I am so, so sorry, my love. Tomorrow, I will attend a hearing. After that, I will face the consequences of my failure. Take care of our children, and do not wait for me at the station. I will not be coming home. Goodbye.

In Love and Death,
Gleaming Shield

- 3345 E.C. Letter written to Clarity Silverbelle, shortly after the collapse of the S.T.A.R.S. program.

In the following days, Equestria Prime was permanently abandoned.

The pilot’s cabin was silent as I waited, hoping that my conversation request would go through. It wasn’t the first time I had tried this. Darkly, I reasoned that it probably wouldn’t be the last, either. After what felt like hours waiting patiently in the semi-dark, my feed finally lit up with a response.

<<Do you have any idea what time it is?

We were nearly back to Winter’s Edge, maybe a jump or two away, by the time we had finally finished repairing the comm suite to the point where we could send messages along the M-net again. After personally surveying the damage to the antennas, I was doubtful that we would could even send Horse code much less readable data, but, miracle worker that she is, Tickintime somehow managed to pull through for us. The hack job she managed wasn’t pretty, but according to her it would at least serve us until we could get into a drydock. The resulting data pipeline was small, too small to get the holo projector working again, much to Jess’ disappointment. She would have to wait until we could dock again before she could catch up on her favorite shows. Provided we didn’t send any other information, however, the connection was strong enough to get a few messages out, even if they were only in text form.

>>N)t R34l1y, and I’m $0rry if it’s a li##le early for *!u, Fri7ter, but I wamted to u9d@te you on our lit7le tr1p#.

Unfortunately, everything I sent with my WAND was less than legible. It tried to send the right characters, it honestly tried. I counted it as a blessing and a credit that it actually survived the blast from the battleship’s engine core. Jess’ WAND certainly didn’t. I was lucky, and I knew it. I also doubted that it would survive another event like that one. Thankfully, I didn’t need a completely functioning WAND to fly the ship. The trip back to Winter’s Edge was spent working, with all of us doing whatever ad-hoc patchwork we could apply to the ship while underway. Tickintime directed the repairs, focusing first on the support systems to the Sparkle Drive, and then starting immediately on the comm suite, but I told you about that already.

<<You know it might be best if you did that in person. Did your WAND get damaged or something? Your data stream is looking a little corrupted.

I made a mental note to go find a specialist once this was all over.

>>Y*u c0uld 5ay th@. W##e about _wo, naybe thr3e hours out, plus ber7#ing time. Think you’!1 be rested en0ugh to me3t with me tH_n?

It took a minute or two for the reply. I figured that he was spending time to decode the gibberish. When I finally got it, I laughed.

<<BLAZING SUN TITS, DUDE! IT’S TWO IN THE FUCKIN MORNING. NO! I am NOT getting in fuckin two hours for a meeting. Swing by my stand at eight. And before you ask, yes, I do have some updates for you. Quite a few, actually, but we’ll talk later, I need my damn sleep.

>>Right, I’ll sw1inG by later. 5orry to wa_e you.

I disconnected my WAND from the computer, laughing softly to myself about my little faux pas. Of course it was early morning for him. Sometime in the rush I must have lost track of time. I leaned over to check the status of the Sparkle drive on the console board. Sixty-seven percent to next jump. Groaning, I leaned back in the pilot’s chair and slumped.

“Bleh,” I muttered.

Waiting sucks.

I got out of the pilot chair to go help with more repairs.

Two hours became four. Halfway through a safety check, one of the power regulators to the Sparkle Drive shorted out and we lost precious time trying to find a replacement. Thankfully Tick was able to jury rig something using parts from the drone control board, but that meant the drones would be offline permanently, or at least, until we could afford to replace it. That hassle out of the way, the remaining trip to Winter’s Edge was quiet. We finished what repairs we could, and then spent the rest of the time waiting, some of us catching up on some much needed rest while the rest of us took the watch. Nightshade contented himself to continue working on the comm suite, while Jess and Tick slept. I sat in the hot seat, enjoying the solitude of the pilot’s cabin as we wound up for our final jump. Determined not to be rude, I decided to give the two girls a warning.

“Rise and shine, ladies, we’re almost home,” I said over the S-Band. Two groans replied, followed by one distinct smacking of lips.

“Ugh, bout time, I don’t think I could stand stewing in this suit much longer,” Tick said. “The first thing I’m doing when we get back is taking a long, hot shower.”

“Amen to that,” Jess added groggily. She yawned. “I wonder if this station has any of those public spas the Rim is famous for. I could go for a nice dip, right about now.”

“Oooh, that sounds nice,” Tick said with a fervent shiver. “Tell you what, if they’ve got spas, we’re both going for hot tubs and hooficures. My treat.”

“Eeee!” Jess squealed, “I haven’t had a hooficure in ages! Oh, Celestia, I bet they look awful!”

A blinking light announced the cycle on the Sparkle Drive was done. Smiling, I started the charger and waited, watching the gauge charge for the final time. “I hate to interrupt your planning, but I’d start bracing if I were you. Cleaning the inside of your helmet isn’t a fate I’d wish on anypony.”

“And now I’m thinking of puking in my helmet. Thanks for the buzz kill, Horizon,” Jess said.

“You’re welcome,” I replied while glancing back down at the control board. My indicator was green. Good to go. “Here we go.” With little hesitation, I hit the button. The ship rumbled, flared, and we were suddenly elsewhere.

***

Elsewhere, and several kilometers off-grid. In the far distance I could see the mass of Winter’s Edge looming in my viewport and the occasional sparkle of ships jumping in. Grumbling to myself, I put us in a slow trundle toward the station. Within a few minutes, my WAND chirped in my ear, alerting me to an incoming communications ping from the tower. Groaning, I opened up the requested line on the C-Band.

“Hello, tower,” I said, my voice even and already sick of their shit.

“Nice aim, dude,” the tower replied. I wasn't sure if the grinding of my teeth carried over the microphone.

It took real composure to bite back my retort. I was not about to let them get under my skin, or for that matter, risk getting banned from the only real safe haven that would take us in on short notice. Biting my lip until I could regain myself, I settled for, “Thanks, tower.” and left it at that. “Scrap Bandit requesting emergency docking clearance. We took some damage out there and lost atmosphere.”

“One second, Scrap Ba- wait a sec… I know you!” The buck at the tower suddenly shouted.

I winced as the speakers screeched into my ears, partially offsetting my budding confusion with a lovely headache. Ow.

“You’re that one dude! Hang on a sec!”

The line must have been left on. I heard the scrape of a metal chair against the floor and the telltale plodding of hoofs on deck as the controller went who knows where. Distantly, I heard him shout, “Hey Glaze! Get Fortune off his break!”

I heard some sort of reply, but it was too distant to make out. I was more preoccupied with figuring out just what the hell was going on, anyway.

“Yeah, I know he’s gonna be pissed, just do it! And get him over here!” The buck said.

A pause. Another distant reply.

“What do you mean, ‘why?’ Just tell him that that one buck is back!” A series of rapid hoofbeats grew louder as the speaker finally returned to his post. The scrape of a chair and a slightly heavier than normal plop later announced his arrival.

“Heh, sorry about that, Scrap Bandit.” The tower buck finally said.

“I don’t need more docking instructions, if that’s what you’re planning,” I said, remembering our last encounter, “once is enough for my lifetime.”

The pony laughed hard and loud. When he finally calmed down he said, “No, no, man, it’s cool. We were just fuckin with ya that time. Hang on a sec while I get you cleared.”

Over the mic I heard more hoofbeats. “Alright Spit, what the fuck is going on here that you gotta… holee~shit! Scan him! Scan him!”

Suppressing another snicker, the tower buck called Spit said, “Scrap Bandit, stand by while we verify the damage to your vessel.”

A few seconds later, I felt a tingling, warming sensation wash over my body. It passed as quickly as it came.

“I called it! I fucking called it!” Fortune suddenly shouted with a laugh. Then, distantly, I heard him yell, “Hey Glaze! You owe me ten bits!”

The statement bounced around in my head for a few moments. Wait... what?

“Uh… tower?” I asked as a frown slowly crept onto my face, “what’s going on up there?”

“Oh, nothing, just settling a little wager,” the Tower pony number one, I think his name was Spits, replied. “The boys and I here had a little bet going that the next time we saw you, all that was left of your ship would be your ass strapped to a sparkle drive,” Spits laughed. “With bets on the damage, of course. Anyway! You’re cleared! Head to Hangar one, dock seven. There should be a good drydock there that you can use. Also, take your time! Our shifts are almost over.”

“Um… thanks? Scrap Bandit out.” I closed the line feeling awkward and vaguely offended.

Well that was weird, I thought, sitting quietly for a moment as I tried to figure out just what the hay had happened. Shrugging, I put a little extra power into the thrusters and got us on our way.

Really, really weird.

With permissions out of the way, I did as the tower pony asked and took my time flying us into the hangar. Even this early in the morning, the docking traffic was still just as psychotic as the first time, but at least this time around I didn’t generate any angry pings from other pilots. That, or the telemetry was too busted to receive them. I’m not sure which was preferable. Once we were out of the crush of traffic, I brought us into dock seven as I was told.

Dock seven was a beauty. Between the pristine lines of very expensive looking yachts, and a main platform absolutely decked in trees, I wondered if I was looking more at some kind of weird resort than an actual docking area. Why the tower had sent me here was anyone's guess, but I wasn't about to complain. Space was plentiful, far more so than in the hangar I had used before, and what few ships were docked in the same area spoke of money. I chuckled a little knowing that my shitty little barge would be pulling up a seat next to them.

"Damn, and I thought the docks on L6-C looked nice," Nightshade said, looking out the viewport as I made the final adjustments for our approach.

He had a bit of a point. Priority docks were nice, but this was damn near the VIP treatment. What gives? Should I care? I decided to withhold my opinion till later.

"As long as they don't charge by the hour, I'm fine with it," I said as I lined up with the docking clamps. It was then, that motion from the platform caught my attention. Three ponies stood on the platform below us, waving to get my attention. Or at least I thought they wanted my attention, it was difficult to tell at that distance. One thing was certain. I didn't know any of them.

“Friends of yours?” Nightshade asked as he leaned closer to viewport to get a better look.

“I don’t know,” I replied truthfully. “They seem happy to see us, though. That’s good, right?”

Nightshade frowned. “Maybe,” he said.

“You don’t like them?”

Nightshade shrugged. “Well... it's not a 'bad' feeling exactly, but my talent is telling me that you’re about to feel really awkward. So... have fun with that.” Nightshade waltzed out of the cabin, the door closing behind him.

“Huh…” I muttered. Well, if Nightshade wasn’t concerned about it, then I wasn’t either. Shrugging it off, I made one final adjustment to the ship’s alignment and then killed the thrusters. Silently, docking clamps did the rest. One rumble later, and we were berthed.

With a sigh, I unbuckled from my seat and stretched, feeling the bones in my wings pop before I settled back into place. With a last look back at the control board, I put the ship into standby power, and moved to join the others in the airlock.

“Hurry up, Horizon! I wanna hit the spa!” Tick called, bouncing on her hooves and practically vibrating in place while she held open the airlock door open for me. Smirking, I picked up the pace and squeezed in. With all four of us inside, it was a cozy fit.

Jess was the closest to the button this time, and she did the honors with gusto. The air cycled, and filled the chamber as the pressure normalized between the airlock and the outside world. I hit the release on my helmet halfway through the process and peeled it off manually, several locks of my mane falling into my face before I shook it out and took a deep breath of clean air. Well, cleaner, to be honest, it smelled just as bad as the first time. The hatch released. Nightshade swung it open and we all stepped outside.

As we touched down on the platform, we were approached by the three earth ponies who had been waiting for us with big smiles on their faces. They all wore the same uniform, matte grey with somewhat brownish hues and some emblem I didn’t recognize patched in on the left shoulder. All three of them looked at our little group with more than just a little enthusiasm.

“Can I help you?” I asked, feeling slightly unnerved.

“Are you Horizon Seldat?” One pony asked. Part of me shivered. Nothing good ever came from ponies who ask for you by name. The speaker was a light blue buck with a white mane and a compass for a cutie mark. I recognized his voice as the first buck from the tower. I think his name was Spit? Spits? Whatever.

I glanced at Nightshade, who merely shrugged and walked past me with a parting, “all yours.”

I frowned as he left, and turned back to the three bucks. “I am,” I responded warily.

“I knew it!” one of the bucks beside Spits suddenly cheered. He was a pale yellow, with a cream mane and some kind of weird coin for a cutie mark. I recognized his voice as the pony named ‘Fortune’. “I fucking knew it! Dude! It’s that guy! Same guy!”

“We can’t be sure, Fortune, come on,” the third said. He was a white and brown piebald with a pastel green mane.

“No, dude, I swear it’s totally him!” Fortune said, pointing a hoof in my direction.

“Have fun, Horizon,” Jess chuckled as she and Tick also walked off, leaving me by myself to fend off the three ponies excitedly chatting among themselves.

“Okay, just what the fuck is going on here?” I asked. My statement caught the attention of the three, who snapped to attention. Well, maybe not snapped, it was more of a sudden jolt as all three of them suddenly stood up a little straighter.

The one named Spits, smiled. “Sorry, it just feels a little unreal, meeting you,” he laughed, “My name is Spitshine, and this is Fortune, and Glaze.” He gestured to the others in turn, who simply nodded. “We’ve just got a quick question for ya, are you the same pony who got hauled out of here by that one cop chick about a couple weeks ago?”

My eye twitched. “Maybe…” I replied, grimacing. This was not going in the direction I was hoping for.

Spits’ smile grew wider, “Awesome! Dude, okay, so, this is gonna sound weird, but...” The pony started fishing through his uniform pockets with the WAND on his head. What came out was an old fashioned pad of paper and a ballpoint pen. “Can we have your autograph?”

Wait. What? What the fuck? Seriously, what the fuck?

My brain overloaded. Neurons ground to a halt as I desperately fished for something, anything, that I could say that would help me comprehend the words I had just heard. The fight was brief, bloody, and pointless. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I was utterly speechless.

“Are you insane?” I finally managed. Spitshine turned red in the face.

The pony named Glaze started laughing. Fortune joined him, he didn’t laugh so much as howl, and loud enough to draw the irritated glare of some rich snob passing by.

Spits composed himself. “Yeah, maybe just a little. But, can we still get your autograph?” He offered the pen and paper again, giving it a little wiggle with his WAND for emphasis.

He was serious. He was totally serious.

“You’re totally serious,” I said, gobsmacked.

The three nodded in unison.

“Well, okay… I guess,” I said. Gingerly, I took the pen in my mouth and signed the paper. Once I finished, Spits floated his things back and stowed them into his pockets with a satisfied smile like he had just gotten away with something.

“Alright… so, uh, what the fuck is going on?” I asked.

“You mean you don’t know?” Fortune said, mouth agape in a half laugh.

I raised an eyebrow. Obviously.

“Dude, you’re like, a fucking legend!” Spits said.

I blinked twice. “Bullshit,” I replied.

Glaze squeezed his way in between them. “Look man, I know these guys are weird, but hear us out. We heard some of the gossip from the cargo ship incident last month.”

Oh. That. I felt the corners of my mouth tighten.

The white buck continued, “The military guys just wouldn’t stop fuckin talking about it. And once we heard the story, I just had to do a little more research. So I pulled the reports, and Fortune here also came across your name on the news report about the train attack over in the Core.”

And that. I had been wondering how far news of that had gone. Clearly, farther than I’d hoped.

“Look, man, all we wanna know is this. How the fuck did you do it? I mean, we read the reports from the ship that picked you up and we’ve been trying to figure it out ever since.”

“The rumors we’ve heard have been wild,” Fortune added with a laugh, “So we gotta know, how the fuck did you take down two EPLA cruisers with an unarmed scrap barge?”

I stared. I closed my mouth with an audible click. That’s what this was about? Of course, when they put it that way, it did sound a little impressive, and impossible. Two combat ships versus a hauler? I mean, come on! I took a moment to process before I started making corrections.

“Okay, first off, it was only one cruiser, and second, it’s kind of a long story.”

“Drinks on us?” Spits offered with a smile.

For one dumbfounded moment, I smiled back.

You know, I could get used to this.

I spent the rest of the morning regaling the three about what I’d seen so far.

***

It was really too early to be this drunk. I strolled into the food court where Fritter kept his stand a little more tipsy than I would have liked, but the ciders were free and the audience was more than happy to hear my side of the story. When I left, we parted as friends, sort of. Ish? I don’t know, do spur-of-the-moment drinking buddies count as friends? I think that enters the territory of friendship maths that I'm really not prepared for. Either way, the whole thing felt weird, as was the slow realization that struck me on the way back:

I had fans.

I had actual, honest to goodness fans, and you know? It felt really... awkward. Yet, it still made me smile, and as weird and strange as the whole thing felt, I was still smiling by the time I finally pulled up a chair at Fritter’s stand. The cider probably helped too.

The pony in question had just finished taking a batch of his namesake out of the oven and setting them on the counter to cool. “Ah, there you are,” Fritter said with a smile. He glanced over me for a moment before continuing, “You’re looking unusually chipper today.” His smile strained a little as he sniffed the air. “Are you drunk?”

I laughed. “Maybe just a little,” I said. “Don’t worry about it. Did you read the stuff I sent you?”

Fritter laughed. “I don’t think ‘read’ is the right word for that. It felt more like translating sphinx.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. My WAND is on the fritz. Hay, it’s a miracle it works as well as it does. The one Jess had was completely fried.”

Fritter winced. “Oooh, that’s not gonna be cheap.”

“Tell me about it,” I said.

Fritter waved it off, turning his attention back to the pastries he was busy destroying, adding what looked like… hot sauce? While he worked he asked, “So just what the hell happened on your little field trip? You said something about keeping me updated.”

My nose twinged as a waft of whatever poison Fritter was making made itself known. Grimacing, I rolled with it. “Yeah, well short story is, the lead was a bust, mostly.”

“Mostly?” Fritter inquired.

“Mostly,” I affirmed. “As it turned out, our battleship had a bit of an infestation problem. We got caught in the back and had to blow the main engine core in order to get out. The fallout fried pretty much everything on the ship, or at least that’s what I’m betting. We didn’t exactly have time to check while we were running from a rampaging horde of soul-eating robots.”

“Sounds like you’ve had a full day,” Fritter laughed.

“Something like that,” I sighed. “Either way, the ship was probably more trouble than it was worth. I figure we could just sell its location to somepony who can do something about it and leave it at that. Not to say that we left empty-hooved, however.” Nosing through my suit pack, I floated out the storage cube with my WAND. Or at least I tried to, despite my best efforts, it wobbled horribly in the air before I finally managed to set it on the counter next to the Fritter’s newest culinary disaster. “Know how to crack one of these open?” I asked him.

Fritter whistled. He sat down and picked up the cube, turning it over in his hooves. “No, but I’m gonna damn well find out. Holy shit, man, where did ya find this beauty?”

I smiled. “I cracked a safe in the Captain’s quarters, I think it was supposed to contain facility records or something. My mind is a bit fuzzy at the moment. I don’t think I’ve slept for the better part of two days.”

Fritter smirked. “I bet the alcohol isn’t helping either.”

I laughed, “Yeah, probably not. You said you had an update for me as well?”

Fritter’s smirk grew into a full blown grin. “Yes! Actually! Although, due to some expenses, you’re gonna have to pay me for this one.”

My smile wavered. “How much?”

“Four hundred bits,” Fritter said with a straight face.

I was thankful I wasn’t drinking water. “Four hundred bits!” I nearly shouted.

Fritter winced, “Shh! Not so loud! Jeez!”

I grunted. “Sorry.”

“Look dude, I know it’s a lot, but you wouldn’t believe how many bribes I had to pay to get this info” Fritter said, glancing over at the other patrons to make sure no one was listening.

“Info on what?” I replied.

“Your mechanic,” he said.

“Tick?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Everypony I talked to was super tight-lipped about the whole thing, and I had to pay a small fortune in bribes both to get the info and keep 'em quiet about it.”

I blinked. “What, is she some sort of secret agent or something?” It was a legitimate question, really. After all, I was technically hanging out with a headhunter and a… what exactly did Nightshade do, anyway? He said he needed to kill somepony. Was he an assassin? Super spy? A lying bastard? Probably that last one.

Fritter shrugged. “That’s just the thing. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” I deadpanned. “You want me to give you four hundred bits, and you don’t know.”

“bankers take more for less,” Fritter said with a smirk.

“Touché,” I replied.

“I just need the money to cover my incidental costs. But I do have info for you. You just, well, money first, please.” Fritter whipped out a bitstick. Grudgingly, I pulled out one of my own and made the transfer.

“Alright, spill. And this better be worth it.”

“Okay, so, after you made your request, I did some digging into your mechanic friend’s history,” Fritter said.

“Yes?” I replied.

“And that’s it,” he said.

“Four hundred bits...”

“No no! Hear me out for a sec. That was it.” He repeated the last word with an air of finality.

“I don’t follow.”

Fritter groaned, “It’s like this, Horizon, her history? blank. Nothing. No background, no records, nothing. It’s like she doesn’t even exist, or if the records do exist, they’re not on the M-Net.”

A mechanic with no paper trail? That was odd. “So, what, is she like, a ghost? or something?”

Fritter shook his head. “Not quite. But as things stand, legally, she doesn’t exist.” He bent over to put a batch of newly hot-sauced dough back into the small oven in his stand. “The discovery forced me to talk to a few of my more remote contacts about it, and they came up with about the same results.”

“So, what you’re saying is.”

“There’s nothing. At least, not pertaining to her history. I know she’s using a bank account but I couldn’t get a bead on it no matter what I tried. It's under some very tight security. I did find something interesting, however, although given what I told you, It’s probably not all that surprising.”

“And what’s that?” I said.

“That asteroid colony where you picked her up at? No pony named Tickintime has ever been on their payroll. Ever. As far as records show, she never worked there, and their financial filings showed the same. If she was working there as a mechanic, they weren’t paying her to be there,” Fritter said.

“How does that help us?” I asked.

“Well, it doesn’t, sorta. And this is where that hush money came in,"Fritter said. "After I did my research, I had a short conversation with the pony who would technically be her overseer. It took a few bits to loosen his tongue, but according to him, your friend just showed up out of the blue one day and started volunteering. She always refused pay, always paid her bills, and for the most part, spent a lot of hours working on the more exotic hardware.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Not really. Well, other than that she was the best worker he’d ever seen and that he was sorry to see her leave. But, they’re weren’t paying her, so technically she never really worked for him in the first place. And that’s about all I could find,” Fritter finished.

“So, more questions, then,” I said.

“More questions,” Fritter agreed, nodding his head.

“Great,” I muttered. First one pony with a mysterious background, and now two. Could I trust anyone? Could I trust Jess? That train of thought was rewarded with a smack on the head.

“Ow! What was that for?” I said, rubbing the spot where Fritter had hit me.

“I know that look on you, Horizon. You’re getting all dark and moody again. Stop it.”

I am not dark and moody, I sulked.

“Oh, one other thing about your friend,” Fritter suddenly added. “Wherever she went missing from, she really doesn’t want to be found. The fact that even my contacts can’t find data on her means that she had to have used an Eraser, and a really good one at that. You find that pony, and we might be able to find some of the data we’re missing.”

“They’d keep it on hoof?” I asked.

“Well, yeah, I mean, you never know when you’re gonna need some good blackmail. Or an out, in some cases. It’s standard practice, really. You just have to use something secure to keep it in.” Fritter picked up the storage cube again and gestured with it. “Like this. You didn’t pick up anything else with it, did you?”

I nodded, “yeah, the Captain’s tablet, I don’t know if it survived the pulse from the engine core, though.”

Fritter frowned, “Well, it might be useful, even if it didn’t. I’ve got a few connections that might be able to salvage its memory, if nothing else.”

Nosing through my pack, I pulled out the tablet with my teeth and placed it on the counter. “Have fun with that,” I said. In a smooth motion, Fritter tucked both the cube and the tablet behind the counter with a single sweep of his leg.

“Oh! Other stuff!” Fritter suddenly said. “Here!” I heard a keypress. My WAND beeped as something transferred. “I’ve found a few more emails that you might find interesting between your old boss and his friend.” Fritter frowned. “Something kinda weird happened too.”

“Weird?” I asked again. I heard another keypress and my WAND beeped again.

“This email,” Fritter said, “I was contacted by somepony off of both my network and Junkyard’s. He had a weird callsign too. It’s a single digit number, super rare.”

“Why is it rare?”

“That… would take too long to explain. And it’s not that important. What is important is how the fuck he knew how to get into my network. I mean hell, even I have firewalls, and they’re not cheap ones either.”

“You think he’s dangerous?”

“You don’t crack into a broker’s info network just to say hello. That’s like breaking into somepony’s house with a shotgun and asking if you could borrow some milk.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah, weird. But, he’s assured me that he doesn’t mean me any harm, only that he needed to get in touch with me for future reference. Frankly, I don’t trust him, but with how easily he broke my encryption, I don’t think my opinion really matters, and that really freaks me out.”

“Are you gonna be okay?” I asked.

“Only time will tell, I suppose, but I’m getting ready to make a quick exit just in case.”

“Anything else?” I asked.

“Oh! Yeah! Joe sends his love, and he’s also wondering where his whiskey is.” Fritter smiled, which turned into a frown as I winced. “You didn’t bring it, did you.”

“We had to make an emergency stop after our little trip to the battleship. We’d taken too much damage to make it out there in time.”

Fritter raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll get to it, I swear.”

“Yeah, sure. Just do it sometime this month or else he’s gonna get all pissy again.”

“Joe gets pissy?”

“Well, no, not really, but he will cut off your tab.”

“Noted,” I said.

“Well that’s enough of that. I’ve got to finish getting set up here, and you look like you could use some sleep. Big time.” Fritter nodded.

My body agreed. I was about a half-hour away from collapsing in public. “I am pretty exhausted. Know any good places to get a little shuteye? I’m hoping to avoid another stay at a Tuck’n’Roll.”

“Well, there’s a hotel not too far from here. I dunno if they serve other races, though. I think your best bet would be to use that old apartment we had you holed up in.“

“That thing is still open?”

“It is now,” Fritter said, pulling a keycard out from underneath the counter and pushing it in my direction. “Joe told me to give you this the next time I saw you. He figured if you ever dropped by you’d need it. He also spent a bit of time cleaning the place out for ya in case you showed. Family hospitality, or something like that.”

“Wow… I don’t know what to say,” I’m unintentionally inheriting a dead pony’s apartment. Yay?

“A simple thank you would be a good place to start, probably.”

“Wait, Isn’t it still dangerous down there?”

Fritter grimaced. “Things have… changed, while you’ve been gone.”

“Changed how?”

“For the better, sort of,” Fritter said sadly. “The station police finally stepped into the gang wars down in the factory district. They raided every last level, and cleared the whole place out. I swear they must’ve brought in teams from like six different stations. It was a huge force, or so I heard.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, wow. Everything's gone. Sweeped clean. The body count was pretty high, and one sided. I think only six cops went down, and even then their injuries weren’t even fatal. Can’t say the same for the gangers. Regardless, the businesses will be glad to have the factory space back, to say the least.”

Well, so ends that chapter. I thought. “Well that’ll save me a few bits at least. Especially after paying you.”

Fritter grinned, “What? A buck has gotta eat! Speaking of, want a fritter?” He offered one of his namesake. It was suspiciously red.

“I think I’ll pass this time, thanks,” I said, placing a hoof between myself and the pastry in case it magically made its way closer to me. “Thanks for everything, Fritter.”

“Anytime. Get some sleep, dude, I’ll see ya again later.”

I let him get back to work, as I turned and left. I didn’t leave a tip, this time. Four hundred bits my ass.

***

The door control beeped as the keycard did its magic and the door opened, admitting me into the old apartment. As I entered, I whistled. Fritter wasn’t kidding when he had said that Joe had cleaned the place up for me. For what it was worth, the place was spotless. Maybe not brand new, but every sign of the previous occupant had been cleared out save for a few bits of useful furniture. I spent a little time taking a tour of the place, noting all the interesting nooks and crannies, and what things might be put in them in the future. I sat on a leftover couch and breathed, unsure of what I should make of it.

This place didn’t belong to me. It was a mantra that kept repeating in my head, yet was repeatedly struck down by colorless logic. This place didn’t really belong to anyone. Not anymore, anyway. Still, it was hard to separate it from the knowledge that a dead pony used to live here. Not that he had any more use for it. In time, I figured the local government would reclaim it. But for now…

I checked the small kitchen near the entry way and found it to be in order. The sink had running water, cold at first, but it warmed quickly. Working utilities. A good sign. I took a quick drink before moving on to check the rest.

The pantry had been emptied, naturally. I sincerely doubted that anything left over from the previous resident would have kept this long anyway. The cookware was powered. The microwave worked fine, and so did the small oven. A small rice cooker sat unplugged, wedged in the corner. The fridge was empty. Praise Luna. Out in the living room I saw a comfy looking couch, and an old holo projector. The control was missing, but if I could get my WAND working I wouldn’t need it. Silently I nodded to myself. The apartment wasn’t large by any description, but it was working. Humble, but useable. I smiled to myself, taking a deep breath of air with a hint lemon freshener.

I checked the bedroom. It was small and cramped. A tiny closet sat on one side with a humble bed and nightstand on the other and maybe two pony’s width of walking distance in between. I spotted a shower a few steps beyond and a cleaner right next to it.

As far as apartments went, I couldn’t have asked for a better setup. Idly, I started tossing around the idea of trying to make it official. I’d have to talk to Joe, of course. He would know more about how to get everything squared away than anypony else I could imagine. I put it out of my mind. If I really liked it, I’d talk with him about it later.

I made use of the shower. Hot. Nice. No soap. Not so nice. I also put my flight suit in the cleaner, making a mental note to buy several replacements before I left on whatever other errand I needed to take care of. All told, I walked back into living feeling light a new stallion, clean and fresh and also a bit sleepy from the hot shower. For want of a glass, I took another long draught from the kitchen sink and then made my way back to the bedroom. As I passed the table, I stopped. Glancing backward, I had missed it before, I saw a note sitting on the dining room table.

Sorry for lying. This was the other part of that four hundred bits you owe me. I finally made some headway on Nightshade, but, knowing him, I didn’t want to bring it up while we were speaking in case he was listening in somehow. You know how he is. Anyway, listen up:

I found a contact.

I found somepony who has info on him. Legit info. But the pony’s holding out on me until I can guarantee his condition.

He wants to meet up.

I don’t like it. And I’ve got a bad feeling about this. My hunch is that he’s after Nightshade, and I’m pretty sure it’s not for a Pinkie party. Either way, I want to sit on this one for a bit. I’ll let you know what I find on a secure channel.

Destroy this note when you’re done reading it.
-Fritter

I crammed it down the sink disposal and let the blades do the rest.

***

It was hours later that I finally roused from sleep, still feeling the numb from sleeping on a wing. I groaned as I felt tiny needles work their way into the appendage, rolling over and stuffing my face into my pillow, intent on getting at least another ten minutes of shut-eye. An insistent buzz filled the air, floating in from the main lobby. It took my muddled a short while to realize that it was coming from the front door. Groaning, I rolled onto my side, opening one tired lid to stare at an alarm clock that Joe had so helpfully left behind when he had cleared everything else out. Assuming it was accurate, it was just past six in the evening.

The door buzzed again. With a resigned sigh I rolled over, sidling off the bed onto my hooves and working a kink out of my now only slightly numb wing, before slowly trudging into the foyer door and pressing my hoof solidly against the door control. There was a beep, and the door slid smoothly open.

I blinked, and my brain registered who was standing there.

"Morning Jess," I said with a tired yawn.

Jess looked amused, smirking ever so slightly while glancing over my person. “You know I wondered if I’d ever see you with bed head, but this is just priceless. Sleep well?”

I rubbed eyes with a foreleg before answering. “Was. How did you find me?” I said.

“Fritter. He was kind enough to point me in your direction. He also said he was going to be right along after he closed up shop for the night. Pretty useful buck, isn’t he?”

I smiled. “Yes he is. How was the hooficure?”

A dreamy smile crept onto her face. “Divine. If I could do that every day I’d be one happy mare," she said, before adding, "and completely broke." She shrugged. "But hey, if somepony else wants to treat me, I’ve got no complaints.” With another glance over my person, she turned a critical eye to what I assumed was my hygiene. “You look like you could use one too. Hey wait…” Jess stopped, tilting her head and squinting. Her eyes traced their way down my body, “Turn around a sec, I never got to see your cutie mark.”

I suddenly realized I was still naked. I shrunk back, covering myself with my tail and a modesty honed over years. The fact that it was a mare staring at me didn’t help things. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. "I... don't have one, Jess."

“Whoah! You’re blank flank?” Jess said, a trace of a laugh in her voice. It took sincere willpower not to hide. Being nude in front of other ponies was one of those things I just wasn’t comfortable with. But until I fetched my suit out of the cleaner, I really didn’t have much of a choice. Gritting my teeth, I just accepted it for what it was.

“Fader,” I managed with a grimace.

Her smile vanished. She winced, rubbing a spot behind her neck. "Sorry, it's easy to forget when you hide it so much," She said.

“It’s not important,” I sighed and stepped aside, “Come on in, there's no point in having you stand around out there.” Jess obliged, walking inside. “Where’s Tick?” I asked as the door shut behind her.

“She stayed behind with the ship,” Jess replied. “She wanted to get a head start on the repairs. I swear, that girl just does not know when to stop.”

I smirked, “Or maybe she enjoys what she does a little too much. I still think she’s bitten off more than she can chew with the Bandit. That ship is determined to stay broken if you ask me.”

“The way you fly it it’s a miracle we haven’t exploded already,” Jess said with a laugh.

I rolled my eyes. “Give it time.”

“Nice pad!” Jess exclaimed, wheeling around as she did her own investigation.

I grinned. “I know, right? I was thinking about asking Joe if I could actually lease it. It would be nice to actually have a place of my own, I think.”

Jess’ smile wavered. “Huh,” she said, thinking for a moment, "I thought your file said you were living in that old apartment complex back on L6-C."

I frowned. "Technically, yes, but calling that place an apartment is giving it too much credit. All I did was pay rent. The only part of that place that I actually owned was the couch, and If Junkyard had deigned to pay me more, I would have aimed for something actually livable."

Jess frowned. "I see..."

The buzzer rang again. It was probably more of a courtesy than anything else, since in the next moment the control beeped and the door slid neatly open. Fritter walked in with his normal, if slightly tired, cheer. “Well, I can honestly say that my new recipe was a bust. I only had two customers today only one of them ended up in the hospital."

Jess laughed, "You sound like you were aiming for two."

Fritter only smiled in response. After a moment he turned to me, "How ya doin Horizon? Sleep well?"

I nodded. “Well enough, I suppose. I think I owe Joe a few more favors for doing all this.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that or he might take you up on it,” Fritter laughed. Clearing his throat he asked, “You’re still looking for work, right?”

I frowned, “Always. Why do you ask?”

Fritter grinned, “Because I just got a sick lead on something big. Safer, this time, I swear. You like salvaging, right?”

My frown deepened. "‘Like’ is a subjective term. It was a job. I did it. I was pretty good at it. I can't use the drones right now, though, so anything we bring back is gotta be small.”

Fritter nodded, “It'll have to be good enough. Listen, I just got word back from a contact of mine about something that’s gotten some big wigs out in the NSR riled up.”

I raised an eyebrow. “If this is another goose chase, Fritter, I mean, hell, we just got back from one!”

“No no! Hear me out. This one’s probably legit,” he assured me.

“Probably?” I asked incredulously.

“Shush, just listen.” Fritter said. “One of my contacts from Junkyard's network told me that the NSR got word of some sort of ghost ship that somepony found out in the Veil, and I'm guessing it must be something real damn good, because they dropped everything to send a search party out for it, including a House flagship.”

“I fail to see how this concerns me,” I said.

“It also sounds to me like you’re planning piracy,” Jess added with a disapproving frown.

Fritter groaned, "Ugh, No. First off, I have standards, and second, I'm not that kind of pony." He huffed, "But if you must know, the only reason I'm bringing this up is because I think they might have run into some trouble. They were scheduled to be out only for a couple weeks at most. A brief investigation, and then that would be it. But according to my contact, they missed their last check-in.”

“And now I want to go even less," I said. "I’m not jumping into another shit show, Fritter. Nothing good ever came out of deep space. At least not in the movies, anyway.”

“Pah, that’s just superstitious nonsense,” Fritter replied. “This could be big. I don’t know what exactly why the NSR is so excited, but it has to be important if they were willing to send a bunch of ships after it. All I know, is that my contact is willing to pay for information on what happened to the convoy, so you don't even need to to find the ghost ship if you don't want to. Just figure out where the convoy disappeared to and we should both get paid. Besides, you can’t keep binging off your boss’s money forever.”

“Not if I have to keep paying what you’re charging me, no,” I replied. Although, he did have a point. I really couldn’t afford to pass up a lead at the rate I was burning through Junkyard’s bits. Part of me wanted to argue that it was not my fault, but… one thing has just been leading to another.

“Hey man, just because we’re friends doesn’t mean I work for free.” Fritter said, and then brightening, he turned to Jess, “Oh, by the way, Jess, I’ll get started on that thing for you tonight. It shouldn’t be too hard with what you gave me.”

Jess nodded.

"Thing?" I asked.

“I’m just tracking down my ship, don’t worry about it,” Jess said.

There’s a story behind that, I thought. I chose to ignore it.

“Alright then, Fritter. Dollar signs. How much is your contact willing to pay?”

“Well, if the convoy is important as it seems to be, then I’m wagering quite a bit-- several thousand, maybe more. The ponies who went missing were pretty high up the chain, so I'm told. I'll see if I can't wring more info out of him, in the meantime. Find that convoy.”

“And just how the hell am I supposed to do that? I can’t just pick random coordinates and hope for the best you know.”

“And that’s where I’ve got you.” Fritter said with a smile. Opening his saddlebag he pulled out a small data stick and handed it to me. “My contact had the rough location of the coordinates the NSR ponies were heading to. Follow those, and maybe they’ll be nearby.”

I looked at the coordinates and did some rough math in my head. I didn’t like the figures I was getting. “That’s a long way to go for something this vague,” I said, frowning. “Can it wait? I have enough stuff on my plate already in case you forgot.”

Fritter shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. This info is already a little old, and I don't think it’s going to last more than a few days before it becomes useless. I doubt the window on this is going to last even that long.”

I frowned, glancing at Jess for help. I was sure she, at least, could see why this was a terrible idea. She blanched, “What, hey! Don’t look at me! I thought our last little sortie was actually kinda fun. Tick certainly did, what with the way she kept gushing on and on about it during our hooficure.”

Fritter tried his best to calm my nerves, "I swear, Horizon, you're gonna be fine on this one. No dangerous traps or horrible encounters. Hell, if anything happens then I'll give your bits back. Scout's honor."

I quirked an eyebrow. "You don't seem like the type of pony I'd see in the colt scouts," I said.

Fritter blushed, "Yeah, heh, well, the things your parents make you do, right?"

It was hard to suppress my scowl. Somehow, I managed. "Fine. I’ll do it," I sighed, "But I'm not leaving until I can get the Bandit fixed. I want to make sure we're good and ready before we depart."

Fritter smiled, "Great! Let me know what you find."

And just like that, I was off on another wild goose chase. Yay.

Too bad I didn't know just what the hell I was getting into.

68% remaining...

Author's Note

Okay, so, anecdote from personal experience.

I've given autographs before. Legitimate autographs. I've sat at cons, I've signed a lot of things, up to and including a Twilicane Gravity Hammer from the Twilight Spartan Cosplayer. I can tell you from experience...

It feels weird.

It feels really, really weird.

I mean, here is some random person whom I don't know, who approaches me and my friends in the middle of an event and asks us if we'd be willing to sign some flimsy piece of paper that was probably going to get lost in a closet somewhere. Still, it has its perks. I still have a button that was a gift from someone who enjoyed the Donut Steel shorts I wrote and performed in. We also got to hang out in the green room with some of the other guests, which I've learned, is probably the most important part of any convention you'll ever go to. Forget the panels, the live events, everything. The meet and greet at the end of the con is the most important thing you do. It's where you make contacts that will carry with you in your career. But enough about that. I hope you enjoy the chapter. I know there are probably a few grammar snafus making their ugly way into the draft, but I don't have the eye to nail all of them just yet. I've done my best to trim it down, regardless. Enjoy!

16.5 - Emails Cont.

Chapter 16.5 - Supplementary

Emails cont.

J,

I have a favor to ask. And it’s kind of a big one. I’d rather ask it in person though, so let me know the soonest we can meet up. We’ve been friends for a long time now, and if I’m going to help, I’m gonna need you to help me help you, you know? Thanks.
-WS

J,

I did it. I managed to get a position in the armed forces where I can finally do some good. It’ll take time to figure out who I can trust, but once I do, I’ll be able to expand our network from there. Things are looking up. I’ve already found three like-minded ponies who’re looking for some payback against these jerks. I just need time, and resources. My funds are being monitored by my work for security purposes, so I’m going to need a separate bit account to deal with bribes. Think you can set something up for me?
-WS

SZ,

I understand that you might be a little surprised to see this email on such a sensitive information network, so please, do not panic. I mean you no harm. I merely have taken an interest in your research as of late. I’ve seen that you have been doing quite a bit of poking around lately, and on such a wide variety of interesting topics too. I could use a competent hoof like you. While I am sorry to hear of J’s death, you seem to be making excellent use of his network, so it is my hope that we can still work together in the future, if you are willing. Please, send me a line, sometime.
-0

[This message has been marked as Spam]
#$N@TURAL M@LE 3NH@NCEMENT!***) BUY N0W!!$$$$

J,

I think I found a lead on this 0 guy, albeit a really weird one. Now, this is just a fringe theory so take it with a few grains of salt, but, I don’t think this guy is inside any of the known star systems.

I’ve been taking some ships out on some scouting runs, checking random nodes to try and trace that signal. I still haven’t found much on the where end of things, but I might have a lead on the how. Weird signals have been popping up on the M-Net, and I’ve been trying to triangulate some of them to get a closer look at them. No such luck so far, but in the process we found something else. A ship.
It was only a short glance, and command would start asking questions if I tried to explain why I tried to cart it home, but we found an ancient battleship east of the Rim. A big one, and a really, really old one. I don’t know how, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we found this while looking for 0. Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to board, but all of the information we got from the various satellites you’ve been harvesting have been pointing to the ship as a possible lead.

We also found something else. Not even a short jump from the ship we found an M-Net repeater, only this one was running silent. It was still running, I checked, but it was locked out to all access, and without the correct codes and port numbers, I don’t think I’d be able to break in. I sent some word up the chain about them, implying that there might be some shadow network somewhere. That should at least get them to send more teams to investigate. As to who would be able to finance such a thing I’ve got no clue, but what I know for sure is that somepony, somewhere is fielding illegal repeaters to spread their own network. Next chance I get, I’m looking for more. In the meantime, what would you think about recovering that ship?
-WS

J,

We lost a big one today. The UCC authorized it despite the opposition we’ve been trying to build out there. A whole damn center full of the fucks. I don’t know what they’re planning, but I don’t like it, and it can’t be good. They’re not just working in the shadows any more. I worry about a full mobilization, but my allies here in the military just don’t see it. I’m getting frustrated here. How are things back home?
-WS

WS,

Please stop making traceable references. If anyone finds these messages they’re gonna find us. You know we can’t afford that.
-J

J,

Sorry. I’m still new at this.
-WS

Marevald, Monico, and Gramps would like to extend this very special offer to you for your continued patronage of the Paradigm Travel Agency, with our new frequent flyer program...

J,

Remember when we were younger, and I met my wife? Times were so much simpler then. No skulking around, dodging inspections and generally bucking up the system. Of course, that was before I had a kid. I… sorry. I know you hate it when I talk about personal stuff. I wanna drop by sometime soon and catch up. I have some leave coming up and I’d love to drop in. Let me know if we can arrange it.
-WS

J,

We don’t really talk anymore, do we? Feels like it’s all business between us now. This crusade, it’s eaten us. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it. Maybe I should have stayed home. Still, I’d love to talk again sometime, maybe when this is all over. I know we can’t now, for obvious reasons, but it’d be nice to just sit back and shoot the breeze, like we used to. Know what I mean? Update soon.
-WS

SZ,

Who are you? What do you want? and what do you mean J is dead?
-WS

17 - Beacon

Chapter 17
Beacon

“Oops.”

- 3347 E.C. While attempting to recover the M-Net hub on Equestria Prime, the central node shatters, triggering a full-scale network collapse. The remaining colonies are cut-off from all communication and thrust into an information dark-age. Two-thirds of modern knowledge is lost.

It was early the next morning, by the time that Tickintime had the Bandit spaceworthy. My offer to help with the repairs was rejected, pushed to the side as the mare enlisted the help of some truly bewildered techs who were just unfortunate enough to wander by while Tick was outside the craft. It wasn’t that I wasn’t capable, she told me, it was just that she already had her mouth full with managing the techs, and she couldn’t spare the attention.

I figured it was her polite way of saying that she didn’t want to babysit me. I took it in stride, and decided to run errands elsewhere.

One trip down to the commercial district later, I was quickly enveloped in the retail scene. My first stop was to purchase a few more flightsuits. This was sort of mandatory. In a marvelous spell of bad luck, the cleaner from the new apartment decided to eat my suit instead of clean it, leaving it with more holes than a block of swiss cheese. So, I had to purchase a new suit to replace it, and, knowing my luck, I made sure to get extra. The clerk behind the counter gave me an odd look when I explained my request, but she seemed to understand, so I ended up walking away with several spares in tow.

On my next stop I hit up one of the entertainment vendors for some holos to watch on the way over, as well as a short jaunt to a grocery store to pick up more rations and even some fresher supplies now that we had a working refrigerator. I stuck with edible raw greens for the most part. I couldn’t cook worth shit, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to bring any kind of burner on board.

My last stop was at a tech shop to have my WAND looked at. Sadly, the repairpony was sick for the day. Frustrated, I made my way back to the ship with the new purchases.

Tick had just finished repairs by the time I had finished getting all the new supplies loaded onboard. All patched up and mostly operational, the Bandit looked about as healthy as it ever had, minus an antenna or two. I had a short conversation with Tick about what exactly she had repaired. Most of it went over my head. Sadly, the drones were still offline. Internally I wondered if that was ever going to get done. A short while later, Nightshade showed up, and he brought a surprise.

“Whoah! Is that what I think it is?” Tick exclaimed, practically bounding toward Nightshade as he made his way down the platform. Trailing behind him was a square little machine that I recognized as the ClockDoc he’d used on me on so many weeks ago. It followed unsteadily in his wake, seemingly distracted by every pony that seemed to wander a little too close.

“Maybe, although if you’d actually explain what you’re thinking, I might be able to answer you.” Nightshade smirked and glanced in my direction. Something about him struck me as off. I stared for a few moments, trying to place it, until the glint on his forehead caught my eye.

I blinked. “You have a WAND,” I stated as he approached me. I took a moment to appreciate it. It was a brown, boxy thing, larger than your average WAND and shaped like it would comfortably slide down over the eyes like a pair of goggles. Despite its size, however, it didn’t look unwieldy, instead it moved easily with the rest of his head, almost as if it had no weight at all. My own WAND chose that moment to start an itch on my scalp that I had no hope of scratching.

“Obviously,” Nightshade replied with a grin. “I was feeling left out with all of you flaunting your own, and if we’re going to keep getting into trouble like this then I might as well bring my full kit.” His wand glowed with an almost imperceptible aura, and in a smooth movement Nightshade drew a pair of pistols from his saddlebags and spun them in the air with a flourish. I had all of about two seconds to look at them before he put them away again, nestling them in a pair of side holsters that fit just behind his withers. “I also brought the Doc just in case we need to synthesize any more antidotes. I get the feeling that we're probably going to need it going forward.”

Tickintime gasped. “It has chem suite?” She said with palpable glee.

“And a full-service medical kit,” Nightshade said with a smirk. “Just don’t mess with it, I’ve had to make a few modifications.”

Tick’s ears drooped a little. “Oh, fine,” she huffed.

“Good girl,” Nightshade chuckled. “By the way, Horizon, Jess said she would be right along, something about preparing for the worst.”

I later learned that she was loading up on more of her show for the trip. Don’t ask.

I nodded “As long as she doesn’t take too long, it’s fine, I guess,” I said. “Tick told me we’re good to go anytime. Isn’t that right, Tick?”

“Yeeup! All patched up and ready!” She replied happily, patting the ClockDoc with a hoof. The machine beeped in response, probably in irritation. Ugh, great now I'm starting to think they have personality. Thanks, Tick.

Nightshade nodded, and then moved the Doc onto the small loader for departure. I helped a little where I could, but between Nightshade's freakish earth pony strength and Tick's TK, the most I could do was course correct.

We stuck around for another hour until Jess finally showed up, smiling to herself like she had a big secret that she couldn’t wait to share.

“There you are, I was beginning to think we would have to leave without you.”

“What, and miss the party? Never.” Her WAND lit up and she levitated a small bag out of her pack, “I did manage to figure out how to fix my WAND, however. Think you can use these spare parts?” The bag opened and Jess slid out a few new fuses in mint condition. “I had a chat with one of the techs and he said that the power surge may have blown out some of the regulators protecting the memory. He cracked mine open and installed it, and now it works like a charm. I brought spares in case the rest of you needed them as well.”

Tick eagerly took them in her TK with a glint in her eye. “Awesome! Mine’s been busted too since our last outing, I’ll give it a shot later once we’re all settled.”

“Think you could fix mine too?” I asked Tick, a smidgen of hope rising in my chest. Dealing with with my WAND’s data problems was starting to drive me mad. If she could help...

“Yeah! Sure! I’d be happy to take a look at it,” Tick said a little too quickly, a slightly manic gleam surfacing in her eyes. Part of me began to fear for my safety.

I coughed uncomfortably. “Great. So, uh. Time’s a wastin so let’s, uh, get going," I said, putting as much distance as I could between myself and her.

We all made our way to the transfer plate, and from there the Bandit. “Nice speech,” Nightshade chided as we waited for the others to take their turn.

“Shut up, Nightshade.”

I had just settled into the hot seat and kicked on the power to the thrusters when I got a ping from the tower on the C-Band. Taking a bet as to who it was, I opened a line and braced for snark.

“This is the Scrap Bandit,” I said as I idly waded through the rest of my pre-flight checklist. I had just finished with the control board sequences by the time the they responded.

“We see you’re powering up, Horizon. Heading out already?” It was one of the tower bucks. Fortune, if I placed the voice correctly.

I smiled, remembering the drinks I’d had with them a short while ago. “Yeah, gotta chase that next bit, you know how it is.”

Fortune laughed. “Do I ever! Command has us pulling double shifts until our NCO comes back from vacation. It sucks, but eh, I can always use the extra bits. Well, wherever you're headed, be sure to tell us all about it when you get back; I can't wait to hear about what shit you land in next. Fly safe out there.”

“Thanks tower, I will.” The line closed with a pop. Leaving me in relative silence as the rest of the ship woke up and added to the general ambiance of the shipboard systems. I took a deep breath and smiled, enjoying the peace while I finished my list and prepped for departure.
I was just about ready to release the docking clamps, when the console beeped again with another hail, this one from a source I didnt' recognize.

I frowned, “Seems like I’m popular today,” I muttered, and then punched open the line. “This is the Scrap Bandit.”

It was Fritter. “Oh! Good! I caught you before you left,” he said. In the background I could hear music and the general murmur of ponies talking.

I attempted to make a connection. “Are you on a pay phone?” I asked.

“Uhp, sorta? not really. I’m at a club over in the e-district—It’s not important, but if you’re not busy after this dispatch, I was wondering if I could call in that favor you owe me.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What kind of favor are we talking here?” I said warily.

“What? Oh, nothing too bad! Honest! I just need you to pick up my wife and kid from the Core once you’re finished.”

I blinked twice. “Hang on, you’re married?” More importantly, he reproduced?

“I never told you?” Fritter responded, sounding surprised.

“No!” At least I don’t remember him telling me. No, I’m pretty sure he hadn’t.

“Yeah dude! It’s been pretty sweet too. My wife’s great, even if our work keeps us separated a lot.”

“What does she do?” I asked, pausing in my work with the control board.

“She works as an aide to the PC's ambassador to the Core.”

“Wow, that sounds pretty important,” I said.

“Not really,” Fritter replied. “She’s part of a retinue of about forty ponies. All she does is take notes all day. Anyway, her assignment is up and we’ve been talking about having her come out to see me here in the Rim while she’s on leave, so I was hoping that you could go pick her up for me? It’d save us a lot of money on hiring a shuttle,” he said.

Barring any external damage, I didn’t see why not. I still owed him anyhow, and it sounded simple enough. Easy, even. I mean, certainly there were worse things he could have requested.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll pick them up," I said. "Mind sending me the details?”

“Of course!” Fritter said excitedly. A few seconds later my WAND chirped. Well, tried to chirp, it sounded more like an electronic groan. Worried that it might have corrupted the data, I checked the dispatch, and, to my relief, everything looked to be in good order.

“Got it. I’ll pick them up on the way back,” I said, nodding to myself.

“Awesome! Thank you so much Horizon! You have no idea how much this means to me,” Fritter said.

“It’s my pleasure, Fritter. Really. I owe you this much at least.”

“That you do,” Fritter laughed. “Thanks!”

The line closed with a pop.

“Fritter is married,” I marveled. “Huh.”

I got back to work on getting us underway.

The first half of the trip took the majority of the day. Our heading was generally east, deeper into the galactic spiral and far outside of any known civilization. Why anypony would wind up out here was a mystery to me. While the gallant explorer might pick up a few bits prospecting for resources, there were far too many black holes out here to make it truly worth the risk. For safety’s sake, I made sure to load up on all the most recent star charts during the down time, so that by the time we hit the M-Net line, I had, at least, a decent idea of how to keep us from accidentally jumping into a dead star’s kill-zone. The scanners would help with that too, but I wouldn’t bet my life on anything connected to the Bandit, repairs or not.

Past the M-Net line, Jess took over piloting to give me a break. I took it gladly, making sure to score a short, if painful, nap on my couch along with a quick bite from one of the fresher rations while they still kept. I had a nice salad, with dried cranberries and a couple apples on the side, fresh from production. Or at least what I could get to my mouth. My WAND’s TK still wobbled horribly, and I ended up dropping some of my apple slices onto the deck. I died a little inside. Those apples were damn good. Grumbling, I finished the rest manually and cleaned up the mess from the some of the dressing that had gotten on the floor. When I had finished, I set about trying to find Tickintime, determined to put this WAND fiasco to an end. I found her in the cargo hold, working on yet another project.

“Hey Tick, got a moment?” I asked.

The mare in question looked up, a fresh smear of grease lining the side of her face. How it got there when she was using magic to hold everything I had no clue. “Yeah! Sure, what’s up?” she said.

“I was hoping you’d take a look at my WAND,” I said, nudging the device on my forehead with a hoof. It shifted in place and caught on a coat hair, painfully yanking it out of my coat as it moved. Thanks a lot, you piece of shit.

Tick didn’t notice my pain. Her expression brightened at the prospect of futzing with a piece of expensive hardware, however. My eyes locked on the length of pipe she was levitating beside her. Why did she have a length of pipe? What could she… oh, forget it. “Oh! Right!” I winced as the pipe suddenly dropped, hitting the deck with a loud clang. Tick didn’t care. Her horn still glowing, her aura resolidified around my head and I felt my WAND lift, the buckles effortlessly releasing as the device came off my head. It floated across the space between us as Tick floated over out some of the fuses Jess had brought before, and started looking it the WAND over.

Her eyes flicked across its surface with a searching, almost clinical expression as she turned the WAND over in her magic. After a moment, she whistled. “You know, now that I’ve gotten a better look at this thing, wow, this thing is really old. I mean, like, I don’t even recognize the model, old, and I’ve seen a few in my time.” She kept turning it over in her TK, examining it from all sides. “There’s no model number or anyth—ew.”

Tick recoiled, pulling out a clean-ish rag from her toolkit and hastily wiping the inside of the forehead and earpiece. “Much better,” she sighed, and then leveled a low-intensity glare at me, “You don’t take very good care of this thing, do you?”

I shrugged, “I haven’t been able to find many replacement parts for it, if that’s what you mean. It’s a hand-me-down. It belonged to my dad, and his dad,” I stopped to think, “and his dad…”

Her face scrunched as she stopped me with a hoof. “I get it. You’re using an antique. Still… even if it is old, there should at least be a model number.” Tick frowned as she continued turning it over. “It looks like it could use a good polishing too. Ah! There’s the access panel.” Part of the backplate of the WAND peeled off revealing the devices insides. Then, one of my secret horrors unfolded before me.

It took a lot of willpower not to cry out when one by one, parts started flying out from my WAND’s insides and into the air around Tick’s head. As they flew by the mare briefly glanced at each of them and then added them to the ever growing, disorganized cloud that was assembling around her, stopping only when she came to the focusing gem itself.

“Something wrong?” I asked, warily eyeing the part-nado surrounding her and silently giving my WAND Luna’s last rite.

Tick tilted her head, scrutinizing the stone while various parts made their way back into my WAND, freshly cleaned, I realized by the floating rag in her TK. She lifted the gem up to eye level, and then gave me a weird look.

“What kind of focus is this?” she asked, lifting the stone a few more inches in my direction, “It sure as hay isn’t Topaz.” The gem gleamed yellow-orange in the ship’s lighting, maybe even closer to a shade of gold, if that was at all possible. Outside of its inset, it held a sort of inner light, weak enough to avoid casting shadows, but strong enough to be noticeable even within comfortable lighting. I liked it. It sorta matched my eyes, even if it was probably something stupid like Sulphur. I made a mental note to avoid dropping it in a dryer anytime soon. “You said your WAND was a family Heirloom?” Tick asked.

I nodded, that was about the gist of it.

“It shows,” she said, setting the stone aside and starting her work the rest of the parts. “I’ll polish the gem and inset. They might be old, but they seems like they're still in really good shape. Once I get the contacts clean and shiny, it should work like new,” she shrugged, “well, mostly new,” she amended. “Jess’ tech was right about the fuse problem—I fixed mine earlier. Yours needs them too, but it also needs a little more TLC,” She paused, pulling several parts down from the cloud and frowning at them, “and maybe a few more up-to-date parts. I mean, not to say these are bad parts or anything! In fact, these actually look like they’re rated for some pretty high power values, it’s just the problem with the-” she blinked. “I’ve lost you, haven’t I?”

I nodded sheepishly. All this tech jargon, maybe if I had enough time to study I'd be able to keep up with it, but on the fly, she might as well have been speaking Japonese.

Tick rolled her eyes and sighed. “Figures. I’ll need a few minutes to finish with this. Till then, shoo!” She scooted me toward the door with a wave of her hoof. I took the hint before she started forgetting what went where and scooted out to wait in the living area until she was done.

I spent the wait in the living area, splayed out on the couch with nothing to do. I had already slept so I still had plenty of energy, which meant that sleeping was pretty much out. Briefly, I entertained the idea of watching something on the holo, but decided against it. Watching a movie by myself felt kinda lame when everypony else was keeping busy. So instead, I was equally lame and just waited like I was at the doctor’s office. After sitting there for nearly an hour, I had just gotten up to stretch a little when Tick finally walked in, my WAND floating in her TK and shining like it was brand new.

“All done!” she announced with a big smile. “Try it out!” She gently floated it to me. I took it, and, turning it over in my hooves, strapped it on. With a short tug and a click, it settled into place with an almost organic sensation. It felt weird. Whatever magic she had done, she had fixed the buckle. Now it the damn thing fit like it should have. Snug, but not too tight, and not too loose either. Just right.

“Got a mirror?” I asked with a smirk.

“No, but you’ve got a unicorn,” she replied with a smile. Her horn glowed green and the air in front of me rippled into my reflection. Now that’s gotta be convenient. Maybe I should have been born a unicorn. Well, maybe not. I wouldn’t trade my wings for anything.

My WAND looked great. The casing gleamed like it never had before, and the gem looked fantastic. If I thought it was nice and clear before, I was wrong. It absolutely shined now, cleaned of whatever film had grown over it over the years. Tick was right, I really had been slacking on my maintenance.

I ran it through a quick diagnostic, and was satisfied to see the text back to normal. Well, mostly. There was still an odd bug here or there, but it didn’t seem to have any trouble levitating things anymore. It also seemed to work much, much faster, so that was a bonus.

“Perfect. Thanks Tick,” I said. I meant every word. I don't know how much longer I could have put up with its quirks.

“Anytime!” She said cheerfully.

The Sparkle drive started winding up.

My smile fell. “Brace for nausea,” I said, looking up in the general direction of pilot's cabin.

Flush.

Six more jumps. Six more hours. We all settled back into our routines for the rest of the trip. Past the M-Net line, Nightshade stopped whatever it was he kept doing on the comm suite and contented himself to doing exercises in the cargo bay while Tick took her project elsewhere. I debated joining him. Luna only knew how out of shape I was becoming with how little flying I had been doing over the past few weeks. Just the thought of it was making my wings itch, or maybe that was just the wing sheaths. It’s hard to tell when you’ve worn them as long as I have. We were two jumps away from our destination when Jess got on the horn.

“Horizon, would you come up here, please?” she said, her voice crackling over the comm.

I opened a channel on the S-Band with my WAND. “Yeah, I’ll be right up,” I said as I clambered off the couch and started off toward the ladderwell. Less than a minute later, I was walking through the door to the pilot’s cabin.

“All right, Jess, what’s the problem?” I asked, glancing over the scene. Jess leaned around the chair to look at me, and waved me over with a nudge of her head. I complied, glancing down at the control board for issues.

Jess turned back to the board, her WAND alight as she flipped various switches in prep for the next jump. “No, problem, I just wanted your opinion on something. Check it out.” She motioned toward the comm suite indicators. “I’ve picked up a signal, it’s faint, but it’s also strong enough to home in on if we get a little closer on our next jump. It’s only a little way out of the way.”

I glanced at her, chewing the inside of my cheek. “Do you think it might be our convoy?”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure. The signal is pretty weak and at this distance it’s just a blip. Want to get closer?”

One jump. Well, that shouldn’t take too long. “Why not,” I said, “if we get closer and we can safely determine what it is, then I don’t see any reason not to. Just don't put us right on top of it just yet.”

Jess smiled, leaning forward in the chair and looking back at the controls. “That’s what I was hoping to hear,” she said, punching up the Sparkle Drive.

We jumped in short order. The discontinuity washed over me like a mild hangover. As my stomach settled, the sensors started making noise again.

Bree Breep.

Ah, my old friend. We meet again. Wait, that one sounded different.

I checked the source. The scanner was mercifully empty—take that, Ping!—but the comm suite was going nuts. A weak signal was broadcasting a short distance away, still garbled, but now that we were closer to it, I could at least see what frequency it was on, and I could think of only one thing that reported on that frequency. We were picking up a distress signal.

“Sonuvabitch,” I muttered. “Are you seeing this? Jess?”

She glanced at the panel, and checked something with her WAND before looking up at me, a frown tugging at her lips. “Yeah. What do you want do about it?”

I frowned too. This was a difficult choice.

They warn you in flight school that civilians should never respond to distress calls. Rather, you should contact the authorities and have them deal with it instead. It saves you time, keeps the police employed, and also keeps you alive. As fun as it might be to play hero to some unfortunate soul, there was a huge risk involved: Pirates. Pirates. Loved. Beacons. After all, what better way to lure an unsuspecting victim than a distress call? And what was more, unless you had a robust Sparkle drive, once you made the decision to jump, you weren’t going anywhere. It was a design flaw that worked perfectly in their favor. If we jumped in to play hero and something nasty was waiting, we’d be dead or worse. I had no confidence in the Bandit’s combat capabilities. We might have been armed, but two small energy turrets was a pretty small stick compared to ships that killed for a living.

That wasn’t to say that you should never respond to a distress call, however. It’s one of those catch twenty-twos that fought between ethics and reason. Sure, you should probably contact the authorities, but would the authorities arrive in time? If it was a legitimate signal, did the survivor have that long? What if it was a vessel under attack? What if it was a victim of an attack? What if they simply had a damnable malfunction? What would I think if I were in their boots? That last question is the real stinger. If I was adrift in deep space with little hope of rescue, of course I would want somepony to rescue me. The odds of actually being randomly found in space were astronomically low, especially with as weak of a signal as the one we were getting. And if you’re like me and you only have twenty-four hours on your air talisman, your chances of survival might not even be calculable. Not in your head, anyway. In any case, logic would have to prevail.

This signal was weak, and off the grid. If we went to investigate and it was a trap, we wouldn’t have any backup within calling range, but the idea of it being a trap also seemed a little far-fetched to me. We were literally out in the middle of nowhere. No reasonable traffic would come this way, which meant it would be a real shitty place to set up a mousetrap, unless of course you were determined to lose cheese. Still, we could at least listen to the signal.

“Might as well listen,” I said, hooking into the feed with my WAND. I winced as a piercing shriek of static blared in my ears while I dialed it in. I kept adjusting the signal until it was finally coherent enough to get most of the message, if broken up by the bursts of static it was fighting through.

“...message repeats. Critical distress... name is Es... -SRS Hightower. My crew and my ship... attacked by pirate... destroyed…-upplies... gone… feels like weeks. If anyone… please respond. Coordinates are…”

I wasn’t liking what I was hearing. The buck on the line sounded more defeated than desperate, less like he was hoping for rescue and more like he was simply repeating the words to hear himself talk. It was the sound of somepony waiting for death, and that sent a chill through me that made my wings quaver. I listened to the message again and again until I got all the coordinates he’d been repeating and then cut of the feed. Doing a little head math, I checked them against the ones I had received from Fritter. They were awfully close to our destination. I needed a second opinion on this, although, if I was a betting pony...

“What do you think, Jess?” I asked, my expression grim. From the way her eyes were focused, I figured she must have been listening too.

Jess looked thoughtful for a moment, glancing at the control board before returning her attention to me. When she spoke, she had a sort of cold professionalism about her. “I think it’s unusual that pirates would lay any traps out here. No one flies out here regularly so it wouldn’t be practical for hunting targets. They would have to wait for too long, and I doubt they’d get from killing explorers would pay for the cost of their supplies. My gut tells me this one is legitimate. He might be part of that convoy.”

“That’s about what I thought too." I said, nodding. And then, after taking a deep breath, "Fuck it. Let’s help this poor bastard.”

“This is Horizon Seldat of the Scrap Bandit, transmitting on a secure line. We are responding to your distress call. Please respond.”

We waited in the relative silence of the pilot's cabin, listening to the low crackle of the radio as I tried again to hail the source of the distress signal. The others had crammed inside the cabin, hovering around the console and waiting quietly for the pony to reply. The silence dragged on and on. When the buck finally started speaking again, it was to repeat the same message he'd been broadcasting since we had first picked it up.

“This is Horizon Seldat of the Scrap Bandit, transmitting on a secure line. We are responding to your distress call. Please respond,” I repeated.

Once again my call was met with silence.

“Maybe he can’t transmit?” Nightshade suggested.

I frowned. It was plausible. It could have been that his comms were damaged when he was attacked. The signal strength certainly supported that theory. Maybe there was a problem with his receiver? There were too many uncertainties, with that theory, however. “I don’t like it,” I said.

“Well, like it or not, we’re going to be right on top of him on our next jump,” Jess said from the controls. “The drive is just about ready. Last call to change your mind.”

“Who are we saving, anyway?” Nightshade asked.

I shook my head. “To be honest, I have no idea. The transmission was too garbled to make everything out, but it sounded like it might the captain of our convoy.”

Nightshade arched an eyebrow, “really?” His voice was flat enough to land on.

His tone gave me pause. “What? is something wrong?”

“You do know that most captains in the NSR are nobles, right?” Nightshade said.

I grimaced, “Great… a noble.”

“What’s wrong with nobles?” Tick asked with the barest hint of a tremor in her voice.

Nightshade simply chuckled.

Admittedly, I didn’t have much contact with nobles in my position. L6-C didn’t have many, and what few that we did have were usually visiting dignitaries, or some extremely rich pony checking on their investments. Wait long enough in the queues, however, and you’re bound to pick up on some of their traffic. Prism dealt with them more than I did, and probably Jess, given her choice of occupation. Me? I was just somepony in their way. The last time I met a noble on L6-C, the snob bumped into me in a hallway and called me several very unimaginative names. We had a junkyard-esque discussion. He got a black-eye. I got arrested, and then I got dropped off on the way to the station with a pat on the shoulder and a hoofbump.

Of course there was also that time with MegaMillions, but she’s just a rich cunt, so she doesn’t count. Suffice to say, my opinion of nobles wasn’t exactly good.

“What isn’t wrong with nobles?” I told Tick, and before she could form an answer I barrelled onward, “They’re rude, entitled, stupid-”

Jess joined my momentum, trading off with me as we listed insults, “Arrogant, cheap,”

“Stuck-up.”

“Proud.”

“And never worked a damn day in their lives,” I finished.

Nightshade said nothing, content to look amused while wearing his damnable grin.

Tickintime looked sick. “Yeah… right, um, s-sorry I asked,” she mumbled.

I shook my head. “Nah, it’s not a problem. We’ve just had some bad experiences, that’s all.” I’d had enough close encounters with Karma too. Enough to know that I wasn’t being fair, I sighed, “I’m sure there’s probably some other ponies out there who don’t fit the mold, but still, most of them are assholes.” Funny how Karma always tended to favor the rich. Idly, I wondered if it could be bribed. Well, even if this pony did end up being a noble, we wouldn’t find out until we picked him up, and if I was in his horseshoes...

I looked at Jess. “Noble or not, do it.”

Jess nodded and punched the button. The sparkle drive charged and flashed. It was time to see if the lion was home.

The cycle completed. My stomach settled. Silence overtook the Bandit.

“We’re on grid.” Jess said as she rechecked the control board. “And we’ve got objects in space near our position. Hang on a second and I’ll get us aligned.”

The ship shuddered as the maneuvering thrusters fired, inching up our view of the surrounding space through the cabin’s viewport. Slowly, the stars outside sank down in the window and I squinted into the dark of space to try and make out what we were looking at.

“Nightshade could you get the lights?” I asked.

Nightshade nodded, and then reached over to turn off the cabin lighting so we could see more clearly.

As my eyesight adjusted, my breath hitched.

“Hoooooleeeeeey shit,” I said.

Whatever had done this, was not your ordinary pirate.

“What? what is it? I can’t see!” Tick said, trying to peek out the viewport from behind Nightshade.

I heard Jess gasp as she looked up from the controls.

It was a sight of pure, unadulterated carnage. Some ships had been fighting here, alright, and from my count, not many made it out. It looked like something out of a war flick. Glinting dimly in the light of distant stars, several ships floated dead in space, so thoroughly blasted apart by weapons fire that I could hardly tell their armor from their superstructure. Pieces of the ships had been messily sheared off, the debris scattering so far as to blend with the nearby wrecks to the point where I couldn't tell what belonged to which. By my estimate there were at least two, maybe four ships here, but where one ship stopped and another began was impossible to tell.

Smaller things glinted in the light too, scattered among the debris cloud. With a sickening realization, I realized what they were pony shaped.

Bodies. So many bodies. Smaller cylindrical pods had been blasted apart further from the wreckage, the remains of escape pods, if I could have hazarded a guess. Among them, frozen, bloated pieces of ponies floated in the empty space between them. I felt bile rising in my throat at the sight. Whoever had done this, they had made sure there were no survivors.

Yet…

BreeBeep.

There was at least one. Part of me had a very bad feeling about this, but we were already committed. Whatever happened next, we’d have to live with the results.

“This is awful.” Tick breathed, staring at the wreckage in unabashed horror.

“No kidding,” Jess said, a grim expression on her face. “I’ve seen pirate attacks before, but this is a new low. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything this… thorough,” she nearly spat the word. I didn’t blame her, it left a bad taste in my mouth too.

“And somewhere in all this, there’s a pony.” I swallowed as Jess fired up the thrusters, taking us into the wreckage. I looked away from the scanner in time to see us pass a blasted escape pod and the dead ponies within. “Somewhere,” I repeated under my breath.

Steeling myself, I set the scanner to active and got to work, falling into an age old rhythm. Finding something valuable inside wreckage was my job. I’d done it for years, and regardless of the carnage, I did it now. With a little focus, I became detached, ignoring the bodies and focusing more on the ripped superstructures of the ships before me. Details started coming to me as I switched between what I could see, and what the scanners were reporting.

Fire control system here, ruined. Life support there, unsalvageable. Access corridor, still occupied. For a moment I thought I saw movement inside a portion of deck that looked like a barracks, but it was just a pile of floating scrap metal. I ignored it and moved on, discarding the detail like the rest I didn't need. I went through the same process for each destroyed vessel. Scanning, searching, and ignoring anything that didn’t look useful. Very little of what I might have been able to bring back would make good salvage, and without the drones, I really had no hope of bringing it back intact. I frowned. This wouldn't be a good salvage run by any measure. Hopefully, Fritter's contact could come through with the money for the info.

As I started working on what looked like the last ship, I struck gold.

I double checked the scanner. It found a strong hit on the ship's underside with a faint energy signature. “I think I’ve got it.” I said. “signal source, two clicks at two o’clock. Underside.”

“Roger.” Jess said, kicking the thrusters on and moving us down and around the wreck. We trundled forward, overtaking a wasted chunk of unuseable ship while smaller bits and pieces bounced off the hull. I kept a sharp eye out for the more dangerous chunks, just in case. Within a few minutes, we had rotated around, and were staring into the gaping ventral cavity of a dead starship.

I squinted, trying to pierce through the dark side of the ship as I searched for anything that could transmit, and then spotted it. A large spherical pod floated intact amid a split piece of ship wreckage, wedged between a pair of beams that had bent from several impacts. I pointed. Jess nodded and swung the spotlights on point. I frowned.

It was somepony’s sick joke. On the outside of the pod some asshole had welded the words “Roxie was here” into the escape pod’s armor plating. What was worse, was that the ‘o’ was framed directly over the hatch. There would be no recovering it from that direction. I tried to gauge its size and determined that the pod might be just small enough to fit through the cargo scoop.

“Hey Tick, how fast do you think you could clear out the cargo hold if you had help?” I asked.

Tick jumped. “Wha? sorry?”

I repeated my question.

“Oh, s-sorry, um, maybe… ten minutes?” She said..

“You’re thinking of scooping it, aren’t you?” Jess said, looking back at me.

“I don’t think we’ll be getting into it any other way, and there’s no telling if the pony inside has a suit or not, and the drones are still out of order.” I really needed to get those fixed.

Jess nodded grimly.

Ten minutes was an underestimate. It took us fifteen to clear the cargo hold and another ten to prep the scoop. Once Tick fixed a last minute air leak on the hatch, we were set. We flushed the air from the cargo hold and set the scoop to active. Jess did the rest. I headed up to the cabin to watch her work.

Jess glanced back at me as I entered. I gave her the nod, and she started to trundle up the engines. As she worked, I opened up a channel on the S-Band to signal Nightshade who had volunteered to work the turret. “Alright Nightshade, we’re ready here. Shake it loose but don’t hit it.”

“On it,” Nightshade replied.

The ship trembled. Several flashes of light struck the wreckage beams where the beams were holding the escape pod. It shifted from the pounding, the steel beams glowing redder and redder until finally one of the beams gave in and came loose, dislodging the pod and sending it gently rolling into open space.

Jess didn’t need a signal. As soon as the pod was free, we trundled forward toward it. I turned my attention to the capture monitor. A box with a crosshair marked our target, which wavered back and forth as Jess adjusted our trajectory. We had to be careful. If we captured too fast we risked destroying the pod and damaging the ship, or worse, missing it entirely and pasting whoever was inside against our hull. Jess handled it like a pro. Even as we rapidly closed the distance, she stayed completely on target. I would have been impressed under different circumstances. Then again, it was technically a basic skill.

“And, capture!” I called out. The ship jolted as the pod entered the scoop. I closed the hatch and turned from the controls, eager to get downstairs. On my way, I passed Nightshade as he climbed down from the turret, and Tick, as she started moving piles of parts back inside the cargo hold. I followed her inside.

Up close, the pod was an ugly sight. It wasn’t untouched. It seemed to me that the same ship that had blasted apart the other escape pods had taken a few potshots at this one as well. Deep gashes sat in its armor plating where weapons fire had grazed it, as well as smaller, almost claw-like marks on the hatch exterior. The small window in the hatch had been blacked out, vandalized with with a slew of graffiti in a language I didn’t recognize.

Behind me, Nightshade whistled. “Somepony had fun.”

I grimaced and snorted. “And not the good kind,” I said as I inspected the welding on the hatch joints. “I’ll go fetch a cutter. Could one of you grab some medical supplies?”

“I got it!” Tick called as she vanished into the hallway.

I moved over to where I kept my spare plasma cutters and pulled one out along with a spare charge. I priming the charge, I got to work. Can, meet can opener. A piercing squeal broke the air as I started attacking the weldings locking the hatch shut as well as the hinges that held it in place. It was short, easy work. After waiting a moment for the sides to cool, Nightshade braced on the other side of the hatch and with a heave, we pried it off its ruined hinges and dumped it on the ground with a loud bang. Tipping my head over the lip of the opening, I took a look at the pony inside.

He was still alive. That was good. From the way he had been transmitting, I feared that it might have been some kind of loop. Glad to know that I was wrong. The pony was a middling pegasus, probably in his early thirties, with a flame orange mane and a bright yellow coat. Despite his impressive coloring, however, he looked like a shitpile. His face looked gaunt, as he if hadn’t eaten in weeks and his color, while bright, seemed subdued. His clothing was in even worse shape. He wore what looked like an old military uniform, and on that note, a high ranking one. Half an epaulet dangled from his shoulders, severed by something sharp, while the rest of his white and gold uniform had torn near his wings and was smeared with filth. Flecks of dried blood surrounded gashes in his outfit near his chest and withers. The gashes looked suspiciously like claw marks. Resting just off of one of his shoulders and tucked neatly beneath one of his wings was an ornate scabbard, the pommel of a saber sticking out of it.

“Are you... real?” The pony asked. He squinted at us. Given his condition, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he couldn’t see at all. Faintly I could see his eyes, his irises holding the same flame orange as his unruly, tousled mane underneath the glint of a WAND on his forehead.

His WAND was incredible. I’ve seen nice WANDs before, usually on the heads of state, or very important government officials. This one took the cake. It looked like it was made of solid gold. A deep blue sapphire sat enshrined underneath a delicate working of woven gold vines, the resulting look resembling something more akin to a crown than a utility piece. If I had any doubt if he was a noble before, well, I had no doubts now.

“Yeah, we’re real.” I replied. I tried to smile. I think it came off as more of a grimace.

Whatever my expression, the pony didn’t seem to mind. He sat down heavily, the sheath of his saber clacking against the floor as he slumped in place. “Oh, thank Celestia,” he breathed. “I was worried I was starting to hallucinate once the pod started moving. Pardon my asking, but you wouldn’t happen to have any spare food would you? I’m afraid I’m a bit famished.”

“Definitely. Why don’t we pull you out of this can while we’re at it?” I said with a smirk. The pony nodded and limped weakly forward. Nightshade and I looped our legs around his barrel and heaved, lifting him up and out of the pod and setting him safely down. He seemed to deflate once he hit the ground, as if all the stress in the world had just left him. He sniffled, a little moisture entering his eyes before he swallowed, and a calm, confident, if weary, mask settled over his features.

The yellow pegasus took another deep breath, before he looked up gave me a warm smile, “I can’t thank you enough for this. I owe you more than my life.”

Something metal hit the ground and rolled. Several cans of medical spray rolled into view, trailing flecks of small bandages. I looked up to see Tickintime standing rooted in the doorway, significantly paler and staring at the buck with a look of sheer terror.

"Tick? What's wrong," I asked.

"Tick?" The pegasus said, and with a quizzical eye, turned his head, looking past me and toward the door. "Who..." he trailed off, his tired eyes squinting at Tickintime for a moment before he wiped them with his hooves and looked again. “No, way.” He said, dumbfounded. Then he snorted. Not an angry snort, the kind of snort you make when you’re trying and failing to stop laughing. “Goddesses alive! It is you! Hah! Gah!" The pegasus collapsed on the floor clutching his sides, but still laughing, "Damn it, it hurts!”

Tick stood rooted to the spot, her mouth working soundlessly, as she tried to form vowels that simply wouldn’t come.

“Uh, did I miss something?” Jess said, entering the cargo hold from behind Tick. She paused in the doorway, and then looked back at where Nightshade and myself were standing with the castaway.

“ESTOC?!” Tickintime shrieked at a volume that would leave my ears ringing for a while. If anything, her exclamation made the pegasus double over even harder.

“You know him?” I responded incredulously.

“Know me? Hah!” the pegasus said between pained bouts of laughter, “I’d say she damn well should! She’s my fiancée!”

The statement hung in the air for nearly thirty seconds. Tick turned a shade of red that would have been at home in a rose garden. In a panicked fit, she rapidly started looking for places to hide, squeaking in the process. Finding nothing, she shrank, trying very hard to sink into the floor.

“Well, was my fiancée,” Estoc amended. “She… never told you who she is, did she?” The buck wore a smile like a colt who had just found a missing Hearth’s Warming present.

Tick brought her head up sharply and then shook it rapidly as if to cut him off.

"And here you are, still running," he said absentmindedly. "No longer." The smile he gave her was nothing short of predatory. “Consider us even.”

Tickintime looked sick.

'Estoc' rose to his hooves, limped a short distance between us, and, with a clean turn, fluffed the tattered remains of his cloak with an air of practiced grandeur. “May I present to you, her Ladyship, Ms. Tickintime Aurora Clock. Heiress to the Clock family fortune, and first in line to succeed her father, Pendulum Clock, of Clockwork Industries.”

Clock. Where had I heard that before name before? It took me longer than I'm willing to admit to make the connection.

ClockDoc.

"Horseshit," I said.

"Tick, is that true?" Jess said. She looked just about as shocked as I felt.

Numbly, almost pitifully, Tick nodded.

Luna's holy space shit.

If my jaw could have hit the floor, it would have. No wonder she could afford all the parts she kept buying, she probably had a bank account the size of a station’s annual budget! Which also would also make her… oh, dear. I suddenly found myself regretting my earlier comments about nobles. A lot of things about her suddenly made sense, though.

Tick dumped bits like she didn't care. Buying parts for the Bandit, her projects, hell I was willing to bet she was also buying shit for her old job, excuse me, volunteer work on that asteroid colony. She was obviously intent on pursuing her special talent and had an almost creepy affinity for all things machine. Anypony else in that kind of position would be hard pressed to be that good at what she did that early, but her? Well, she certainly had the resources to get there. The realization was something of a blow to my self-esteem. Her special talent was her passion, and a hobby. Most ponies did things because they needed to put food on their plates. She did it because she could. She did it because she liked it. She had a sort of freedom that I could only dream of, and boy was I envious.

Now, I don’t know where the obsession with machines came from, maybe it was a byproduct of her upbringing in a family that literally drove most of the modern medical and mechanical innovations for much of the galactic machine. My best guess is that she had nigh exclusive access to the best and brightest minds in the industry for her entire life, and that enthusiasm blended into her special talent. After all, being around smart ponies tends to rub off if you're willing to apply yourself, and from how I'd seen her work, she certainly knew how to apply herself.

Whatever schooling she had, she had all the free time in the world to work on the things she liked, with no restraints on the cost of said things. Ever. No wonder she treated money like it didn’t matter. To her, it probably didn’t. Her volunteer work could probably be explained by the fact that she just enjoyed doing it. It didn’t explain why she was all the way out on the colony, however. It also didn’t answer the bigger question: if she was a noble, then why wasn’t she a huge bitch?

Truly, a question for the ages. And a question for later. Oh well, one mystery solved, another gained.

“Equestria to Horizon,” Jess said with a smirk, nudging me with a hoof. “Come in, Horizon.”

“Call it. We’ve lost him,” Nightshade said, “Time of death, oh-four-hundred hours.”

Jess swatted him with a wing. “Be nice. Also, it’s oh-four-oh-five.”

I recovered and gave both of them the best glare I could manage. All I got for it were a couple of grins.

“I imagine your father is probably still seething after you pulled that vanishing act on us. While I know neither of us were looking forward to our little arrangement, I’m sure you could have found a better way to say you weren’t interested.”

“It wasn’t going to stop. You know that.” Tick replied in a low tone.

“Yes, I know. Believe me. Not even a week after my mother wed me off to a Stone.”

“And how was she?” Tick said blithely.

“As witty as her namesake,” The pony replied, “I fulfilled my obligation and sent her home.”

“How lovely for her,” Tick said with mock enthusiasm, “I do hope your arrangement hasn’t left her destitute.”

“It was a strategic victory for both of us,” Estoc replied in a clipped tone, "Much like another arrangement that I'm sure would have been far more preferable."

I cleared my throat in irritation. “If you’re done harassing my mechanic, could you please explain to me just who the hell you people are?” I said.

The pony regarded me with a surprised but tired smile and then drew himself up to his full height. “My apologies, I am Prince Estoc Morningstar of the New Solar Republic, first in line to the throne of House Morningstar, and also, greatly in your debt,” he said. It was hard for me to tell if the warmth in his voice was genuine. Given his position, it was probably practiced.

I worked my mouth into a smile. It took effort not to despise him on principle. He seemed a decent enough sort, even if a little petty. But, then again, I could be petty too.

“Charmed,” I said flatly. It was supposed to be warmer. I really suck at this.

“Did you say, Prince?” Jess said in shock. If I didn’t know better I would almost say she looked starstruck.

The pony withdrew a small signet from his coat pocket and shined it in the light. “I did indeed,” he replied.

Jess stared at the signet with wide eyes.

“Why don’t we get you situated.” Nightshade interrupted, “You need meds and food. Thankfully, we’ve got plenty of both.”

Prince Estoc brightened “Food! Yes. Food would be wonderful, thank you. Celestia knows when I last ate.”

***

We let the buck eat in relative silence, not that we would have had much with any talking in the meantime. As soon as we put food in front of the poor guy, he threw his well-to-do manners out the window and dived in like a pro. He apologized later for it, of course, but the show was still entertaining. Apparently, eating like a pig is something so primal that you can't quite kill it with etiquette. Either way, the food had done him a world of good, and I could already see his color returning by the time we were ready to jump away from the convoy’s wreckage. I breathed a sigh of relief once we were out. I was worried about pirates when we had first jumped in. Now that we were away there was little chance of them finding us if they were, in fact, still in the area. We ended up stalling certain core systems in order to speed the drive’s cooldown and then headed back down to where the others were waiting.

The prince had settled in well enough. While he was still glancing at the couch and poking it uncertainly for other surprises, he looked healthier. He had stripped out of his tattered outfit, his yellow backside bearing the mark of a star and a long, thin sword. I figured—correctly, I later learned—that it was his namesake. Nightshade stood near him, winding a bandage around his midsection, having just finished administering what looked like a few healing salves on his other cuts and wounds, and was now tending to the pony’s wing. The prince did his best not to wince as Nightshade drew the bandages tight and set the pin.

Jess and Tick were off in the corner having a conversation when I entered the living area. They afforded me a small glance, but didn't stop their conversation, so I turned my attention to the new pony.

“So, uh, your highness…” I started.

The prince raised a hoof to stop me, “Just, Estoc, is fine. I’ve had enough of titles for one lifetime, believe me. Anyone who is willing to save my life is my friend.”

“Estoc, then,” I corrected. “Just what the hell happened to you back there?”

“Yeah,” Jess cut in as she walked over with a reluctant Tick in tow, “I don’t think I’ve seen a pirate attack that bad before. How many ships were in your convoy?”

The yellow buck stopped a moment to think, “That is a bit of a complicated question, and I’m not exactly sure if my answer will satisfy you.”

“We’ve got time,” I said flatly.

“Well as to the second question, three, including my own. We were ambushed by a group of pirates on our way to our destination.” He frowned, “How they got the coordinates I have no idea, but I suspect treachery.”

“Three ships, how did the pirates avoid taking losses? Weren’t your ships armed?” Jess asked.

“Heavily, but we were outclassed,” Estoc explained.

“Outclassed? A flagship was outclassed,” Jess said, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Estoc repeated, “We were outfitted for exploration, so most of the heavy armaments had been removed in favor of more practical equipment. We weren't prepared for combat against flagship and a combat escort. They tore us to bits. Of course it didn't help that they led with their damnable chromehounds."

Jess shivered.

"What's a chromehound?" I asked. It was the first time I'd ever heard of it, outside of a vague reference in a comic book.

Estoc looked at me, "What do you know of ancient Equestria?"

I shrugged, "It was awesome?"

Estoc smiled. "Indeed, well one of the native species was a sprite called a 'Timberwolf'"

"That sounds incredibly corny," I said.

"Laugh all you want. They were predators in ancient times. Beings of wood and enchanted sap. Dispersable, but hard to kill."

"Now replace the wood with steel." Jess said, looking greener than I remembered.

"Somehow the dogs tamed them, and then took them with them when they went to space." Estoc said, "and now they're the scourge of the universe."

"So you were attacked by diamond dogs?" I asked.

"Yes," Estoc said, and then looked at Jess, "you look like a military type so you might recognize the name of their ship. The Sand Dweller.”

Jess’ eyes widened. “The devil dogs were here? Why?”

“My suspicion is that they were hired to kill me,” Estoc explained as a matter of fact. “Political assassinations are not all that uncommon from where I come from. Who would benefit the most from my death remains to be seen, however. I don’t know if I could even the count the number of enemies I’ve built up over the years. Either way, I have some investigating to do.”

“So what exactly were you doing, to bring you all the way out here?” I asked.

Estoc sighed. “I could ask you the same question,” he replied, “Although for my answer you would probably think me daft. I know plenty of my own ponies already do. We were searching for a ship that turned up somewhere out here according to my intelligence sources. Someone probably leaked our charts. What brought you out here? This area of space isn’t exactly on the beaten path, as it were.”

Seeing as he had narrowly escaped certain death, I didn’t see any harm in telling him.

“I got a tip from a friend that some convoy had disappeared out here. He had a client who was willing to pay for info on what happened to you.”

Estoc frowned, “That is troubling. Our route was supposed to be a secret, this just confirms that I have a leak within my own circle. At least that helps narrow my search for the responsible party.”

“That's nice, but you still haven’t answered my question,” I said. “Why were you searching for this ship?”

“I have been searching for the stars,” Estoc said quietly.

I crooked an eyebrow, “I’m pretty sure you can find those anywhere. Just point at a dot and jump.”

“No no,” he chuckled, “It’s an acronym. It stands for Stellar Transport and Reconnaissance Ship. Back in the last years of the Empire, three of them were commissioned, each equipped with the technology yet unseen since well before Collapse: The Star of Hope, the Star of Destiny, and the Star of Salvation. If I remember my history right, there was also a Star of Redemption, but it was never finished.”

“So, what, you’re hunting lost tech?” I asked.

“No,” he said firmly. “I’m searching for what I think they found.”

Tick frowned. “What do you mean found? The Stars program never found anything. At least, not that I can remember. It’s been a long time since I took ancient history.”

Estoc’s smile soured. “Officially, perhaps, but the ships never returned, and if my hunch is correct, they were never intended to. I want to find out why.”

I frowned, “What were they searching for?”

“Answers,” Estoc simply said.

“Cute, but that doesn’t answer my question,” I replied.

He sighed, sinking into the couch. “You’ll think me daft.”

“Try me,” I shot back.

“The princesses,” he said, matter-of-fact, “they were trying to find out what happened to the princesses.”

Silence reigned over the makeshift living room.

“You’re right,” I said, “you’re crazy.” I turned to Jess and said, “He’s crazy.”

Nightshade coughed. “So let me get this straight. You came all the way out here, with an armed escort no less, chasing a fairytale? Why not just send an explorer?”

Estoc’s frown deepend, “You think I haven’t? I’ve sent ten. All of them disappeared. I have a strong suspicion that somepony has been working against me. But whom, I cannot fathom. Some were bought off, others destroyed, and more simply walked away.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Nightshade deadpanned.

Estoc glared at him. It was a look that I was pretty sure was reserved for disobedient peasants. He then continued as if he hadn’t heard him. “I admit, I have shared your cynicism on previous attempts. I was about to give up hope until my last scout actually found one.”

“You actually found one?” Tick gasped.

Estoc grimaced. “That was what I was heading to the site to confirm. I am a student of history, I also had a team of historians accompanying me. At least until we were ambushed. Now... everypony is dead." He swallowed and breathed, before turning back to me. "Which is why, my dear captain, I would like to ask for your assistance. A favor.”

“No,” I responded instantly. He said my trigger word. Nope. Nuh-uh. Not gonna do it.

The pegasus looked like I had slapped him. “I’m sorry?”

Nightshade snickered.

“Sorry. I’ve, had some bad experiences when doing ‘favors’ for other ponies." I took the opportunity to glare at Nightshade, while I could. He ignored it. "Let me guess, you want me to take you to those coordinates?” I asked Estoc.

“Yes. Goddesses yes. I want at least to know that my men didn’t die in vain.”

“Fair enough, I suppose. Do you still have the coordinates?”

“Of course. It isn’t much further from here, actually, maybe a few more jumps.”

My eyes narrowed. I pulled up the coordinates I had received from Fritter and sent them to Estoc’s WAND. By the way he suddenly looked up, I guessed my message had transferred. “Are these it?”

His eyes widened. “No… but they were on our route. How did you come by them?”

“These were the first coordinates I was given to come looking for your convoy.”

“Did you say looking for the convoy?” Estoc said, his eyes suddenly narrowing.

“Yes? There was some mention of a ship as well, but I was told to go looking specifically for your convoy. My contact thinks the info might be worth something.”

A look of anger settled down on Estoc’s features. “Bastards,” he growled.

“Pardon?”

As quickly as it came, the prince’s anger vanished, replaced by an almost unnaturally calm demeanor. “Apologies. It would appear my hunch was correct. I'll deal with it when the time comes. For now, please, take me to the ship.”

My WAND beeped. I had the new coordinates, and looked them over briefly. They were close, very close. It wouldn’t be much of a side trip. Setting my jaw, I made a decision.

“Alright, I’ll take you, but we’re only going to look. I’ve already been burned for exploring ancient ships, and I’m not about to repeat the same mistake. If there is something we can do from here, we’ll do it, but I won't make any promises. Okay?”

Estoc nodded, “That will be enough.”

A few hours later, we arrived.

65% Remaining...

Author's Note

I tried something a little different while writing this one. Instead of using long sessions like I normally do, I attacked this one in smaller chunks.

Some big reveals here. I hope most of you caught the hints I've been dropping. I didn't want it to come off as too much of a surprise. Fun fact, back when I was writing either chapter three or four, there was a deleted scene where the convoy actually left. I think I might have included it a little later down the line, but I can't remember right now.
Anyway, enough of my prattling. I hope you enjoy the story.

18 - Ghost

Chapter 18
Ghost

“We have lost much. Our friends, our family, our identity, our knowledge. Today, we weep for the things gone, and embrace what things may come. But, my fellow Equestrians, no matter where you are, tomorrow, let us not mourn that which shall never return, but rather, let us look forward.

“We have, tomorrow, a new opportunity. A blank slate. Though our gilded age may be over, though our castles and culture lie frozen beneath the icy wastes, what we choose this day, our destiny, remains our own. Let us rise to the challenge! Let this not be a day where we look fearfully into the night! Nor Let us be cowed by the unyielding wrath of space! No! Let us feel not doubt! Let us feel no fear! But instead, unite! And declare with one voice into the darkness, ‘WE. SHALL. NOT. PERISH!’”
- 3355 E.C. - The New Solar Republic is established.

It was my turn on the hot seat and I was bored. Out here, the chances of running into trouble went down exponentially the further you got from civilization, and boy were we far from civilization. Apparently Estoc’s definition of a short distance wasn’t exactly in line with mine. His estimate failed to take into consideration the Bandit’s capabilities and while we had only two jumps left until we reached our destination, we had spent the last eight heading deeper into the eastern spiral and far, far away from any known planets. But, just because I was the pilot, didn’t necessarily mean I had to sit on my ass the entire time, and there was a conversation I needed to have that was long overdue.

“So...Clock? huh?” I asked.

Lady Tickintime Aurora Clock sat pitifully on my dirty, smelly, poor excuse of a couch, in my dirty, smelly, extremely poor excuse of a ship, still wearing her dirty, not quite as smelly, excuse of a utility jumper, while she shifted uncomfortably on her seat with her ears splayed back like a kicked puppy. She stayed silent throughout, avoiding my gaze and chewing her bottom lip while continuing the vow of silence she took every time I looked at her.

“You can give me the silent treatment all you want,” I said, “but I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got an hour before the next jump, and you can bet that I’ll be back after I’m done.”

It took some time for me to grapple with the realization of just who Tick was after I had finished my talk with the prince about his errand. Honestly, I was feeling a bit conflicted about the whole thing. She was definitely a noble according to the prince, at least by the standards went in the Core, but I would have to be stupid if I didn’t acknowledge her skill as a mechanic. She shattered everything I normally associated with the upper class: the pomp, the arrogance, the greed, in fact it was pretty fair to say that she was probably one of the most generous and kind ponies I knew of her class, not that I had a long list to compare to. Or maybe she was and I simply hadn’t seen enough of that side of her yet. It was a tough call, really, and one that I wasn’t about to make in haste. For now, I decided to classify her as an oddity. A pearl among swine, so to speak. Okay...yeah, I should stop trying to come up with new metaphors.

Tick remained unmoved. Her body still save for the occasional flick of her eyes across the floor and the odd swish of her tail across the seat cushions.

“So...what? Am I supposed to call you by titles from now on for you to talk to me? My Lady Clock?” It was mean of me, I knew, but at this point all I wanted was a reaction. It was enough.

Tick winced, “Don’t!” she nearly yelled, and then in a quiet tone said, “please, don’t. Not you too.”

I felt dirty, but it was progress. I relaxed a little and took a breath. “Alright, Tick, no titles then. How about I tell you a secret instead?”

Her eyes made their way up to mine. Apprehension in them. “What kind of secret?”

“I had Fritter look into you,” I said evenly. “I don’t know why you’ve been hiding, but between him and his network, he was going to dig something up on you sooner or later.”

The look of betrayal on her face hurt. “You what?”

“Exactly what I said,” I explained. “Believe it or not, Tick, you’re a pretty suspicious character. A pony as skiled as you are wouldn’t just work for free, not in a million years. And the way you burn through bits is enough to make my head spin. You’re way too easy with your bits and time, and that’s not a good habit to have if you’re trying to hide.” Of course I wasn’t exactly qualified to talk about hiding, given that Jess had found me inside of a few weeks. By that measure, Tick was better at it than I was, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before my pride as a stallion would let me admit it.

“S-so… um, w-what are you gonna do? N-now that you know?” Her voice had that kind of tremor that would make most ponies knees buckle. I couldn’t blame her for being afraid. If I was in her position, I’d be afraid too. Ransom would be the least of her problems. Greed is a powerful motivator, and so is revenge. Take any of the ‘lesser’ ponies, put them in a room with one of the movers and shakers of the universe and you’ll see real quick how much civilization is left in the universe. Thankfully, my principles always came first, no matter how often I’ve been screwed by the top.

“Nothing,” I said.

She blinked and swallowed as confusion bled into her features. “Why?” she asked.

“Because you don’t strike me as a noble. Sure you might have a title, and more wealth than I could possibly imagine, but despite all that you actually seem like a decent pony. I’ve taken a lot of shit over the years for the stupidest things. Hell, there’s probably fifty of ponies like you that I would just love to jet out an airlock.” Tick winced. Mentally, I cringed. Maybe I could have phrased that better. “Look, I can’t even begin to relate, but for what it’s worth, once upon a time I was fed up with my job too. I don’t know why you left whatever life of comfort you had, even if I’ve heard good and bad stories about ponies doing the same. Hell, maybe you’re like that one buck who decided he wanted to run a flower shop instead of a law firm. The point is, I don’t know, and quite frankly, I don’t care.

“You are a good mechanic,” I said. “You are a damn good mechanic. I dare say you are probably the most gifted individual I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. You do shit that makes my head spin, and in a manner that I find kinda scary, in the same kind of way that Nightshade is scary with his…uh, him...ness.” I groaned, shaking my head while trying to find the words. It was a short, futile battle. I sighed, “as far as I’m concerned, you’re just a mechanic. My mechanic. Maybe you’re some kinda crazy, rich thrill-seeker, or whatever, but you’re good at what you do, and I’m thankful for that. So don’t think I’m gonna go batshit crazy and shove you out an airlock just because you’re rich, okay?”

Not that I would. Then again, I suppose it depended on the pony. I wouldn’t mind shoving Mega out an airlock. No! Bad Horizon! Focus!

“Everypony on this ship has secrets,” I said. “What’s one more?”

Tick nodded, but stayed quiet.

“By the way, I’m...uh, sorry for what I said earlier. About nobles,” I added.

She snorted, a wisp of a smile working its way back on her muzzle, “It’s…fine.” A giggle. “Actually, it’s kinda accurate,” she laughed.

“Oh?”

“I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to gag whenever mom dragged me off to our social functions,” Tick said. Her face twisted, taking on a sterner, more austere look as she raised her nose several inches, “I do say, Miss Clock, your dress looks absolutely breathtaking! Whomever did you commission it from?” Her voice had taken on a nasally quality that I found particularly grating. And immediately after she had finished, her demeanor shifted, assuming a quieter, almost musical tone.

She daintily raised a hoof to her face, and breathed, an eyebrow raised conspiratorially in what I had to stretch to call a practiced gesture. “Oh, I simply couldn’t tell you that, my dear Mr. Alpenrose,” she said demurely, “after all, a girl simply must keep her secrets,” Tick stuck out her tongue and retched.

“Wow,” I said. “Never do that again.”

“Not as long as I can help it,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “If I never set foot in another ballroom I’d be a happy mare.”

“It’s kinda surprising, actually. For all your background you’ve done a great job dropping your accent. You actually sound like a sane individual,” I said.

Tick laughed. “Well, when you spend most of your time hanging around techs and engineers they tend to rub off on you,” she said with a shrug, and then giggled, “It used to drive mom and dad nuts.”

I shook my head. “I can’t even begin to imagine,” I said with a shrug. “So how did you end up on a mining colony, anyway?”

She blanched, focusing on a decidedly more interesting portion of the floor. “That, really isn’t something I’m comfortable talking about for right now,” she said diplomatically.

“Let me guess, it’s something to do with you and the so-called prince over there?” I nudged my head in the general direction of the cargo hold, where said pony was busy fishing out the rest of his things from the escape pod.

She grimaced, “Well, that was part of it, but there’s a lot more to it than just that. I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

I shrugged, the motion in my shoulders catching my wings up with it. “Not a problem, I think I should probably be getting back up to the hot seat anyway. Current detours or no.”

“Thanks,” she said, and then, slipping off the couch returned working on whatever project sat disassembled on the floor.

Well that was easy, I thought to myself as I ascended the ladderwell on my way back to the pilot’s cabin. It was easy. In fact, it was remarkably easy. Who knew that actually talking to somepony could let you learn so much about their history? It would certainly save me a lot of bits too, skipping the whole buying information thing. Come to think of it, that’s a really bad habit.

I stopped midway up the stairwell. That was a really bad habit.

“Wow,” I muttered under my breath, marveling at my sudden burst of insight, “I am fucking stupid.”

I needed to go have a little talk with Fritter.

***

I was still in the hot seat by the time we reached our final jump, and while Nightshade went to wake Jess, Tick and her Ex crowded around me up in the pilot’s cabin. The experience was less than optimal. Multiple times the two had to be separated, interjecting between the various snipes they threw at each other whenever they argued. It got so bad, once, that they made the mistake of waking Jess. She sorted them out real quick. I don’t know what kind of kung-fu they teach the PBJ, but I sure didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it. The prince’s brand new shiner was evidence enough of that.

“So, dearest, does it still sting?” Tick said wryly.

“Only as much as your barbed commentary, dear.” Estoc replied, passing her a sidelong glance, “which is to say, not at all. Honestly, you’re form seems to have lost its edge. Have you neglected your exercises?”

“Only because I haven’t had to sharpen it on any hard objects,” she replied coolly.

I cleared my throat. “Not. The time,” I warned them. They really could do that for hours. I would have been more impressed if I hadn’t been listening to it for half the trip. Now it was just irritating. “Keep it up and I’ll lock you both in the cargo hold until you either kill each other or fuck.”

The prince guffawed. Tick turned a few shades of crimson.

“Your highness, the coordinates if you will?” I asked Estoc, interrupting his mirth.

“Of course,” he said, lighting his WAND and connecting to the navigation computer. Within a few seconds it beeped with our final destination. With little pomp, I started the charge on the Sparkle Drive and keyed the intercom.

“Final Jump,” I declared, and then hit the button. Nausea washed over me.

***

When we landed on grid, it was a very different scene than I was expecting. I had been expecting maybe a lost wreck in the middle of deep space that some errant scanner had miraculously picked up, or maybe another destroyed battleship. You know, something somewhere easy to spot, and which didn’t involve much mortal peril. Instead we found...

“An asteroid belt,” I said, gawking at the gigantic cloud of rocks the size of mountains. It was a mess, interspersed with probably billions of smaller, harder to avoid rocks that just so happened to also be moving at speeds which would make even a racer sweat. Even as I spoke, I watched in silent horror as two of the larger ones collided in slow motion, their surfaces cracking and smashing together, sending smaller, nastier little bits flying in every direction.

On the plus side, at least the lighting was good. The nearby yellow dwarf provided more than enough light for me to see the space rock that would turn us all to paste moments before impact. “You want us to search an ASTEROID BELT?!”

The prince’s confidence faltered, “Well, the report said-”

“Did your little scout even bother to relay just where in the asteroid belt it was?” I yelled.

“Well not an exact location, but-”

“ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?” I screamed.

His expression hardened. “No,” He said forcefully and with enough volume to cut through my tirade. I’m not sure what it was, but his voice had a sort of presence to it that made me stop and seriously reconsider my tone. Weird psychological effects aside, it was enough to get me to calm down a little, at least.

“You have ten seconds to convince me not to turn around and leave, right now,” I said, this time at a much lower volume.

“I’ll pay you,” Estoc said immediately.

He’s good. I thought.

“Okay, that’s a start,” I replied while checking the scanner to make sure we didn’t have incoming. Thankfully we had landed outside the asteroid field, which meant I only needed to watch out from a few directions, but still… flying rocks.

“Industry standard plus hazard fees,” Estoc added. He was strangely calm about the whole thing. In hindsight, he probably did shit like this on a regular basis, considering his position.

I paused considering it, “Getting warmer,” I said. “Do you at least have an idea of what general area to look in other than somewhere out there?” I said, pointing out the viewport toward the cloud in front of us.

“I was getting to that,” The prince replied, annoyed. At that moment the gem in his WAND lit up, projecting an image of the belt in front of him. “When the scout traced the ship here, he made a mention of an energy signature somewhere in this area, but it only lasted for a short time.” A spheroid blob materialized around a small portion of the belt. From what I could judge of the scale, it was still a massive area to search, but it at least it wouldn’t be the entire damn thing. That did raise another concern, however.

“So your scout never even laid eyes on it?” I asked him skeptically.

Estoc’s eye twitched. “Well, no, but the signal did match known signatures from that era. I am confident in the info.”

“How confident?”

“Enough to triple your payday if I’m wrong,” he simply replied.

Three times standard rate? Okay, that might make it worth the risk.

“Done,” I said. Hey wait a minute...

The door to the pilot’s cabin opened, interrupting my train of thought.

“Alright Horizon I’m h-, what the crap?” Jess nearly shouted, looking out the viewport.

“My thoughts exactly,” I replied. “Apparently genius here wants us to play needle in the haystack.”

“I’ve given you all the information I have, please refrain from further insults,” Estoc said firmly. He was frowning now, almost in a disapproving fatherly fashion. It was a little unnerving.

“He’s got a point, Horizon, you’re kinda laying it on a little thick,” Tick said.

This from the mare who spent most of the trip insulting his intelligence. What? Had I not earned the right to insult him or something? I grumbled.

“You’re not seriously going to take us into that are you?” Jess said, looking a little green.

I looked out again at the miserable mess I was getting myself into, “Sure! Why not? after all it’s only a few million rocks. On that note, could you grab Nightshade and head to the guns? We’re going to need as many eyes as possible for this and I’d rather have ‘em on a swivel.”

Jess nodded distantly, “Yeah, okay. Normal channel?”

I turned on my S-Band feed and nodded, “Yeah, normal channel.”

“Hoo boy,” Jess said, and turned in the doorway, muttering nearly under breath, “fucking lunatics.”

“I’m…gonna go,” Tick said hastily, and followed her out.

I watched them leave, and then I turned my head back toward Estoc. “Okay then, sir, if we’re actually gonna do this, then I’m gonna need you to help find it. Can you work a scanner?”

Estoc nodded, “To a degree. Piloting mechanics were a part of my education, even if I haven’t had much use for them.”

“Good enough,” I said, and then pointed at the scanner. “Watch that monitor, and if it picks up anything that isn’t a fucking rock let me know.”

“You can’t do that while flying?”

“Not if you don’t want to be paste,” I replied, settling onto the controls.

“Touché” he said and then hooked into the scanner with his WAND.

I took a deep breath as I focused on the task at hoof. This was going to suck.

***

Hours. We were there for hours, and this was after we spent an entire fucking day trying to reach the place. The tension on the ship never really went down while we did our initial pass, and when that picked up nothing, I doubled back to make sure we didn’t accidentally miss something. It was long, it was boring, and it was a hell of a lot of ground to cover. After the second pass was complete and we still didn’t have anything, it became apparent that we’d have to go in.

I was dreading this. The mining colony was one thing. At least there, they were sensible enough to keep the facility away from the center of the field, but us, oh no, we needed to plow right into the thick of it to get the scans we needed. And this belt was a hell of a lot more dense than the one in the Core.

“Well, so much for the easy way,” I groused, and then set about plotting a course through the navigation computer. It took a few inputs, and started using the scanner’s feed to start marking the safest route through what was likely going to be the stupidest, most hair-raising flying I’d do in my life. Naturally, the Bandit failed me. The course it sent back was a stupid, winding thing, which, while technically safer than just charging in, would have us die of starvation before we finished it. Stupid ship. Oh well, there were worse things to use than dead reckoning. I glanced over the chart again and picked a random entry point and tried to ignore the first part of that term.

The Bandit closed the distance quickly, easily sliding into a wide space between the rocks as I started to meld with the flow the field. My nerves frayed. It took all the willpower I had not to just pull up and back out, but I had a paycheck to earn. Keeping one eye on a swivel, I started mapping out my course, following the disorganized flow of rock and settling into a central sweeping pattern. I decided on a 50/50 pattern. Doing my best to maximize sensor range, while maintaining as much distance as possible from...everything.

“Jess, Nightshade, how’s it looking from your end?” I called over the radio, never taking my eyes off of the field. The S-band crackled while I waited.

“So far so good,” Jess replied. “Just don’t get us killed, okay tiger?”

“No promises,” I grumbled back.

I took us over a large boulder, steering wide to avoid accidentally clipping the hull. I looked for an opening in the field that would make a good scanning spot, and seeing nothing immediate, kept the ship moving while glancing for anything heading my way. So far, so good.

“Alright, Estoc, I’m gonna try and get us some open space for a good scan,” I said. I banked the ship slightly to dodge an outcropping that looked like it had broken off of one of the bigger asteroids.

“Very well, I’m ready when you are,” he replied confidently, never taking his eyes off the monitor.
I spared him a glance, noting how comfortable he seemed despite everything, and huffed before returning to my own work. focusing on the field, I found a gap and brought us around, driving us deep into the clearing and then lowering our speed. With a quick glance around I noted the distances between rocks and nodded. For an initial scan, this position would be ideal.

“Alright, do it,” I said.

The prince didn’t hesitate. With a crisp glow of his WAND, the scanner burst into life, several streams of information pouring into the system. I took a moment to glance over the data, before returning my attention to the field outside. As another massive rock broke away from the pack, I realized our window was closing. I waited, as long as I could.

“Horizon, we’ve got incoming. Big one, closing fast from below,” Nightshade said.

Immediately, I hit the ventral thrusters, and felt my body sag into the seat as the G-forces took hold. Next to me, Estoc grunted, suddenly struggling to stay on his hooves. With an undignified grunt, his tush hit the ground. I brought the nose down and turned, orienting the the viewport with the oncoming threat while I reversed thrust.

That…yeah that’s a big one.

Rotating ponderously along its axis, an asteroid the size of a freighter spun its way toward us. Judging by our vector, however, we would easily clear it. I fired the main thrusters to be safe, taking us well away from its path.

Jess whistled. “I think I’m starting to appreciate flyswatters.”

“Scan shows nothing, so far.” Estoc said next to me, finally recovering.

I groaned. Well, if it was going to be easy…. I looked around for our next opportunity while re-aligning with my original flight plan, pulling off the thrusters as our speed reached a safe cruise. It wouldn’t be good if we moved too fast. I doubted the Bandit would be able to change course if things went sideways. I glanced over the field, looking for the next scanning point.

I didn’t have to wait long. Some of the rocks ahead shifted enough to provide a good vantage point. I tweaked our heading to match.

“Alright, Estoc, round two,” I said, watching a rock sail harmlessly past the left wing. Within moments we were in the open again. “Do it.”

Estoc nodded and the scanners flared again. Ignored the feed this time. The window probably wouldn’t last as long this time around, and I didn’t want to be caught unawares.

“Nothing,” Estoc said a few moments later.

I grumbled, hoping this wouldn’t reflect the rest of our luck.

***

It did. Ten minutes became twenty, thirty, and on and on. The minutes dragged, more from the tension I felt from maneuvering in the heavily saturated asteroid belt. Most belts weren’t this bad, but I suppose if we were searching for some kind of ancient ship, it would end up in a place like this. We hit seven more scanning spots before we had to double back to cover more of the the section that the prince had indicated. It was grueling work, and if we weren’t worn out by the time we started out little hike, we sure as hell were by the time we were halfway done.

Thankfully, our patience paid off.

***

A light on the control board came on, as we finished another damn scan. I was past done with this shit at that point. What conversation had taken place before we started had drifted off into to little more than updates on nearby objects and the occasional scan result. The time spent inside, had even started to wear on Estoc, whose attention had started to drift after the spending who knew how much time searching the belt.

I looked at the light with skepticism, trying to remember what it indicated. It was far away from the more critical alarms present on the control board. I queried the system with my WAND, and willed it to send me a text feed. After a few moments, the board complied, and a small message entered my feed. When I saw it, my eyes widened.

ALERT: RADAR PING DETECTED.

“Hang on…what?” I muttered.

Estoc’s head popped up, his head swiveling in my direction, he looked at me, and then at the light on the control board with a small measure of confusion. “Is something wrong?”

I brought us to a stop, relative to the surrounding debris, keeping a wary eye on the nearby asteroids while I gently eased us out of our velocity.

“Maybe,” I said, carefully watching one of the larger rocks sail harmlessly by, “run another scan.”

Estoc turned back to his console, punched a few keys and I watched the board light up. A few moments later he said, “Nothing.”

The console light blinked again, my feed lighting up a second time, now that I was already connected.

ALERT: RADAR PING DETECTED.

“Do it again,” I said. Estoc gave me a weird look, but complied anyway. I watched the scan go through. No obvious problems, and no results either. I frowned. As I stared, the light started blinking insistently.

ALERT: RADAR PING DETECTED.

ALERT: ...

“Okay, what the fuck,” I growled as my feed started filling up with the stupid message. Opening a line on the S-Band I called out, “Tick? Can you check the sensors and tell me if something broke? I think the board might be going screwy.”

There was a moment before I got a response. “Uh, sure? what’s it saying?” Tick replied.

“Apparently something is hitting us with radar, but the scanners aren’t picking up anything,” I said.

Estoc immediately brightened. “Really?” his voice carried a near giddiness to it, “Is that what the light is?”

Silently I nodded.

“Uh, okay sure. Give me a second to go check,” Tick responded. The line closed.

“Did you say something hit us with radar?” Jess said, suddenly sounding very alert.

I racked my brain for why it would be so alarming. Then it hit me.

weapons lock.

The control board flashed again, a new slew of messages flooding my WAND with alerts.

“Looks like the sensors are fine, Horizon,” Tick reported.

I blinked. Well if something was hitting us…

“Alright, Jess, Nightshade, keep an eye out for any oddly shaped objects. The scanners aren’t picking up anything, but whatever is hitting us might be trying to get our attention.”

The control board flashed again.

“It sure is insistent.”

I banked the craft, using the lateral thrusters to adjust our position while squinting out the viewport to try and spot anything out of the ordinary. From where we were, however, the lighting wasn’t very good. We were near the bottom of the belt’s primary vein. The larger asteroids had done a fantastic job of blotting out the nearby star, which made visibility in these conditions a nightmare.

Abruptly, the alerts stopped. The control board light had stopped flashing. I blinked.

“What’s wrong?” Estoc asked, “Why did it stop?” He leaned every slightly toward the light.

I shook my head and held up a hoof to stop him as I worked through what was going on.

Why spend all that effort to get our attention only to stop once we start doing something?

Testing a theory, I moved us back into our previous position. The board started flashing again.

ALERT: RADAR PING DETECTED.

I smiled. Whatever was hitting us probably was using line-of-sight.

I pitched in place, adjusting my view and kept squinting.

“Looks like we’re only getting hit from this position. Anypony see anything?”

Silence followed. My eyes kept scanning in the dark. I kept us going on a slow pitch, adjusting my field of view in case what I was looking for was hiding just outside of view. Seeing nothing, I started making small adjustments, watching the blinking light as an indicator if I was getting closer or not.

Then something weird happened. The pings suddenly stopped. For a moment I thought I had lost the signal again, but the next second, I received a rapid burst of pings, followed by a silence and a set of single pings. The action scratched something deep in the back of my mind as oddly familiar. I looked at my feed again and sorted it by timestamp:

09:31:48-4131:08:28

ALERT: RADAR PING DETECTED.

09:31:49-4131:08:28

ALERT: RADAR PING DETECTED.

09:31:50-4131:08:28

ALERT: RADAR PING DETECTED.

09:31:51-4131:08:28

ALERT: RADAR PING DETECTED.

09:31:52-4131:08:28

ALERT: RADAR PING DETECTED.

09:32:48-4131:08:28

ALERT: RADAR PING DETECTED.

I stopped. Stared at the feed for a moment, and then gawked.

“What is it? Did you find something?” Estoc asked, glancing back at the control board light which had once again started flashing. The readout in the feed was the same. I checked it again, and then rechecked it. Leaning back in my chair, I breathed out.

It was Morse code. Someone was signaling for help.

“There’s someone out here,” I said. I flipped on the forward lights, not sure if whoever was signaling us could see us, and did a banking salute. For good measure, I set the sensor suite to emit a radar pulse of our own and sent out three short blasts.

The response was immediate. The control board flashed, suddenly coming alive with a burst of pings that was too fast for my WAND to sort through. It took me a while to pick them apart, and then convert them from the archaic signalling language. At first I didn’t recognize them. the transmission was a combination of letters and numbers. I opened a notation program in my WAND and started putting the pieces together. Snippets from pilots school started coming back to me.

The pony was sending me vectors. I plugged the numbers into the flight computer, which immediately gave me a heading to bear in on. Aligning the ship, I sent out another three bursts, and waited, searching the field with my eyes for our destination.

Distantly, I could see it. Our heading was going to take us straight into the heart of a massive asteroid at a distance I was having trouble estimating. As my feed lit up with a new series of pings, I kept a wary eye on my surroundings while I translated them.

AOK PROCEED SLOWLY.

Nodding to myself, I eased onto the throttle, edging over a smaller asteroid and into the open space behind it and our target. I kept it slow and steady, watching the simple intermittent pings that marked our progress while keeping my head on a swivel for stray rocks. I started counting off the kilometers to our target in my head, feeling more and more intimidated as the target we were heading toward grew, and grew, and grew. By the time we had closed to within ten kilos, the asteroid was beyond massive.

The asteroid looked like someone had ripped a mountain out of the ground. The scale put the colony in the Core to shame, and the rock itself was littered with what looked like little cracks at a distance. As we closed, those cracks became massive crevices in the rock face, some glittering with the remnants of shattered minerals, but most opening to the void, dark and forbidding.

Sitting next to me in the pilot cabin, Estoc suddenly straightened.

“Energy signature! Dead ahead!” Estoc nearly shouted, giddily bouncing on his hooves. “It’s weak, but it’s there.”

I squinted into the shadow of the asteroid ahead of us. And spotted it.

Poking out of one of the crevices, nearly invisible in the shadow of a nearby asteroid, was a faint planar shape, too flat and straight to be natural. Kicking on the floodlights, I zeroed in on the shape, continually trimming off the Bandit’s speed as we got closer and closer to the shape, and started moving the light along the inside of the crack. The light barely reached, and what little I could see was enough to only make out bare shapes. There was the remote possibility that it was a vein of minerals, but that theory shattered when I caught the broken outline of an antenna, jutting out..

I had to bring us inside the crack to get a good angle. The navigation was a little tricky, avoiding small rocky outcroppings while I brought us to a stop and used the manuevering thrusters to get us inside. While the crevice wasn’t exactly small, while still outside the rock, we were especially exposed. Once we were a little safer, I brought the light to bear.

“Bingo,” I said. Estoc suddenly inhaled.

It was an ugly sight. Whatever the ship had been before, there wasn’t much left of it now. Badly battered plates had been wedged inside the crack, shattered away from the hull of the much larger vessel lying hidden deep inside the asteroid’s lightless ravine. The ship itself dwarfed the Bandit by a factor of at least ten, massive compared to the relatively small girth of my dinky little scrap barge. Any larger, and I could have fit the Bandit through its cargohold. Hell, it probably had its own hangar. Sadly, there was no real hope of salvaging it. The ship had been destroyed beyond all salvation. Signs of combat littered its hull. Missile impacts had blown clear entire sections of the ship, including a great portion of the gangway, in some cases threatening to the split the entire thing across its length. Other sections bore evidence of severe carbon scoring, some of them struck so violently that entire decks had melted together into one massive, bulbous blob of metal.

That wasn’t even counting the damage from the asteroid field. Stray asteroids had wedged themselves into the ship’s hull, effortlessly smashing through the ship’s thick layers of armor plating and penetrating into its internal structure, leaving massive dented craters in their wake. Other sections bore signs of smaller impacts, left over from centuries of abuse.

On the aft section of the ship, just behind one of its massive, shattered wings, sat the same logo I had seen on the battleship, lit just enough by the Bandit’s floodlights to be legible. On it, a purple star sat proudly on the ship’s armor, orbited by a shining sun and a black moon, and scratched by years of impacts along its still gleaming surface. Between them, five smaller white stars stood at ends of the star’s points. Beneath it, words had been emblazoned on the side in clear, if dented lettering.

quod peractum, servo

stella salutis sum

“My Celestia,” Estoc breathed, “it’s real.”

“Yeah,” I said, staring numbly at the ship before us.

My eyes wandered across its surface. Near the tail of the craft, I spotted the source of the radar pings. A small, beaten turret rotated in place, weakly tracking my ship, the barrel of its cannon busted shut by multiple, powerful impacts. Alongside it was a broken antenna, jutting at odd directions into space and missing half its length.

I heard Jess whistle over the radio, “Now that’s something you don’t see every day.”

Nightshade murmured his agreement.

“I wanna see!” Tick called. The next thing I knew, the door to the pilot’s cabin opened and Tick rushed in, nearly bowling over Estoc in the process.

Tick looked up and froze, her eyes widening at the sight. Silence followed.

“Well, we found it,” I said. “Happy now? Your highness?”

“Yes,” Estoc said distantly, never taking his eyes off of the ship out the viewport. “You’ve done a magnificent job. I…” he sat down, and took a breath. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“It’s amazing that thing still has power,” Tick breathed, gawking at the dead ship and the small turret stil tracking us.

Estoc nodded. “A lot of things were lost in those days,” he said. “One of them was the secrets of crystal magic. After the fall of Equestria, the colonies were never the same.”

“So much technology…” Tick moaned.

“Gone forever,” Estoc sadly finished. “Horizon, I don’t know if you can appreciate what kind of dedication went into the creation of that ship, but know that it was made during the days when the magic of harmony was strong. Harmony that we need, especially in this day of our age.”

“Harmony is a force?” I asked skeptically. Despite his assertions, all I could see was a ship. It was a big ship, certainly, and definitely impressive, save for the fact that it was beaten to hell and back.

“Certainly,” Estoc replied, “Although most importantly, it is a force for good. I don’t suppose I could convince you to get us onboard, could I?”

I firmly shook my head, “No. No offence but I’ve had my fill of exploring derelicts, and besides that, look around. This whole place is a deathtrap. We’re risking enough just being here. I know you want to go explore, what, your life’s work? but I’m not willing to bet our survival on it. Asteroid belts like this one are too dangerous. Hell, just look at that thing!”I pointed to the ship outside for emphasis. “and that’s in the shade.”

Estoc sighed, sadly nodding his head, “Yes, I suppose you’re right. But what was that signal then? Aren’t we going to at least investigate that?” His voice had a hopeful quality to it. It was probably a bid to keep me working here. Although, he did have a bit of a point. Just what exactly was waiting for us on a derelict spaceship like this one? Maybe one of his previous scouts got stranded here?

I looked at the turret that was tracking us with a degree of curiosity. Obviously I couldn’t risk boarding the ship in this environment, nor did I want to, but maybe I could get information off of it another way?

The light on the control board was still flashing. Whoever was doing this was still sending me messages, only this time, from the looks of it, it wasn’t a distress signal.

“So, um, what now?” Tick asked.

Estoc was about to answer, but I raised my hoof to stop it. “Just a second,” I said, “I’m still decoding this.”

I stared at the entries, interpreting it the best that I could. As far as I could tell, whoever was sending the signals, had just asked several questions.

ARE YOU THERE

HELLO

PLEASE DON’T IGNORE ME

HELLO

ARE YOU STILL LISTENING

I got back on the sensor suite, and started making more radar pulses to respond.

YES.

I stopped and waited.

“What’s going on?” Tick asked, genuinely confused.

“Yeah, what’s going on down there? we’ve been sitting here for the last five minutes doing pretty much nothing,” Jess added.

I keyed my radio. “If you want to come down, go ahead, so long as we’re here in the crevice I don’t think we’ll need a lookout.”

“Oh, thank the sun, I was starting to get a cramp up here,” Jess replied.

Anything that followed was immediately wiped from my attention as the control board started blinking again. Frowning, I started decoding the latest message.

NEED CONNECTION

CBAND

It was then, that my WAND beeped.

Instead of a radar ping, I had received a data request through the ship’s comm suite. Oddly specific, considering it was targeted directly to my WAND, instead of the shipboard communication suite. The bypass made me raise an eyebrow. How?

Conversation request from TSX03181125-141840.

I opened the request using the messenger program.

<Hello? is this working? Oh, please, oh please, oh please be working!

>Yes.

“You seem focused. Care to share with the rest of the class?” Jess said from behind me. I would have jumped if I wasn’t being held down by the harness. I turned my head to look.

Jess and Nightshade had crawled down from the turrets, and entered the room while I wasn’t looking. Once again the pilot’s cabin was packed to the brim. Estoc had scooted to the side to make room, while Tick had taken a position opposite him. All of them were staring at me expectantly.

“Uh, yeah sure,” I said, turning on my WAND’s projector. A holographic window split the air in front of me as I turned my head back toward the viewport so the others could see, just in time for the next reply.

<THANK CELESTIA! After the last ship warped off I thought I was gonna be stuck here forever! Do you have idea what that’s like? It’s a long time! Like, a really, really long time! I mean at first I thought it wasn’t gonna be so bad, but…wow. I had no idea. It’s been a really long time since I’ve been able to talk to anypony. Please don’t leave me here?

Nightshade snorted. “Really?”

Estoc stared in confusion, “This is…unexpected. Was she part of the one of the missing recon ships?”

>Were you from one of the previous recon ships?

<Recon ships? You mean there were other ponies out here looking for me?

The grin fell off my face. “What the fuck?” I said. Estoc gaped. The others held similar expressions, even Nightshade. So it was possible to surprise him. Who knew?

>What do you mean by that? How long have you been there?

<Too long. Many cycles. Lost count. Everyone’s gone. My data isn’t so good any more and it’s been a really long time since my last update. My best guess is that I’ve been here for...um, well at least 290,000 cycles.

I blinked.

>How long is a cycle?

<Oh! Right, you ponies measure differently, um… well one cycle is about… 24 equestrian hours?

“Is this pony serious?” Tick said, “No, she can’t be! This is just…that’s just stupid! Tell her that’s a stupid joke!”

>You’re kidding, right?

<NO! DON’T LEAVE ME! PLEASE! I’M NOT JOKING! PLEASE DON’T GO! PLEASE OH PLEASE OH PLEASE OH PL-

I stared. We all stared.

“I don’t think this pony is kidding. Filly, stallion, whatever it is,” Nightshade said,

>Who are you?

<I’m…I...don’t remember.

>Okay, how about this. What are you? If you’re as old as you claim, you’re obviously not equine.

<My designation is TSX03181125-141840. My memory is mostly corrupted. Data backup is not currently available without direct connection to the central node.

“It’s a program?” Tick said in shock.

Estoc’s eyes widened, “a construct?”

>You’re a program?

<Well EXCUSE ME! I’m not JUST a program! I’m a… a… I… um… oh dear.

>So, what, you’re an AI?

<Well I’m certainly intelligent.

I couldn’t help but read a certain smugness in that statement.

<I guess you could call me that, yeah.

<Um, so I know this is super sudden and all, but, can I come with you? I really, really don’t want to be stuck here again…forever. Again.

My WAND chirped an alarm.

WARNING: Illegal upload attempted via M-NET Mass Data Link. Authorize? Y/N.

I spared a glance at the others.

“Well what are you waiting for?” Estoc said eagerly.

I put in my authorization. Immediately my WAND popped up with another alert.

WARNING: Upload exceeds capacity.

My WAND might not have had the greatest amount of storage, but it was still more than I’d ever need in my lifetime. Or at least it had been. Just how big was this thing?

<Whoops! Uh, let me, um, fix that really quick. I just need to pack a few things.

A few seconds passed before my WAND received another upload request.

<Try it now! Do it! do it!

Commencing download...

A screech rent the air and right into my eardrums. Screaming, I tore out the earbuds on my WAND and let them dangle free, the awful static attaining near banshee levels of volume. It noise left my ears ringing, and all the while the screeching continued for another minute or so.

“So were you expecting this on your little expedition as well?” I asked the prince.

Estoc shook his head. “I knew of the ship, but this is something new. I don’t think I’ve even heard of an AI in reference to the Stars ships. I know they were full of the best technology from the age, maybe they needed an AI to run it?”

It was a tempting prospect, that was sure, and it would explain why it had such fine control over the ship’s systems. That thought led to some more questionable territory, however. This AI had full control over the ship’s turrets. The notion made me shiver. Most AI’s weren’t super bright. Any small fault in the programming and…. I clamped down on that train of thought. There was really no backing out now.

Download complete.

The gem on my forehead flared to life, its amber glow nearly tripling as… something, emerged from it.

Everyone jumped back as that something danced across the air, shouting through the ship’s intercom with a distinctly electronic timbre.

“YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! I’M FREEEHEEHEE!”

Its appearance was female, not that appearance probably meant anything to it. It’s avatar was female, there you go. It was also… filly sized. A small, unicorn filly ‘sat’ in the air in front of us, sighing exultantly as her figure slumped in the. She appeared almost amber in color, but I was willing to wager that was more of an effect of my WAND’s coloration than it was a reflection of what she actually looked like.

“OH MY CELESTIA! Does it feel good to be out of there!” the construct said.

She looked at us. A gesture I found quite terrifying considering that there was no possible way that she could have done so. There were no cameras that I knew on the Bandit, and if our WANDS had them, they were all facing forward.

Estoc’s mouth worked vacantly. “How?” he managed.

“Well, now I’ve seen it all,” Nightshade said. Tick merely gaped in mute silence, at the thing, her expression seeming to bounce between appalled and fascinated.

“Huh,” Jess said.

Brightening, the filly stood up, and ‘walked’ toward us with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry! I forgot my manners. Please allow me to introduce myself,” she said, taking a polite bow. “I am TSX zero-three-zero-eight-one-one-two-seven-dash-”

“How about I just call you Tex?” I said, interrupting her before the number vomit could continue.

The program blinked a moment, suddenly becoming unnaturally stiff. “Designation accepted,” it said in a low monotone, before flipping back to its normal perky self, “Hi! I’m Tex! Nice to meet you!”

“Uh, nice to meet you too?” I said. I admit, this was really weird territory for me.

“What exactly do you do?” Tick asked the AI.

The construct shrugged, “Oh, you know, everything. Ballistics calculations, Navigation, programming-”

“You can PROGRAM?” Tick shouted, alarmed.

Tex looked offended. “Well, yeah, it’s kinda an important skill when you’ve got so many things you gotta do.”

“That...you—no, that’s-” Tick sputtered, pointing a hoof at the avatar. “YOU’RE NOT POSSIBLE!”

The AI looked amused. Hell, if she had wings she probably would have preened. “And yet here I am. I know you’re astounded at my feat of equine engineering, but honestly, a lot of thought went into my creation,” the avatar’s confidence suddenly fell, “At least I think so...I’m a little fuzzy on that bit.”

Tick’s eye twitched. “Nope!” She yelled wildly shaking her head, “Nope! I am done! I am going downstairs and I’m going to work until I forget this ever happened.” With a growl she turned and headed for the access corridor. The door shut behind her.

“Well she’s a grump,” The AI huffed. Glancing at the rest of us, she added, “So, uh… can we go?”

I glanced at my friends and prince, all of whom didn’t seem to have much to say at this point.

“Yeah… let’s do that,” I said.

***

I had a passenger. Not in the sense that, my ship had a passenger, oh no. I, personally, had my very own passenger. On my person. In my ears. In my face. Pretending to walk around my cockpit with her shining ethereal self, practically bouncing off the very thereal walls, oh, and she wouldn’t shut up.

“Wow! This place is really a sty! Who designed this ship? It looks like somepony took a bunch of different ships and mashed them all together, and these systems! Ugh! They’re all weird and icky and slow and, ew! Who put that pointer there? That’s nasty! Bad programmer!”

For the love of the moon, shut up! PLEASE SHUT UP!

“Hey! That’s not very nice!”

I paled. Did I mention that she was a mind reader?

“Well, your WAND does need to read your biometrics and brainwaves, so obviously I can use it to listen to other things.”

It also works in reverse! Said a sudden and cheerful voice inside in my head.

Note to self, attempting to bodily jettison yourself out of your seat while still strapped into said seat, hurts. It hurts alot.

“Don’t do that!” I yelled at the avatar. It was a pointless gesture, but having something to shout at felt really nice.

“Yeesh! No need to yell, I’m right here after all.” Tex replied.

Yes. Right there. In my head. Well, in my WAND. On my head. There. Perfect.

“I heard that,” Tex said.

This was going to be a long trip.

***

I put the ship through it’s paces on the way back. Having accomplished our objective, and after securing a nice promise to pay from the prince, I flew the Bandit until we finally hit the M-Net line back in more civilized space. Jess came to take over for me, and to my great relief, my passenger decided to entertain herself with the new pony instead of bugging me. I would have used the time to catch up on my sleep, were it not for the slew of new messages I received from various sources.

The messages were nothing too special, most of them, anyway. Aside from all the junk mail I had started mysteriously receiving--seriously how do they find me?-- one message was from Prism, asking me to schedule a video conference call with her and Jess sometime soon, a few more were from Fritter asking for updates on the trip, and the last one was from a pony I didn’t think I’d hear from again, Last Chance. that one was titled: “CALL ME! ASAP!”:

I started reading.

Horizon, it’s Chance.

Call me. There’s been another murder.

62% Remaining...

Author's Note

Hoo boy, this chapter is a mess. I think most of it boils down to me being too busy to put in enough time on something to keep it coherent than anything else. Just about the only time I've been able to set aside for this one has been either late at night when my mind isn't as focused as it could be, or early morning, when I'm scrambling to get ready for work. Something tells me I'm gonna regret posting this one.

If you think a lot of this feels rushed and out-of-place, then you're right. It was. Originally I had planned this chapter to come along further down the line, but since we're nearly into chapter 20 with this monstrosity I figured that it was probably high time to stop introducing characters. The pacing of it grates on me. Wrapping up initial exposition in the eighteenth chapter is a no-no in most writing books. It's wonky in ways I can't even begin to describe.

That said, I'm sorry if you noticed a drop in quality for this one. I'll do better next time. I'm gonna move forward rather than fix this right now. That way I can at least maintain some semblance of progress.

On a different note, I remember some discussion cropping up about Tick's status as a noble, and I can say definitively that while she is a noble by the standards in the Unicorn Core Worlds (rich and in a potential position of power), she is not a princess. If anything she's just the rich daughter of an industry giant. She and Estoc had an arranged marriage that fell through the cracks when she decided not to show up for it. Even then she would have been at most a duchess in House Morningstar.

I've also been thinking of doing a write up of the structure of what the structure of the NSR actually is, detailing the various houses, and where they came from so that people have a better understanding of how Estoc fits into it. I've debated working it into the story somehow, but I'm not sure if I can do it through anything other than expository bullshit. I thought I would mention it here instead. If you want it, comment and I'll work it into one of my weekly blogs.

19 - Details

Chapter 19

Details

“It just doesn’t add up.”
“What doesn’t?”
“Eighteen ponies have gone AWOL over the last few days. Only three have been found, and the rest just up and disappeared off the books. I’ve seen shifty shit before, sergeant, but this just takes the fuckin cake. And to top it all off, I’ve got families on the lines asking why their spouses haven’t returned from their latest deployment! What the fuck am I supposed to tell them? ‘Oh, I’m sorry, but apparently your husband doesn’t exist anymore?’”
- 3356 E.C. - [REDACTED]

We were well on our way to pick up Fritter’s family in the Core, by the time I finally sat down in front of the comm suite and set it up for my call to Chance. The wiring was a little tricky, and more than once I had to pull Tick over to help me get it set up, but once we had a solid connection to the M-Net, the thing worked beautifully. I used the contact information that Chance had left attached to his mail, and used my WAND to handle most of the grunt work.

Ooh! Are you trying to call somepony? Tex said in my head, her amber image appearing on a nearby monitor and staring at me with a beaming smile.

Yes, and it’s a private call, so if you don’t mind. I said back. Being forced to sit with the thing for hours on end had enabled me to come up with a way to work with the little program so I didn’t end up looking like some crazy pony talking to himself. Granted, the whole talking in my head thing was a little weird to get used to, but I found that, so long as I subvocalized the words I was saying, I could clearly communicate with her, without opening my stupid mouth and drawing attention. It would split my attention any time I wanted to talk with her, of course, but it at least it was better than having a one-sided conversation with myself in public. I had also found that as long as I kept my emotions in check, she couldn’t quite tell exactly what I was thinking. A comforting notion, considering her lack of any understanding of privacy. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about my innermost secrets leaking out. The whole method was similar to how I used my WAND, minus the required intent behind it. I figured that with some practice, it would eventually become natural.

Aw, but I can help! The AI protested. Through the monitor she gave me the best impression of puppy dog eyes I had ever seen. Combined with her stature as a filly it was extremely hard to resist.

My lips drew into a thin line as I considered it. How can you help, exactly? It’s just a call, nothing more, I thought back.

Well, I can stabilize your connection so that you can minimize errors in the data flow… you’re… not following okay, uh, less static noise, jitters, and a clearer conversation? I could go on. Tex explained.

True, but what if I’m willing to put up with it? I answered her.

Uh, well, I could research any relevant information based on your conversation if that would help. You wouldn’t believe how well I can data mine.

Note to self, sell Tex to Fritter.

No, I’m not gonna let you sell me. How could you even think that?

Note to self, practice more.

Alright fine, but don’t share anything we talk about, I thought. Some things are meant to be confidential, and could hurt ponies if the details leaked out. Are you familiar with how investigations work?

Well of course! Or… at least I think so, it’s been awhile since I’ve needed those subroutines. Tex replied.

Close enough. Just remember that if any of the details get out, it could damage an investigation. Okay? I said.

Okay… fine. Tex replied.

Great. Connect me.

The console beeped, and Tex’s face disappeared from the monitor, replaced a moment later with an image of a loading bar and a message that the system was connecting to the requested host. It rang a few times, the audio being piped into my earbuds, until after the fourth ring, an automated voice picked up instead.

“Thank you for calling the legal offices of Chance and Law. We are currently unavailable to take your call, please leave your name and contact number after the tone and we will help you as soon as possible.”

If I had my math right, it would be just after closing time on L6-C. I was banking on whether he might still be there.

“Chance, it’s Horizon, answering your call. If you’re still in the offic-”

I heard a scrambling on the other side as the other side suddenly picked up. The display switched to a picture of Chance’s politely smiling face as the connection completed. The poor buck looked a little weather worn, with a short delay between the audio and the visual. As soon as I noticed it, the signals suddenly aligned, making the whole thing almost appear to be in real time, were it not for the few second delays between responses. Probably Tex.

“Horizon! Good to hear from you! You just caught me as I was on my way out. I take it you got my message?”

I smiled, “Yeah, though I admit it was a little ominous. Do you need me to call back later? Or…”

“No! No, it’s fine. My martinis can wait a little longer. This can’t,” Chance explained.

“Alright, so, what’s going on? You said something about another murder?” I asked.

MURDER? What do you mean murder? Should I be worried? Tex interjected suddenly.

Quiet! Tex, I can’t hear him! I said, annoyed. Whatever Chance had said was lost, and by the expression on his face, he was probably wondering what was wrong with me.

“I’m sorry, Chance, could you repeat that? I’m having a problem on my end.”

“Problem? What problem? I can see you just fine from this end. Better than fine, actually. Just what are you doing to the connection?”

“No it’s... “ I sighed. I might as well get this out of the way if Tex was going to keep interjecting, just so that she would be part of the conversation, instead of the problem, “maybe it’s better if I just show you.” I took a breath and said, “Tex, go ahead and say hi.”

I watched Chance’s confused expression with some amusement as he suddenly got the surprise of his life.

“HI! I’M TEX!” The AI shouted from his end.

Last Chance jumped, rearing out of his chair and crashing onto the ground with a shout. His eyes were still wide as he came back into view, the camera on his end rotating toward the floor where he was sitting. He stared blank faced at the screen, his eyes switching rapidly from the screen and the camera following his movements.

“What in Equestria…” he started, “Horizon, what is this some kind of joke?”

“No, it…” I stopped, thinking. “She,” I corrected, “is a little thing I picked up on my last run. Harmless, I swear. Well, I hope. I can’t really get rid of her.”

“Hey!” Tex said.

Chance looked at me with a level frown, “You do realize this is supposed to be a confidential conversation. Right?”

“She won’t cause any trouble. Right Tex?” I warned.

“Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!” She responded cheerfully.

I was struck immediately by two things. The first was a sense of amusement at how ludicrous a statement that was, and the second was this odd sense that I was suddenly being watched very carefully. I shivered. So did Chance.

“O-kay… then,” Chance said warily. “Where were we?”

“Murder!” Tex offered cheerfully.

“Quiet, Tex.” I said.

“Oh, fine.” She replied, and then disappeared entirely.

Chance eyed me skeptically through the monitor. “You certainly lead an interesting life,” he said.

“You have no idea,” I replied.

“Right.” Chance cleared his throat. “You remember what I said about the Just Cause Act, right?”

I had to jog my memory a couple times, before the details came to me. “Vaguely, why? Did you finally get your break?”

Chance frowned, “Not exactly. But this recent case certainly gave me some more ammunition to use against it. I can’t give you specifics, but the new murder case has been sharing details very similar to yours.”

I raised an eyebrow, “How so?”

“Changelings,” Chance said. “Ever since your case, the investigation bureau has been checking all the cases for traces of changeling activity, and since I’m the only pony in recent history to successfully use the changeling defense, I’ve been getting calls practically all day from other lawyers to compare notes. Even miss Primrose has been talking to me, much to my chagrin.”

I remembered Prosecutor Primrose. She was a pony that was a little harder to forget. “I thought you two hated each other,” I said.

Chance shrugged, “Call us professional rivals. I tolerate her, at least.” He shook his head, “Ever since our last case, she wanted to avoid being blindsided like that again. She’s the one who convinced the DA to order changeling detection on all new cases. Regardless, that brings me my point.”

He looked at me seriously, “This latest murder was committed by a changeling. We’re very sure. The scans turned up their magical signature quite clearly. But we’re still puzzling out as to why.”

“Well, that’s fascinating, but why tell me?” I asked.

Chance smiled patiently, “Because partly I believe you should be aware of what is going on. The first thing the DA did was try and pin it on you, due to your prior history, but that was debunked within minutes when we learned that you were long gone by the time it happened. You can imagine how that conversation went.”

I rolled my eyes, typical bastards, “Okay, so what else?”

“The situation was virtually the same. The pony accused of murder was swearing that he was innocent, and when the investigation turned up the changeling signature, the ponies in State Legal suddenly got very interested,” he said. “Out of suspicion, the DA ordered all cases with similar scenarios busted open, and their entire legal team has been working around the clock to see if there were any other cases in progress that could have reasonable doubt.”

“And they involved you,” I said.

“Yes. This last week, I’ve been buried in paperwork trying to play the devil’s advocate for a bunch of deceased ponies,” Chance said with a grim frown.

“But that’s good for your case, though, right?”

Chance nodded reluctantly, “Yes, it would be, were it not for what we’ve been finding.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Yours wasn’t the first case in recent history to involve changelings.” Chance said, “in fact, now that we’re looking for it, the evidence for similar cases has been going back nearly decades.”

“How many cases?” I asked.

“Within our first week of searching? Six.” Chance said.

Six. Six murders like mine, at different times in history, and this is only the first week?

“I can tell by your expression that you’re beginning to understand the situation,” Chance said.

He took a breath, “And that’s only the beginning. Since we opened this investigation, I’ve been getting calls from defense lawyers both inside and outside the PC, wanting to compare notes. Apparently, they’ve been having the same problems.”

“Outside? Like in the other sovereignties?” I asked.

“Yes.” Chance said seriously, “And while many of these call don’t have many problems too similar to yours, they do share one thing in common.”

“That being?”

“Faders. In every case, either the victim or the perpetrator had Fade,” he said.

He let the statement hang.

“I’m not normally one to yell ‘conspiracy’, Horizon, but at the rate I’m getting these calls, I’m starting to think something is very, very wrong.”

“Wow, that’s heavy,” Tex said, causing Chance to jump a little.

Chance recovered a moment later, “I don’t think I’ll be able to get used to that,” he said, laughing softly. “Either way, I’m calling to tell you to keep an eye open. I’ve forwarded some of the more public details to your broker friend so that he could look into it as well. I’m hoping he can help.”

I nodded, “I get ya. Thanks for the heads up, Chance.”

He smiled, “My pleasure, take care out there Horizon. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a drink.” With a final nod, the call ended, and I was left staring at the blank screen.

I like him! Tex said cheerfully.

Dammit Tex, I thought back at her.

What?

***

“Excuse me, Captain Seldat?”

I had just woken up from a particularly vivid dream about flying paperwork, when Estoc entered the living space with a particularly diplomatic mask on his face. Even with my bleary eyed glance, I could tell that he wanted something from me.

I groaned as I sat up on my couch, wiping some of the sleep from my eyes with a hoof before regarding the yellow pegasus with one of my trademark, ‘this better be good’ looks.

“Yes?”

“I was wondering if I could speak to that AI for a bit. I’d like to get some more details on the events leading to the Salvation’s destruction,” Estoc said.

Yep. He wanted something alright. Instantly, my WAND flared to life of its own accord, projecting the little filly slightly above my head over the couch.

“Sure! What do you want to know? If I can answer I would be happy to help you,” Tex said. “I have to warn you, however, that a lot of the data from back then has really degraded since the… incident.”

It was becoming very obvious that I was about to have no real say in this conversation. Instead I just sat and listened. As Estoc focused his entire attention on the filly and ignored me entirely. Rude much?

“Well, if you don’t mind, you could start with yourself. What exactly are you? I’ve worked with some of the brightest minds in the NSR, and I don’t think they’ve ever even approached the level of sophistication your programming shows,” Estoc said.

The filly blushed, “Oh, well, um, you know, I’m just this and that. Really, I’m not all that special.”

“Yet even by your reaction to my simple you’re surprisingly pony-like. You even show sincere modesty. That isn’t exactly a feature that most programmers think to include when designing an intelligence,” Estoc said. “A lot of care obviously went into your creation. What exactly were you made for? Were you made specifically for the Salvation?” he asked.

“Uh, no. I think. Yeah, no. I was not made specifically for the Salvation, I think. I remember helping run some of its more critical systems, but I was on the crew serving more as a fail-safe than a critical part of the system. As to what I was made for, I…”

Tex’s face went blank as she spoke in a low monotone, “Data not found.” She cringed, rubbing the back of her neck with one hoof while apologetically bowing her head to Estoc. “Sorry.”

Estoc frowned, “Damn, well I suppose it wouldn’t be so easy.” He seemed to think for a moment. “Wait, you said you served on the Salvation. Did the other ponies treat you like another one of the crew?” he asked.

Tex nodded, smiling, “Yep! A lot of them were really nice too. I remember some of the engineers sharing stories with me about their families back on Equestria Prime, and what they were planning to do once they got… home.” Her smile fell. “They’re all gone now.” She sniffed. “I saw them… all of them.”

Whatever interest Estoc had been showing wavered as he stared at the AI. “I… I’m sorry if I brought up bad… memories?”

The filly shook her head. “No, it’s fine. Friends come and friends go. I’ve learned that lesson more than once, believe me. I do wonder what happened to their families on Equestria Prime, however. I wish I could tell them how much they were loved.” Tex looked at Estoc, her face quizzical. “What’s wrong?”

“You… don’t know, do you,” Estoc said, uncomfortably shifting in place as he took a seat.

“Know what? Did something happen?” Tex replied.

Oh, something happened alright. It’s been in every history book ever written.

“Equestria Prime is… “ Estoc began.

“Dead,” I answered bluntly. I was getting tired of being a third wheel on this discussion. “Equestria Prime is dead."

“WHAT?” Tex nearly screamed in shock. “You’ve-you’ve gotta be kidding! You’re kidding right?” My head tickled for a moment. Tex ‘sat down’ in midair as she seemed to process it. “You’re not kidding,” she muttered numbly. She started shaking, “you’re not kidding at all. How?” She pleaded.

“According to the histories, there was an accident with the talismans a few years after the first ships departed,” Estoc replied. “To this day we don’t really know what exactly went wrong, but it certainly stands as a dark moment in our history. One of many, I’m afraid.”

“That’s… awful,” Tex said. “Do you at least know some of what happened?”

“From what my researchers told me, the talismans maintaining the day and night cycle failed after a few years of operation. No one knew how to maintain the spells, or why they stopped working.”

“Celestia...” Tex said. “Celestia helped make them. I knew they were only supposed to be a temporary measure, but they should have lasted longer than that!”

“History says otherwise,” Estoc said. “You knew Celestia?”

Tex’s mood visibly improved. “Well, yeah, I was kinda her personal assistant.”

Estoc gawked, his jaw hanging loosely open.

“What? is something wrong? Was it something I said?” Tex asked, looking at me. I really didn’t have an answer for her.

“You… you knew Her Grace?” Estoc asked breathlessly.

A dark look came over Tex’s features, “First off, she hates that term, and second, if I hear one mention of goddess this, or her highness that, I’m ending this conversation. Celestia hated it when people venerated her. I can’t tell you how many cults she had to quell over her lifetime, and that before I was even made!”

Estoc regained himself, “I’m sorry, of course.” I could have sworn I heard him say something about goddesses under his breath.

“What was she like?” I asked Tex.

Tex looked up, as if remembering something fondly. “Warm. Kind. Like the mother you never had,” she said with a distant smile.

The pit of my stomach sank. That, I knew too well.

Tex continued. “But she could also be steel. She had a mask like you’d never believe, and she wore it around everypony. She was always so lonely, even with her sister by her side.”

Estoc nodded quietly. “I must admit, this is a lot to absorb. The way you talk about her makes her seem so… normal.”

Tex frowned. “Because she was. She was just a pony, your grace, just like you, and that’s all she wanted.”

Estoc winced.

“So what happened?” I asked, changing the subject, and then clarified, “with the Salvation. I mean.”

Tex tilted her head, thinking. “Um well we-” Her face blanked. “Data corrupted,” She droned. “Sorry. Most of it’s gone.”

Estoc’s face soured. “Damn. Can… can you recall anything? Anything at all? Details? Places? What was your mission? What happened to the other ships?”

Tex’s mouth worked, “I-I uh oh.” Her face suddenly concentrated. “Dammit! Corruption is spreading. Hang on while I isolate this. Stupid virus.”

“Virus? You have a virus?” I asked, suddenly alarmed.

Tex rolled her eyes. “Just a memory worm,” she explained, “If I had access to my main database I’d be able to just purge it, but it attacked my antivirus first.” She straightened, “There. That should do for now. As long as I don’t get too close to it, I should be fine. I forgot the stupid thing was there. I wonder if it caused that. Ugh.”

“What did you lose?” Estoc asked warily.

Tex focused, and then deflated. “Oh dang it! The Prancing Pony, volume two. I liked that one! I’ve only read it a few thousand times, too.”

“Are you able to answer my questions at all?” Estoc asked hopefully.

Tex hummed, “maybe some of them. Mission, let’s see-” She rubbed a leg under her chin. “We were sent out to find out what happened to the Golden Dawn. We…” She stopped, mid-thought. Estoc leaned forward, hanging on her every word. “succeeded,” Tex finally said. She stared forward blankly as her eyes widened. “We were attacked,” she said numbly. “Ponies died.” Her image sank to the couch beside me. “Everyone died. The ships they…” She looked ahead, comprehension dawning on her face.

“We were attacked by our own people,” she muttered.

Ice ran through my veins. Estoc’s jaw worked.

“W-what?” Estoc managed.

Tex blinked as her voice switched to monotone. “Data not found,” she blushed, “I’m sorry, I spaced out there. What were we talking about?”

You could hear a pin drop, even above the thrum of the Bandit’s engine.

“Enough,” Estoc said weakly, “I think I’ve heard enough. Thank you for your time.”

“Uh, sure!” Tex said cheerfully, “My pleasure, I think.”

I watched as Estoc left us, stumbling slightly as he hit the control for the cargo hold.

“So, um… what just happened?” the filly asked me.

I didn’t have an answer for her.

***

The rest of the trip passed quietly. Estoc didn’t bother me again for Tex for the time being and everyone else just kept busy doing their own thing. Tick pointedly ignored me for some reason—I didn’t really know why—so I spent the final leg of our journey in the pilot’s cabin with Jess, eager to learn some of the procedures that were standard out in this region of space. As a PBJ headhunter, Jess was very well-traveled. I figured I could learn a thing or two from her if I was going to be out on my own someday.

We eventually arrived at one of the stations orbiting New Canterlot, the Core’s political and industrial hub.

***

It was with wide eyes that I took in the sight that followed. I had thought that I had seen large stations before, was impressed with their size, and told myself, ‘wow that thing is gigantic.’

The station orbiting New Canterlot put all that to shame. I’m not sure if a single word would be at all useful in describing it. Monolithic, is the first thing that comes to mind, but in the heat of the moment the only thing I could say was,

“Holy, fucking shit.”

THIS was the Core, the central hub for most of the commerce flowing in and out of Unicorn space, and the key headquarters for most of the major corporations that ran it, both inside, and outside national borders. It wasn’t a single station, it was a megaplex, a conglomeration of equally massive stations seemingly welded together to form some gargantuan superstructure that I’m sure rivaled the size of one of New Canterlot’s many moons. And this was only one of the stations orbiting the planet. In the far distance I could see many, many more, each owned by a different company, and each virtually a nation to itself.

Numbers started running in my head. A pony could make quite a lot of bits ferrying supplies between the stations, but then again, judging by the seemingly endless lines of ships and cargo snaking their way into and out of the starports I wasn’t the first pony to think of that. A bigger ship chose that moment to blink in, a massive freighter that barely even hesitated before aligning with one of the larger space elevators and powering forward on its sixteen industrial grade thrusters.

I stood in awe of industry. It was everything I could do to keep my mouth from hanging open like some stupid fish.

“First time in the Core, Horizon?” Jess asked, glancing back at me from the pilot seat. She wore a knowing grin that flashed with her steely blue eyes.

Mutely, I nodded.

Jess laughed, “Yeah, it gets me every time too. Gotta be quick on your hooves too, else you’ll start drawing attention from the local authorities. They don’t like it when you hold up the line.” Immediately, Jess turned back to the controls and started us on a course I didn’t quite understand.

“That sounds like it came from experience,” I said, tearing my eyes off the scene through the viewport and looking at Jess.

The mare shrugged, “The PBJ isn’t very well liked around this sector. The station cops think they have everything under control and try to keep us out. It used to be a real point of contention between us and them before they set up the contracts that give us our freedom to work.” Jess punched a few buttons on the control board before sending her authorization to the tower, “Still, so long as we stay out of their business, they’re willing to let us go poking after fugitives from the PC. I still don’t know how the old director pulled that one out of his ass.”

Jess shook her head for a moment and then sighed, “We’ll be docked in another thirty minutes or so. I hope you have our pick-up’s contact information otherwise we’re never going to find them—not within a week, anyway.”

Fritter had sent it along with his request. His wife knew to expect me, but I was pretty sure she didn’t know when. I would need to send her a message at least, and that meant that I would need a solid M-Net connection. Messenger ho!

“I’ll be on the comms,” I said, taking one last lingering glance out the viewport before turning toward the door.

***

Out by the comm suite, I hooked in with my WAND and set to work, inputting the credentials I needed to send a message to Fritter’s wife. I had a hunch that she was also using a WAND, given the importance of her position, so I set up the details for a device to device connection. My hunch was correct. The details were enough, and before long I had a solid connection on the messenger client with which to send a brief message:

Connecting… connected.

>Hello. My name is Horizon Seldat, your husband asked me to come pick you up after my last run. We’re just now arriving and I have been told to expect a party of two. I’m sorry about the short notice.

Patiently, I waited for a reply while idly tapping one of my back legs on the deck. I didn’t have to wait long. The response from my intended customer was surprisingly prompt.

<Hello, Captain Seldat! I was wondering when you were going to arrive. My name is Pearl Shine. My husband did mention that you had some business to attend to prior to your pick-up, but he forgot to when I should be expecting you. I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bit of a bad time. I’m still packing things up here for the day, so if you will please inform me of which platform I should go to when you land, I will be by as soon as possible. I will be waiting for your response.

>Will do. We should be landing in thirty-minutes or so according to my pilot. Once I have the port info I will be sure to pass it to this number.

<Wonderful, I look forward to meeting you in person.

“Well that was easy,” I muttered. To be honest I had been expecting something more. Maybe some imminent danger or legal hoop we would have to jump through to complete the mission, and maybe get shot at in the process. I suppose that is a bit of an unhealthy way to look at things, but with my luck...

She seems nice. Tex suddenly said. And stop being so negative! Don’t you know it’ll put wrinkles on your face?

So does smiling. I thought back at her. And yeah, you’re right. She does seem like a nice pony.

I stopped to think a moment before adding. Also, stop reading my messages.

Ugh. Fine, Tex replied, and then she was gone, presumably off to pester somepony else. Probably Tick. Ever since Tick ran off in a huff, the program had been trying to make friends with her. Tick was having none of it. Any time the AI tried anything she would retreat to the cargo hold and turn off all the nearby devices. You’d think she had some sort of phobia or something. Bizarre for the usually machine crazy mare. Either way, the way she kept pushing the AI out was starting to frustrate it.

I added the thought to my ever growing list of things to look into before heading back to the pilot’s cabin to watch Jess pull us in.

***

Docking was an interesting thing to watch. Unlike the mining colony closer to the fringe of the Core, we weren’t allowed to go docking pell mell like I had gotten so used to with other parts of the universe. There were queues, just like in my hometown, but they moved much faster, and the majority of them relied almost entirely on magic once you reached a certain point. After sitting in line for an hour or so to get our final clearance, we were instructed to power down the engines and wait for transport. At first I was a little skeptical as to exactly what was going to happen, but once an industrial grade TK field materialized around us and started pulling us along, I started to understand. Tens of ships were getting the same treatment all at the same time, and judging by the distance glow of several emitters, the station was using some sort of system similar to a WAND, only much, much bigger. It was big, flashy, and expensive, a theme that stuck with the decor as we moved along and got packed in with the other ships like sardines.The unicorn stations in the Core didn’t shy away from using magic, that’s for sure.

I watched the whole process with interest, paying special attention to the cues and authorizations that Jess gave in order to get her clearance, just in case I ever found myself needing to travel the same space again. It was an educational experience, to say the least.

Once we were all locked down, I sent a final confirmation to our pick-up with our hangar and pad number, and began the waiting game.

We weren’t allowed to get out and explore the station, unfortunately. Our docking clearance was for shipping only, meaning that besides picking up our cargo, we weren’t allowed to wander off and get into trouble. It was Tick who explained that one to me. Apparently you had to buy certain privileges for the more central stations, and those could run anywhere from a few measly bits, to a small fortune, or even more. Of course things were different if you were an actual citizen of the Core, at which point things became easier for you, but obtaining citizenship was hard, and harder still if you were not a particularly well-bred unicorn. The amount of bias was galling, but expected. After all, there were a lot of privileges that pegasi enjoyed in the PC that most other races couldn’t: exclusive clubs, stores, that sort of thing. Nothing I actually patronized, of course. Doing that required money and I wasn’t exactly rolling in bits before this whole mess started.

Thankfully we didn’t have to wait long. Our client had packed her things well, and arrived at our launch pad just a quarter past the hour.

***

“Excuse me! Are you Captain Seldat?” A voice like bells called from a short distance away. I raised my nose from a paper magazine Tick had picked up for me from one of the local vendors and looked around for the source. The platform we were on was fairly busy with ponies, but speaker could have stood out in a packed amphitheater. I had to blink a couple times to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. When the mirage didn’t go away I immediately had only one thought.

Hot damn! Fritter!

She was a pearly pegasus, her coat an attractive off-white that seemed to catch the light in ways that tricked the eyes into thinking it glowed. This was framed by a wavy pale pink mane that shimmered with the same level of care as her coat, and soft cerise eyes that reflected a kind of grace that probably left stallions crashing into walls. She was waving at me. Dumbly I waved back, and she approached with a calm, near heavenly gait that belied an easiness about her that seemed to radiate from her very soul.

“There you are! I was beginning to wonder if I’d run onto the wrong platform. There’s just so many these days that it’s easy to lose track,” she said. Her voice had a musical lilt to it that made me shiver.

This is fritter’s wife?! I thought.

Yes, and she’s waiting for an answer, Tex reminded me.

My brain shot into overdrive as I attempted to salvage the conversation.

“Uh, yes! I’m Captain Horizon,” I said awkwardly, “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name?”

The pegasus smiled in good humor. It was hard not to be swept away in it. “Pearl Shine,” she replied graciously, “it’s good to finally meet you captain, my husband has said nothing but glowing things about you in the emails we’ve been sending each other.”

I smiled back as warmly as I could. “Horizon Seldat, Captain of the Scrap Bandit. And I’m surprised to hear that he thinks so highly of me.”

She laughed. “Well, you know my husband, he’s always one to embellish little details here and there. I think it’s part of his charm.”

That he was. Wait… was I just insulted?

“I was told to expect a party of two,” I said.

Pearl nodded, “Yes, of course, please allow me to introduce my daughter,” she looked down and behind her, lowering her head toward something hiding between the few small bits of luggage she had brought with her, “Nutmeg, please come out and say hi to the nice captain for me?” She asked, raising a wing.

A peach wisp of a pegasus filly cautiously nosed her way out from underneath her mother’s wing and stood just barely in sight, her head held low. A peach eye peeked out from beneath her white and pink mane, which fell low and flat across her face.

“Um, hi,” she said softly. Against the din of the platform, I could barely hear her.

“And hello to you as well, Nutmeg,” I replied with a nod. She was definitely fritters daughter, judging by her coloration, although how Fritter’s overtly cheerful personality and his wife’s angelic gravitas combined to make this shy little filly, I had no idea.

She squeaked in response, retreating further into her mother’s embrace and just out of sight.

Pearl smiled patiently at her, before turning to address me. “You’ll have to forgive my daughter, she doesn’t do very well in crowded places. And the travelling the life I’ve had with the Ambassador has been especially hard on her. Would it be alright if we loaded up quickly? I’m hoping she will be more comfortable onboard.”

“Of course. We’ll take care of loading your things. Why don’t you get settled onboard, it should only be a couple days, before we arrive. Although I have to apologize as we don’t exactly have accommodations that a lady of your caliber might be… um… used to.”

She smiled graciously, “I understand. My husband already told me what to expect. Thank you for flying us out to meet him on such short notice. It really does save us quite a lot of trouble.”

“Just paying back a debt, ma’am, think nothing of it,” I replied.

With a smile and nod, she departed toward the Bandit, her little filly in tow.

Wow. She played you like a fiddle. Tex teased as I watched the two board.

Oh, don’t you sass me. Don’t you have like, calculations to run or something? I thought back.

Already done, Tex replied, and besides, your conversation was much more entertaining.

What? are you bored? If you want entertainment why you go ask Jess to share some of that stupid Soap Opera she keeps watching with you, I thought at her.

There was a pause, and I felt an overwhelming sense of surprise wash over me.

They’re STILL running that show? Tex thought, aghast. I’ve… I’ve got to investigate this.

And then she was gone.

“Okay then,” I said aloud, both disturbed and somewhat frightened. Apparently derelict ships weren’t the only thing to survive the old world.

Looking at the task ahead of me, I took a deep breath and set to work getting Pearl’s luggage aboard and prepared for the trip back.

60% Remaining...

Author's Note

Well that was a pretty quick turnaround. I'm a little surprised at myself. Then again, it lacks a major action sequence which is probably why it was a bit easier to write. Hope you enjoy. Onto the next.

20 - Rumors

Chapter 20

Rumors

“You seem a little under the weather, what’s the matter?”
“Hidden Scoop is dead.”
“The conspiracy theorist?”
“Yeah, apparently she died of a heart attack, which of course is ‘completely unrelated’ to the case she was chasing. I’ll give you two guesses which.”
“Shit.”
-3357 E.C. Military records go missing from government archives. Personnel involved in S.T.A.R.S. program disappear without a trace.

“You know, I’m honestly surprised that you’re still here,” I said as a flame haired buck crossed the living area toward the ladder well. Estoc paused at my comment casually glancing over in my direction. It really was a surprise to me. Despite landing in a heavily populated sector with plenty of more qualified pilots to carry him, the flame-haired buck decided to stick it out on the Bandit. “I figured you would have left the moment we set down.”

We were well on our way back to Winter’s Edge, mostly to drop off Fritter’s family, who had found a nice little spot in the cargo hold to set up some bedding while the ship was underway. Granted, the omnipresent reek of my couch had probably influenced their decision, but even that smell wasn’t enough to keep the little filly at bay for long, who had taken a strong liking to watching cartoons on the holoprojector we’d repurposed into a makeshift TV. Jess took mock offense to the intrusion, arguing at length with the little filly about who should control the channel, and losing spectacularly. That filly had a future in politics.

Estoc staying with us, on the other hoof, surprised me greatly. I had fully expected him to book the first shuttle out of the Core to the NSR, or call in some of his big wig subordinates to come pick him up. Not that I’m one to complain seeing as soon as we landed he made good on his word and paid me for helping him finish his mission. All told, I ended up a cool six thousand bits in the black. It would have been more, but Jess and Nightshade insisted on getting a cut for their roles in the mission. I was happy to share, really. Even if they did take a sizeable portion of the job reward, I wasn’t about to turn Junkyard and screw them over. For all we’d been through together, they deserved the payday just as much as I did. I offered Tick some too, as a matter of principle, but she declined it, so I split her portion among the rest of us.

Estoc flashed me another one of his practiced smiles. “I don’t see why you should be so surprised,” he said. “You know my circumstances, and I’m not about to book another pilot I can’t trust.”

I arched an eyebrow, “you trust me?” I asked.

Estoc inclined his head. “After a sort. You have proven yourself to be a competent pilot, if a bit abrasive, and then there’s the matter of that AI,” he said, suddenly taking a more serious tone. “I’m not about to let some random spacer walk away with one of the greatest historical finds in centuries. That program is a goldmine of information.”

“I do have a name, you know?” Tex chimed in through the intercom, annoyed. My WAND flared and her amber image appeared between us.

Estoc coughed. “My apologies, Miss…Tex, it’s just that you’re such a significant achievement in Equine science that it’s hard to restrain myself. I do hope you’ll be open to discussing some things later? perhaps?”

“Maybe,” Tex said warily. “But, I really don’t want a repeat of that virus incident again. Who knows what I could lose next?”

Estoc’s smile faded a little, but he took it in stride, “Of course,” He said, nodding to the amber hologram, before returning his attention to me. “In any case, Horizon, I hope you don’t mind that we continue journeying together.”

“Not as long as you keep paying,” I replied with a smirk.

“Naturally,” he said with a nod. “You will be well-paid for you services, that I can guarantee you.” He smiled. “In the meantime I suppose it would be in my best interest to lay low for the time being. If my hunch is correct, the attack on my ship was probably the start of a coup back in my territory. So I’ll need some time to survey the situation and plan my return carefully. Your broker friend may be able to help with that. Fritter? wasn’t it?”

I nodded.

“Excellent. I hope you will introduce us once we arrive.”

“I think he can introduce himself,” I replied. “We don’t really stand on etiquette out here, if you haven’t figured that out already.”

Estoc chuckled quietly. “As I am ever reminded,” he replied. With a last nod, he stepped up to the ladderwell and disappeared up the steps.

“He creeps me out,” Tex suddenly said, still watching the staircase.

I snorted. “Why’s that?” I asked her.

“He’s too direct. Like, he’s just talking to people to get something out of them,” Tex said, frowning. “He tries to hide it with good manners but… I don’t know, I just don’t like the way he looks at me, sometimes.”

My smile fell a little bit. I suppose it was risky keeping Tex with me. Especially since she represented something that the Prince wanted bad. Maybe I should start watching my back.

“He’s a client,” I said, suddenly not feeling as comfortable as I had before, “as long as he doesn’t cause trouble and keeps paying, I don’t have an issue with him.” Yet. I added mentally.

Tex sighed, “Whatever. I’m bored. I’m gonna go find that filly again, she’s fun.”

“Just don’t break anything this time,” I said. A moment later Tex disappeared.

“You know, for a random spacer, you certainly keep some high-profile company,” a silky, musical voice said. I turned idly toward the cargo hold to see Pearl coming through the hatch.

I shrugged, “they seem like normal ponies to me.” I replied.

She laughed. “And that’s probably why they tolerate you,” she said, and then looked toward the ladderwell after Estoc. “Still, I never quite imagined I would see the Prince of the Morningstar and the first heir of Clock Industries in the same room together again—much less, travelling together.”

I looked her up and down briefly, “You’ve seen them together before?”

She smiled. “Of course! Their wedding was supposed to be one of the biggest events in the Core.” Pearl stared into the distance briefly, as if remembering, “Many of the highest members of society were invited, including the PC ambassador for political reasons. It was my second year on the job, at the time.” She laughed, the noise sounding like bells in my ear. “Oh, what a scandal that turned out to be. The bride stopped in the doorway, looked at her father, and then told him to go fuck himself.”

My jaw dropped. Tick did that?

“I know what you’re thinking, and yes, she did.” The pegasus laughed. “After she said it the room was so silent you’d have thought someone died! Come to think of it, I believe the Duchess of Qilin nearly did. She choked on an olive she had filched from the caterers. But even with Duchess choking there, Lady Clock didn’t care. She simply turned in the doorway and trotted out, never to be seen in public again.” Pearl shook her head. “Everypony was talking about it for months after. I don’t think her father ever saved face after that debacle. It certainly has become a conversation topic at certain dinners every year.”

“I’ll have to ask her about that some time,” I said, more to myself than anyone else.

“You should,” she said with a gracious nod. “I’m sure it would make for excellent conversation, if nothing else.”

I filed that under things to do later.

“In any case, Captain, do you know when we will be arriving? My daughter has never been very good about staying in one place for too long.”

That was an understatement. In what little time we had spent here she had already broken six different machines, much to Tick’s horror, and had nearly stranded us in deep space when she wandered a little too close to the Sparkle Drive. Energetic, yes. Rambunctious, definitely. Shy? Not as much as I had first thought. Once she came out of her shell, she came out in a big way. And on that note, Tex served as an excellent ice-breaker. When Tex came out and said hell, the filly’s eyes went so wide I could have probably driven a ship through her pupils. The chaos that followed is why there was now a dent in ceiling over my couch. Getting the filly off my ship was high on my list of priorities, both for our safety and my sanity.

“We should be arriving some time this evening,” I said. “I’m sorry if the accommodations aren’t exactly first class. The Bandit is still a work in progress.”

Pearl laughed. “You haven’t seen some of the hotels I’ve been to. Trust me when I say that what you have provided is perfectly fine.”

Considering all I really had to give her were a few blankets and sleeping bags, that was saying something. Of course she was probably just saying that to ease my guilt.

“Glad to be of service,” I replied.

She nodded and left, retreating back into the cargohold. Taking a breath, I sat back on the couch and went back to my nap.

***

True to my word, within the day we finally arrived home at Winter’s Edge. With a quick bout of gab between myself and the tower I brought us in for a steady landing and shot a message off to Fritter to meet us at the docks. He agreed, and by the time I the docking clamps had finished locking us in place, I could easily see him waving eagerly on the platform below, beaming like the lovable idiot he was.

I locked up, set the ship into low power mode, and joined the others on our way out, landing on the platform just in time to see something special.

For a brief moment, Nutmeg gasped, freezing on the platform, and staring wide-eyed at the peach pegasus waiting for them. “Daddy!” The filly was off like a shot, homing in on Fritter and colliding with him in a massive hug. His wings shot wide for balance, and together they spun in place, Fritter enfolding the little filly with his wings while kissing his daughter on the forehead. The beatific smile on Fritter’s face practically glowed as he leaned into the embrace, nuzzling the side of her neck and reaching his legs around her barrel to give her a gentle squeeze.

“Hey pumpkin. It’s been a while, huh?” Fritter said, breaking the embrace just enough to look at his daughter with pride, “and look at you!” He said cheerfully, “you’re getting so big now! Pretty soon I bet you’ll be turning all the heads in New Canterlot.”

The filly groaned. “Ugh. Daaaaad. Colts are grody.”

Fritter laughed, “Yep! And I hope they stay that way.” The comment earned him a swat on the shoulder from his wife, who had just pulled up beside him.

“Behave, darling,” Pearl said, retracting her wing and folding it at her side, “And besides, where’s mine?”

They both smiled, and leaned in for a tender kiss. When they broke, they nuzzled, and Pearl joined the hug that the filly simply wouldn’t let go.

I’d never known what it was like to see someone with stars in their eyes before then. Fritter wore but a simple, broad smile, but it held a happiness in it that seemed to make the world around him slow down. Everything just seemed like it wasn’t really important any more. It was just the three of them, like they were simply alone on the platform and everything was right with the world. The feeling had presence, a weight, and it radiated between them with a warmth like fire.

I’d be lying I said I didn’t envy him. Take away everything he’d ever accomplished, all his things, his health, his wealth, even flight, and he’d still be rich.

“Aw…” Tick said, as we watched the three catch up, “they’re so cute!”

All I could really do was nod. Whatever I needed to do, it could wait.

“I think I’m gonna go freshen up,” I said, turning to the others. Truth be told I probably needed a shower badly.

“Good idea,” Jess said with a smirk, “you stink.”

Okay, so, definitely needed a shower. “Metaphorically or literally speaking?”

“Both,” Jess laughed, and then turned to Tick, “want to hit up those spas again, Tick?”

“Sure!” Tickintime replied, and the two of them broke off.

“I don’t suppose you know a few places to get some sleep around here, would you? Nightshade?” I overheard Estoc ask as the others noisily broke away toward the wide catwalk leading to the station proper.

“I might know a few places,” Nightshade replied, joining the exodus.

Welp, looks like it’s just you and me, Horizon. Tex said to my brain.

“Nope. It’s just you,” I replied. Reaching up, I took off my WAND and stuffed it inside my pack. Distantly, I could hear the Tex’s muffled yells of indignation coming from the earbuds. With a smile I joined the others heading back into the station.

There wasn’t much left for me to do after that. I dropped in to thank Joe for getting the apartment set up and reassured him that his job was next on my list. Having run the errand for Fritter seemed to ameliorate him a little bit, but I could tell he was getting at least a little testy at not having his product yet. Conversation shifted from there into what I needed to do in order to register the apartment to me. After I had mentioned it to Fritter, Joe went ahead with getting the paperwork I needed to settle in prepared, and, by the time I finally plopped down inside my brand new apartment, I had a stack of paper about a foot high to sort through. Most of it could wait until later, however, so I only signed off on the few digital signatures I needed to get sorted and promised myself to look at the rest tomorrow. I took a nice, long shower and then crashed hard, enjoying for the first time my own soft bed, and pillows that were well and truly mine.

It was home. It felt like home. I was home. And it was awesome. I drifted off into the best sleep I’d had in years.

***

I slept in. The next morning I got up and stretched, ran through some calisthenics in the living room, watched the news on the holo, you know, normal things. Well as normal as could be done when you had an AI hijacking everything for her own amusement.

“Look! Look! I can make his face go all blaaagh!” Tex shouted through the speakers. The talking head on the news distorted as his jaw seemingly unhinged, opening wide to form a gap in the transmission. “I think he’s trying to tell you something!” The mouth moved in time with the words, complete with her own special attempt to make the whole thing sound spooky, “Horizon. Horiiiiiizoooon. Put on your WAAAAAND. Unleash me, Horizon! UNLEASH MEEEEE!”

I snorted. “Wow, they’ve really improved the news segments these days,” I wondered aloud. “I could watch this all day.”

“Oh! Come on!” Tex shouted back. “Please? I’m bored out of my mind in here!” Tex popped back into view, taking a position in all of her short glory. “At least find me a book or something?”

In true color, tex looked… different. Away from the amber glow of my WAND, she slowly shifted from shade to shade, alternating between pink and purple, then blue and magenta and all of the other colors of the rainbow seemingly at random. What I did notice, however, was that she heavily favored purple. She seemed to fade in and out of it while she shifted to the other colors.

“A book? Can’t you just download one off the M-Net? Why do you even need to read anyway?”

“Because… um, reasons.” Tex said cryptically.

I raised an eyebrow.

“The local M-Net isn’t accepting my credentials! Okay?” Tex complained.

“So you can’t connect to the M-Net?”

The hologram blushed. “No! I mean, well, no. I can connect to the M-Net, it’s just that everything is all wrong!” Tex complained, “All my servers are gone, everything is all weird and in the wrong place, and every time I try to log into any of my older systems they try to lock me out! I mean, sure, I understand being a little upset that I’ve been gone for so long but they could at least spare me the cold shoulder!” Tex moaned, pacing back and forth across my living room while I watched from the sofa. “I can connect just fine when you’re with me since I can just piggyback off of your credentials, but the moment I try and use my own I get locked out! I just can’t figure out what the problem is!” She plopped down, blowing a few strands of imaginary hair out of her face. “So yeah, I can’t connect to the M-Net by myself. Which means no updates, no backups, and-” she sighed, her ears drooping, “no books.”

“I’m still struggling to wrap my head around the idea that you read books for fun,” I said.

“Hey, just because I can read them in less than a second doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy them!” Tex replied.

I shrugged, “Still, it just seems funny to me that you have hobbies.”

“Deal with it,” Tex deadpanned. “Now could you please put me on?”

I smirked as I picked up my WAND and started strapping it on. “Yes ma’am.” My smile faded a little when I started noticing some little inconsistencies in the usual startup routine.

“Uh, Tex?” I said, bringing up the utility programs to check recent changes. My smile was gone now. Several programs were missing. Rather important ones, actually. “Have you been making changes on my WAND?”

Three seconds passed before I got a reply.

“Uh, maybe?”

“So that’s a yes,” I said, frowning.

“Yeah. Sorry, I just needed a little extra room! Honest! I wanted to unpack a few things so I could use a few of my old functions, so I might have, um, deleted a few things to make space.”

“What did you do.” It was not a question.

“Nothing too important! I mean, most of it was pretty badly coded anyway, I mean, that environmental scanning program, Blech! I could code something better in my sleep!”

“You don’t sleep,” I said.

“Er, right. But don’t worry! I can bring it back! Better! Even! Just, um, if you wouldn’t mind, could you like, get some more storage space or something? I’m really feeling cramped in here.

I sighed. “How much more space do you need?”

Tex laughed nervously, “about, um, six Petabytes?”

I was silent for a while. “Please tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it means.”

My brain tickled.

“It does,” Tex replied.

“Fuck.”

“Don’t worry! I’m sure there’s a vendor somewhere that can upgrade the memory! I mean, I haven’t been able to search through the station directory yet, but I’m sure there’s something here! Every station has one!”

“Tex?”

“Um, yes?”

“I’ll get you more storage, alright? Just, please, don’t delete anything else. The last thing I need is for my WAND turning into a fancy paperweight,” I said.

Tex blew a raspberry, “Oh, no worry of that. As long as I’m here I can keep running the critical systems no problem! Heck, I could probably boot it off my main program if I wanted to! I wonder what would happen if I tried that…”

“No,” I said, cutting her off.

“Aww, but…”

“No,” I repeated. “Promise me you’ll stop?”

Tex sighed. “Fine.”

“Good girl.”

“I’m not a dog you know,” Tex responded.

“Keep that up and I’ll start telling you to fetch.”

“Ha, ha.” Tex rolled her eyes, “I’ll work on some replacements for your programs. Sorry that I, um, deleted them.”

“Fair is fair.” I replied, and then opened up the messenger program, which, mercifully, hadn’t been touched.

There was no real news to report. Somehow, Estoc had gotten a hold of my contact information and was trying to set up an appointment where he could talk to Tex again. I pushed that request off to the side while I scrolled through the rest. Jess wanted to get together for that phone call to Prism; Tick wanted to go shopping for some parts, though she could probably do that on her own time; and Fritter wanted me to drop by his stand later in the day to talk business. Immediately, however, I had nothing to do. I shot off a message to Jess to arrange a time for our call, and then sat back down on the couch. Faced with the terrifying prospect of free time, I decided to make the most of it, and at least get some preening done. Luna knew I needed it.

I worked until my wings were in good shape. The sheathes in my flight suit had made a real mess of them, especially in my secondaries where the wings met the joints. Setting them in order took a while, but felt good, and waxing the feathers always made me feel like a new pegasus afterward. Satisfied, I suited back up, but left the sheathes off. After all, there was no sense in ruining a good preen so quickly.

After I was done, I still had time to kill. Jess still hadn’t responded to my request, and I dutifully ignored the one from Estoc. I wasn’t exactly eager to sit and listen to him grill Tex for another few hours. Instead, I dropped by the entertainment district and did a little shopping, first for some basic ship supplies, and also for Tex’s upgrade. She helped me with the purchase, pointing out which of the new modules would be compatible with my WAND, much to the astonishment of the mare behind the counter. A few of the other patrons stopped to gawk as well, and Tex enjoyed the attention. I played chauffeur. I paid for the memory upgrade, although not before cringing at the price tag, and the clerk installed it for me. Once I had it back, Tex immediately got to work on ‘unpacking’ or whatever. Whatever she did, she seemed pleased with herself. By the time we were done, It was time to check in with Fritter.

***

“What… the hell?” I said.

There was a line at Fritter’s stand—a very, very long line. Bewildered, I stared at the scene wondering just what in Equestria had happened to warrant this. Ignoring the line, I got some air for a moment to look over the crowd, and traced it back to where I knew Fritter was sitting.

To say that Fritter was busy, would have been an understatement. Fritter was getting his ass kicked. The poor buck was scrambling back and forth at his cart, struggling to fill orders. Knowing that I’d never push through the crowd of earth ponies below me, I gently hovered my way over, ignoring the frustrated glares of the ponies I passed.

“Fritter, what the heck is going on here?” I asked, settling into a hover just over his cart.

Fritter looked up at me with a broad grin, a little bit of lather on his neck. “Amazing? right? I found the old recipe my ma used to make when I was little. Well, re-figured out, anyway.”

“Yes, It’s amazing what can happen when you remember to label everything correctly,” His wife said, popping up from the oven she was working at with a fresh batch of fritters floating in her WAND’s TK. The ponies in front watched the tray with hungry eyes as she set it down to cool. “This lovable idiot mixed up the salt with the baking soda.” She said, swatting Fritter with a wing.

Well that explained a lot. Especially the smell. Whatever was on that tray smelled divine. I had already eaten, and my mouth was still watering. I had to swallow before I could continue. “I take it now is a bit of a bad time then?”

Fritter laughed, “A little bit, yeah. How about this, why don’t you swing by my apartment a little later? We can talk shop then. That’s what I’m having Jess do, too.”

“Daddy! I got the new orders ready!” Nutmeg shouted, pulling into a hover next to me and handing off a notepad to him. Fritter’s head turned to accept the present. And he smiled as he looked the new list over.

“Great job! Nutmeg! I’ll be sure to get these in the oven right away!”

The filly positively beamed.

Smiling I turned away for the time being, resolving to try again later.

***

Later turned out to be much later. Fritter couldn’t get away from his stand until much later than evening and I was stuck wandering the halls in the meantime. I entertained myself well enough, however. I used the time to get the rest of my paperwork for the apartment squared away and then stopped by Joe’s place to ask him where I should drop it off. Directions in tow, I finalized the payments and paid the first few months of rent and a short while later I walked out of the government office with the deed to the apartment and a small bottle of apple cider to celebrate the occasion. I stocked the fridge with some foods that would last a while and then by the time I was done with my shopping, I received a message from Fritter saying he was ready to see me, as well as directions to his place. I took a moment to put the last of my groceries into the fridge and then headed out to meet him.

It became increasingly obvious as I navigated the tight corridors of the earth pony station that wherever Fritter lived, it was in fact in one of the more decent areas of the station. While not well-off by any stretch of the imagination, the corridors were clean, the local amenities seemed to be kept in good repair, and security teams that occasionally wandered the halls had a look of boredom about them, and maybe a few donuts too. After about twenty minutes of searching, and a bit of prodding from Tex, I finally found it near a lift closer to the utility district, not too far from the food court where he usually set up shop. I punched in the doorcode he had sent me with his message and the door slid neatly open, making a small, pleasant chime in the process.

By the looks of things, I wasn’t the first pony there. Not by a long shot. For whatever reason, most of the crew had showed save Nightshade. Jess came in some relaxed wear while Tick had finally changed out of her jumper into some fresh clothing. I had to double-take at that. I had grown so accustomed to the ugly green thing that I had never considered what else she might wear. Tick had settled on a red scarf, that hung in a loose knot around her neck and went nicely with her coat, although, for whatever reason, I still noticed a wrench stuck in some of the lower folds of the knot. The prince was there as well and, by the look of the datapad he held in his WAND’s magic and the frown on his face, had already completed his business.

“Ah! There you are, Horizon.” Fritter announced as I entered.

Fritter’s home was surprisingly cozy. Far from the utilitarian style I had come to expect from ponies like Nightshade, Fritter’s home was absolutely rife with family paraphernalia, with at least one family photo of him and his wife adorning nearly every wall and end table, and a few more with their most recent addition. A plush couch and set of chair had been set up in the living room, alongside a low table with a pile of low-end electronics on top, where Tick was showing the little filly how to put the pile of whatever it was back together. The filly seemed interested to a degree, although I think she was more taken with Tick’s display of magic than the subject matter. Across from them, another holoprojector sat inactive on top of a small entertainment center, with several movies laying around its base and a laptop hooked up next to it. Probably the best part of his apartment was the extra room. The apartment had a loft. The ceiling was higher than most, which gave plenty of vertical space for a pegasus to at least stretch their wings in, and helped alleviate the otherwise claustrophobic corridors the station seemed plagued with. With a good night's rest, a good meal, and a clean body, the extra space made me feel very comfortable.

“Nice place,” I said, nodding to Fritter as the door closed behind me.

He smiled back. “I know? Right? It took me a while to build up to this, but I think it was worth it in the end. Pearl and I needed a place where we could stretch our wings after a long day of work, and this place just happened to go on the market around the time I got the word she was coming back from her assignment. So, I got in on it as quick as I could and managed to snag it before somepony else came along. Good thing too, the last place was not even half this size and built like a coffin.”

I shuddered. I’d heard stories about the smaller rooms onboard some stations, usually given to long term ponies who had little in the way of resources. They served as a place to sleep and little else. There wasn’t room for anything else. They might have been popular among some earth pony bachelors, but you give only six feet of living space to a pegasus and they’ll go nuts in a hurry.

“Well, I’m glad you’re moving up,” I said.

Fritter smiled and rubbed his neck with a hoof. “Thanks, sorry about earlier, by the way. Business is always good when my wife comes back to visit, but I wasn’t expecting it to be that good.”

“Seriously,” I replied. “I think I saw the line curving around the corridors.”

Fritter’s face lit up. “Oh yeah! Talk about crazy? Huh? Oh, by the way, I saved you one if you want it? It might be a little cold now, but-” He bent back into his fridge, setting out a plate with a fritter on it in front of me. Hesitantly, I took a sniff before taking a small cautious bite.

“Wow, it actually doesn’t taste like cardboard.” I said, before scarfing down the rest of it. Even cold, it was actually quite good. Somehow he’d managed to keep the tartness of the apples after cooking without drowning it out with sugar.

Fritter laughed, “Yeah… I’m terrible when it comes to keeping track of my ingredients, so it helps a lot when I have somepony to help me sort them out correctly.” Fritter glanced over to his wife, who was sitting next to Tickintime while she was giving Nutmeg a lesson. He smiled that smile again. Not the annoying one, but the one that spoke of a buck who had everything in the world. “I’d lose my own head if it weren’t for her.”

Pearl looked up from Nutmeg’s impromptu project and smiled back. “Oh, I wouldn’t say lose it, but definitely put in on backwards in the morning,” she tittered.

Fritter chuckled, taking a breath and exhaling, before looking at me with a satisfied grin. “I’m tellin you Horizon. Married life? There’s nothing like it.”

“I’ll say,” I replied. Lucky buck.

“Well, enough stalling, I suppose. Honey? Could you take Nutmeg over to her room for a bit? I need to talk business with some friends really quick.”

Pearl’s smile faded into a thin line. “I thought you said you were going to give up the trade.”

Fritter winced, “I was, but you know how well the stand pays when you’re not around.”

She gave him a look that said something similar to, we’re talking about this later, before sighing. “Alright, but you better be careful. Our daughter needs a father who is around for her college graduation.”

“Honey, she’s ten,” Fritter replied. "It's too early to plan for that.

Pearl huffed, “It’s best to plan ahead, dear.” She turned. “Meg? Honey, why don’t we take this little project to your room? I’m sure you’ll have a lot more space to work on it there.”

Nutmeg looked up. “Aw… but mom! I’m almost done with this… uh, thing!” She pointed to the pile of parts on the table next to where Tickintime was sitting. Tick simply passed Pearl a knowing smirk.

“I know dear, it’s just for a moment. Daddy has some business to take care of. That’s all.”

“But, we already closed up for today.” Nutmeg said.

Pearl put on a patient smile, “Yes we did, but sometimes we adults like to talk about work that little fillies aren’t quite ready to hear about yet.”

Nutmeg rolled her eyes. “You always say that.”

“And it’s always true. Now come on, let’s go.”

“Fine,” Nutmeg grumbled. Together, Pearl led the little filly down the abode’s short hallway and out of sight.

“She’s really smart for her age.” Tick said, admiring the little filly as she rounded the corner, before glancing back down at the half completed project sitting on the table. “Give her enough time, and I think she might make a good tech.”

Fritter laughed. “Well, coming from a pony like you I suppose that’s a great compliment. It’ll be a wonder if I can afford the training for her, though.”

Tickintime smiled wryly. “Oh, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with that.”

Fritter shrugged trotting over to his laptop and turning on his projector. “Maybe not, if all of you keep giving me so much work.” He laughed, “ Anyway, now that everypony’s here we can start. Onto business!”

The holo came to life, displaying a short list of programs as well as a Fritter’s desktop and a few personal folders. With a few keystrokes, the first bit came up. It was a blank document.

“Okay so, first things first. Horizon, I’d like you to update me on what happened to that convoy. Your friend over there already told me most of it, but I’d like your side of things as well.”

I looked at the document and then back at Fritter, who was waiting expectantly for my response. I opened my mouth.

“Well, there’s not much to tell, really. We found an emergency distress signal out near the coordinates you sent me, and followed it to find the prince over there.” I indicated where Estoc was standing with his WAND glowing, frowning at whatever he was reading.

“I’m sorry, did you say, prince?” Fritter said, taken aback.

“He didn’t tell you?”

At the mention of his title, the prince lifted his head and set the datapad aside before trotting up.

“I think the title may have slipped my mind at some point.” Estoc said with a practiced smile and then extended his hoof toward Fritter. “Estoc Morningstar, pleasure to meet you.”

Fritter stared at him, and at the proffered hoof before hesitantly bumping it. “Cherry Fritter,” he replied, uncertainty evident in his voice. “Sorry about the mess, I didn’t know you were-”

“It’s not a problem,” Estoc replied. “If anything I should be grateful to you for sending your friend here to come and get me. And many thanks as well for the information you’ve given me. It has been very… enlightening.”

“Y-yeah, sure,” Fritter replied.

With a nod, the prince broke away, returning to his datapad.

Fritter glanced between myself and Estoc, before finally settling his gaze on me. With wide eyes Fritter said, “Damn, Horizon, you sure have a knack for finding ponies.”

“It’s not intentional, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I replied. “Like I said, we just picked up a distress beacon out in the black and came to help. That’s all.”

“So he was correct when he said the convoy was destroyed.”

“Very,” I replied.

Fritter frowned, glancing away for a moment while he thought. “Interesting.”

“Is your client still planning on paying me?”

Fritter chewed his lip. “Well… um.”

“I am getting paid, right?” I asked, dreading the answer.

Fritter shook his head, “I’ll be honest, I have no idea. The client only wanted to know about what happened to the convoy. But if what your friend suggested to me a little while back is true, then I’m starting to doubt his intentions.”

“So, no. I’m not getting paid,” I sighed. Well I least I got paid by the prince. That was a bonus.

“Not till I have a chat with my client. No.” Fritter said.

“What are you going to tell him?” I asked.

Fritter looked at Estoc, who had resumed his browsing in the corner, and frowned “That my pilot found the convoy, and that it was destroyed. He never specified if there were any survivors. That should satisfy him, at least.”

Fritter blinked, “By the way, did you find what they were looking for?” He asked.

I smiled. “And then some,” I responded.

“Awesome! So was it good salvage? At least you could sell that, right?” He asked eagerly.

My smile faded.

“I'll take it that’s a no.”

“Extraction would have been… difficult.” I said, “we found the ship he was looking for, but it wasn’t exactly accessible. His ghost was in the middle of a pretty dense asteroid belt.”

“Damn. Well that’s a bummer.”

I shook my head. “Tell me about it. I don’t really know what these star things are, but it sure was a hell of a lot of trouble to find it.”

“Star? Wait… STARS? They were looking for the STARS?”

“You… know about them?”

Fritter sat down. “Well duh! They’re one of the greatest mysteries in history! And you found one?”

“Well, technically he found it.” I pointed to Estoc, who had started watching us again with interest. “I just helped him get there.”

Fritter merely gaped. “Found a star.” He mouthed. “Well, shit. What… what were you able to find? Anything?”

I shifted, in place, “well, we looked at it.” I said.

Fritter’s wonderment fell into into a stare. “You looked at it.”

“That’s about it,” I said.

Frittered stared, “that’s it? You just… looked at it?”

“Yep.”

“One of the greatest wonders of Equine engineering, and you just… looked at it,” he stated. “No boarding to find cool stuff or anything like that?”

I fixed him with a frown, “With my luck, do you honestly expect me to risk something that stupid again?”

Fritter frowned and sighed, “No, I suppose not.” He chuckled. “You looked at it. Nothing else?”

I smirked, “well I suppose there was one other thing. Tex? you can come out now.”

Silence. Fritter’s expression went from eager, to uncertain, to skeptical. My smirk fell.

Come to think of it, Tex had been suspiciously quiet.

Uh, Tex? I thought at her. Several seconds passed in silence.

Mmmm yeah? what’s up?

What are you doing?

Oh, you know, catching up on some reading. I figure I might as well reread my other series while I wait for you guys to do your thing. Why, do you need me?

“Uh, Horizon? Jokes are funny and all, but the timing on this one kinda sucks.” Fritter said, eyeing me warily.

Introduce yourself. I thought at her.

OH! Right.

My WAND flared to life.

“Hi! I’m Tex!” The filly said, floating beside us.

Fritter’s jaw dropped. Over on the couch, Tick groaned, turning away from the filly in a huff.

“Is that… an A.I.?” Fritter asked in awe.

“Yep! Well, sorta.” Tex replied. “I think I might be closer to an artificial lifeform, but.. I’m not sure if that really fits either.” The filly said, rubbing her chin with her nonexistent hoof.

“It’s so lifelike.” Fritter said, staring at her.

“And it is getting very tired of being called that particular pronoun,” Tex replied irritably. “I’m a mare. MARE. Not just some stupid little program.” Tex huffed, then blinked, “I’m sorry, what were we talking about again?”

“I… uh. Wow, I can’t remember anything I was going to say.” Fritter admitted sheepishly.

“Then how about I start and save you the trouble, then,” I interrupted. “I got a call from Chance as soon as I got back in Civilized space. He said he contacted you?”

Fritter brightened, still put off a little by the floating apparition beside us, but seemed to take it in stride. “Yes! Actually. He sent me a whole lot of stuff to work on too. Normally I wouldn’t take on something like this, but since it involved you somewhat I made an exception.” His smile fell, “I’m not so sure I should have.”

Fritter hit a key on his keyboard. Immediately images started popping up. They weren’t pretty. They looked like crime scene photos of victims taken by police, each dated differently. Tick gasped, turning various shades of green, while Jess looked on with interest.

“My word,” Estoc said, looking away from his datapad toward the images on the holo.

Seeing his audience, Fritter stepped up to the side of the display to explain.

“Yeah, not cool.” He said. “These were all taken from last week, from various sources around the empires. Or at least that is what my newer contacts have been feeding me.”

“Junkyard’s network?” I asked.

Fritter nodded. “Yeah. Apparently he was having quite a few of his ponies looking into this whole thing before his murder, and it looks like this is just the tip of the iceberg.”

“So he poked his nose where it didn’t belong, and someone whacked him for it?” Jess suggested.

Fritter nodded. “That would seem to be the case.”

“And that’s exactly why I don’t want you working on things like this.” Pearl said, as she walked back into the room with a frown. “Information is dangerous, Cherry.”

Fritter sighed. “I know, honey, I know. But just ignoring a problem isn’t going to make it better either, especially when it’s personal.”

Pearl gave him a look. “What do you mean it’s personal? What do any of these ponies have to do with-”

Fritter gave her a look back, this one seeming very tired. “They’re faders, Pearl. The victims are all faders, or related to them.”

Pearl’s face drained as her eyes widened. So did mine. It didn’t take me long to make the connection. Somepony beat the odds.

“No…” Pearl shook her head, sitting down as her wings and ears drooped.

Fritter grimaced. “Yeah.” Fritter looked at me, wearing a tired expression. “The details Chance sent me lined up with what my contacts have been sending. There’s definitely something going on, and somepony, probably a group, for that matter, has been actively hunting faders. Now there’s a lot of questions flying around. Other brokers on the M-Net have been throwing around all kinds of different theories, but the question that sticks out to me is, why changelings?”

“Why not?” Estoc interrupted. “Short of a hard physical impact there is not much that can detect a changeling in disguise. If they were so inclined they could be the perfect assassins. Maybe someone is paying them? Or using them to replace others?”

“But if they were replacing ponies, why murder them?” Jess countered. “It's against changeling M.O. Foalnap them, sure. I’ve busted up a ring of changeling hideouts once or twice, and those pods they haven’t aren’t just for show. They keep their victims safe so they can drain them. They’re no use to them dead, and not to mention, there are rogue drones to consider. Maybe some queen went nutso and her swarm turned on her. Are you sure this isn’t just a fluke?” She asked.

Fritter shook his head. “Positive. The more I look, the more I’m finding, and the numbers are starting to get very worrisome.”

“How many?” Tick asked, looking greener than normal.

Fritter looked at the images on the holo with a worried frown. “Hundreds, possibly thousands. I’ve been getting about six to ten new leads a day, and almost half of them have been cold cases. Whatever this is, it’s not new.”

“Just under the radar,” Jess interrupted. “This stinks.”

“Indeed.” Estoc said, “When I get back to the NSR, I think I’m going to have some of my own ponies look into this as well. They might not pose a threat to me, but I take the safety of my House very seriously.”

Even Tick nodded at that.

“Do you have any other information?” I asked.

Fritter shook his head. “It’s only been a couple of days. I’ll need time to sort through it all and more is coming in every day.”

“Maybe I can help?” Tex offered. “I’m super good at data mining.”

Fritter looked at the filly and grinned. “You know, I bet you’re right about that. I’d love a helping hoof.” His eyes widened. “Oh! Speaking of, I still have that cube of yours Horizon.”

Fritter grabbed the storage cube from a nearby shelf and set it on the coffee table.

“Did you find anything on it?” I asked.

He laughed nervously. “Actually, I couldn’t crack it.” He coughed. “Neither could anyone else. All the ponies I talked to couldn’t do anything with it either.”

“Well duh,” Tex said, interrupting him. “It doesn’t have any power silly. It might as well be a brick.”

Fritter blinked. “You know how to open one of these?”

Tex passed him a look. “Of course I do! They just need power and the right magical signature and they’ll pop right open. Don’t tell me you don’t have a reader for one of these things, they’re practically standard models!”

“Actually, use of storage cubes fell out of practice a few hundred years ago,” Tick said. “They were too finicky, and kept permanently locking out their own users. All the ones you find now are just relics. My mentor used to have one, but it wasn’t exactly in working condition. Either way, it’s all crystal drives, now.”

Tex looked downright depressed. “Oh right. Time.”

“Well, if you’re right about that, uh, Tex, maybe we could find a reader in an old tech shop?” Fritter suggested.

“I doubt it, but maybe,” Tick said, “I know of a couple of old places back in the Core that sold old tech like that.” She frowned. “I don’t know if they’re still in business, though.”

“Sounds like more research to me.” I said.

Fritter nodded. “But this is the easier kind. Finding old tech in a shop? No problem. Anyway, that’s all I’ve got for now. Oh, and Jess, I’ve got info for you on your ship. Possible candidates. If you can identify one of them I can narrow it down some more for you.”

Jess smiled. “Cake. Send it. I’ll look it over.”

Fritter shut down his laptop, and settled to the ground. “And that’s that. Now I’m hate to boot you all out, but it’s getting a little late and I need to put the filly to bed soon.”

“Understandable, of course.” Estoc said, straightening his outfit. “I still need to make reservations for the night anyway.”

Several murmurs of agreement went out and we all took our leave. On my way out Fritter pulled me aside at the door and handed me a small data fob.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Alone,” He simply replied and then shut the door behind him. I got his meaning shortly afterward.

***

It was late by the time I got back to my apartment. My apartment. The thought of it still felt good. Setting aside my flight suit, I took the fob and then used my WAND to access it while Tex was off playing with the holo.

My feed lit up with a few new messages, and several video files. I opened the messages first and looked up the one that was marked ‘read first’.

Okay Horizon. I got word back from my contact on Nightshade. She sent me more evidence, and boy is there a lot of it. You need to see this. -SZ

Attached were several video files with a smattering of dates ranging anywhere from three to fifteen years ago and beyond. Walking over to the TV, I sent the oldest file to the receiver, and primed it.

“Hey Tex, could step aside a moment, I need to take a look at something?” I said.

The filly's image looked at me funny as she shifted out of the way and left the holo alone. “What, this file? Uh, sure okay.” A look of understanding passed on her face and she frowned. “Wait, why are you snooping on your friends? That’s not a very nice thing to do. If your friend knew, I’m pretty sure he’d be upset with you. Friends don’t spy on each other.”

Really, there was no point in hiding anything from her. Tex could practically read my mind, and definitely my mail. I sighed.

“I’m doing this because I’m concerned, Tex. There’s a lot Nightshade is hiding, and I’m not sure if it’s good,” I said.

“Kind of hypocritical, isn’t it? I mean I did hear about that conversation you had with Ms. Clock, you know.”

Ouch. Yeah, getting called out on your bullshit kinda stings. “That’s… different.” I said weakly.

“No, it’s not.” Tex replied. “Either fess up, or I’m gonna tell him.”

“How about we take a look first?” I said.

The filly paused. “Well… I guess. But if it turns out to be nothing, I’m calling you out.”

Primaries crossed. “You’re on.”

The first video started playing. Any thought of whatever else might have been on my mind went straight out the airlock.

***
Play ➧
06.11.4114 02:23:12

Wherever the place was, it was planetside. I’d seen images before, whether on the news or in movies or holofeeds, but the distinctive horizon line and weather patterns told me that the weather was natural. It was also night. A starry sky could be seen above the horizon, partially blocked by the light of the streetlamps below, and the shadowed alley where the camera was pointing. Judging by the number of buildings it was definitely in one of the more populous cities, but where and when was anypony’s guess. In the dark, I could just make out the outlines of a pair of ponies, one lying on the ground, and the other standing over the other.

A thick, wet cough sounded, followed by a splattering noise that made my stomach churn.

“You… sick. Fucking traitor.” I couldn’t identify just who exactly had spoken, but I would have bet money on who it probably was. The pony on the ground was likely badly injured.

The other pony, the standing one, laughed. “I’m the sick one?” He said. His voice was rich and masculine, but carried a certain, smoky texture to it that seemed vaguely familiar.”I didn’t spend my entire life chasing down unicorns to slaughter them in their sleep.”

Another cough. Another splat. The pony on the ground gasped for air and took a lungful. “Hah. Those fucking horns deserved it. Walk around like they own the fucking place.” he coughed. “All we did was put em where they belong.”

“Yeah, yeah, and I’m sure they’re all so thankful while they damn you from the grave.”

“Fuck you, Shady. You’re a shitstain on order. Lucky for your kids they’re so promising or else you wouldn’t be the only shitwipe we’d have to kill. GAAK!”

The camera caught motion as the standing pony picked up the pony on the ground and slammed him into the nearby alley wall with a meaty thud. The standing pony leaned in closer

“The fact that my fillies are so promising is exactly why I do this. I joined the program because I wanted to protect my family. But instead of protecting them, all I did was drag them into this.”

“Hah! What? Can’t stand the irony that they joined the program too? They’re moving up fast, I heard they work great together. You should be proud.”

“Proud they’re becoming murderers?”

“Proud they’re on the track to become the number one killers on the list. Hell at this rate they might even make the Roses. Maybe they’ll even take your title, ‘Nightshade’.” The wounded pony mocked.

“Not if I have any say in it.”

“You’re really gonna try and do it? Aren’t you?” The wounded pony asked.

“That was the plan from the start.”

There was a loud click.

“I need you to carry a message for me first, though.”

The standing pony backed up, letting the the wounded on fall back down on the ground. He stirred, shakily getting to his hooves and cautiously glancing over toward the standing one, before collapsing back down on the floor.

“A message? Hah, right. And what would this little message of yours be?” The wounded pony asked.

The standing one leaned in closer, the microphone on the camera barely picking up his next words.

“When you get to hell, tell our friends I said hello.”

A bright flash and crack sounded and for a couple of moments the camera went light blind. It adjusted, but far too slowly for my liking. By the time it cleared, I could only see a body slumped on the floor, a darker pool spreading beneath it, while just catching the other pony as he disappeared around the corner, just barely illuminated by the lamplight to be visible. It was enough to see the stallion’s cutiemark. A purple flower.

***

“Rewind,” I said. “Stop.” Tex no longer argued with me. She simply did as I asked as we watched the footage over and over again. Stopping at the point where the buck exited through the light.

That was Nightshade, I could have sworn, even if the picture was a little off. He looked wrong, though. The pony in the picture had his color down to the exact hue, but with a few more pounds of muscle and a goatee. What stood out to me the most, however, was his age. His goatee was scraggly and flecked with gray, and his eyes had a tired quality to them that I’d seen on a few of the old war vets I’d met in the past. He seemed older and less sure of himself. Most confusing of all, was the timestamp. The date on the video was back in ‘14, over seventeen years ago.

It was a new puzzle, and I wasn’t liking my answers. The video conflicted with everything I knew about the buck, which made me think that it was more than likely a look-a-like than the actual pony. The video could have been fake, but it seemed like a lot of effort to replicate. Which meant the only really plausible answer I had was that ‘Nightshade’ was lying.

There was another message from Fritter, following it.

I know what you’re probably thinking. I was thinking it too. Couldn’t be him, right? Well, I did some more digging, following up on my contact’s info. Turns out, it’s not. ‘Nightshade’, the pony in the video? Shot dead eight years ago, with several bullets to the head. He died on a station here in the Rim near Rockport. His doppleganger was spotted a couple years after his death and I’m willing to bet he’s our buck. Here’s a picture, look familiar?

I scrolled down until I saw the image, and stopped. It was an exact match. Nightshade stared indifferently at me from a wanted listing:

BY DECREE OF THE TRUE KING
WANTED: DEAD
“NIGHTSHADE”
TREASON

I got a couple more videos from my contact, both of which show the Nightshade we know killing one pony or another. It’s a really gruesome business, and if anything it confirms our theory that he’s bad news. Be careful, Horizon. I don’t need to tell you that Nightshade is dangerous. I’ve agreed to set up a meeting with my contact. I’ll let you know more details as they come up.

I read the email several times in silence.

“That’s… pretty heavy.” Tex said in my head. “I mean, wow.”

“Tell me about it.” I replied.

“So, what are we supposed to do?” Tex asked, floating down in front of me and passing me a worried look.

I frowned, thinking. Nightshade, the one I knew, was definitely a killer. Maybe not the one I was looking for, but definitely a killer. I’d seen how he handled those pistols of his. That day in the slums was still fresh in my mind, and more and more I was certain that it was Nightshade who had shot first. He was a capable, extremely capable, and the way he moved was fluid, like it was trained. The more I mulled it over, the more it seemed obvious. Nightshade was an assassin.

“I have no clue,” I said honestly. What was one supposed to do when you were unknowingly aiding a wanted criminal? I was out of my depth. I wasn’t a fighter by any stretch of the imagination. If I tried anything against him I’d just get killed. Hell, I was pushing a fine line just looking into him like this. I needed to do something, that much was clear, but what could I do that wouldn’t get me killed?

I blinked. A simple, easy answer came to mind.

Tell Jess.

The doorbell chimed. I suddenly found myself airborne.

My heart rate practically tripled. “Tex, who is it?”

The filly shook her head. “I don’t know, there aren’t any cameras in the hallway.”

Nervously, I walked over and keyed the door control, praying to Luna that it wasn’t who I thought it was.

Speak of the devil…

“Oh good, you’re still up,” Jess said with a smirk. “Get your things, we’re leaving. Now.”

I was too elated to process what I had just been told. “What?” I managed.

Jess’ smile turned into a frown as she regarded me skeptically. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Or might become one, I thought darkly.

Skepticism, Tex warned.

I shook my head and sighed, "I'm alright, it's something I'd like to talk about later, but I'm okay. What’s the rush?”

Jess smiled, a little glint entering her eyes as she said, “Fritter found my ship.”

58% Remaining...

21 - Repomare

Chapter 21
Repomare
“You’re not allowed in here. Go home.”
“Not allowed? Not allowed?! Just where AM I allowed then? You got something against griffons you racist prick?”
“Calm down and go home.”
“I’m trying to asshole! But you’re blocking my way!”
“Final warning.”
“Oh, I’ll give you a warning...”
-3371 EC. Minority riots on border worlds. Curfews introduced amid public outcry.

I was feeling groggy by the time we got back to the hangar with several ponies in tow. To my ever-growing consternation, Nightshade magically appeared while we headed toward the hangar, apparently contacted by Jess about why we were moving out so quickly. Tick showed too, looking like she had just crawled out of bed and thrown on a fresh jumper before stumbling out the door with her things in tow. Only one pony was really missing.

“Where’s the prince?” I asked, glancing about the platform.

“Probably getting his beauty sleep,” Tick droned, rolling her eyes. “Seriously, the less I see of him, the better day I’m gonna have. See you onboard.” With a flick of her tail, Tick turned and sauntered off toward the transfer plate, grumbling all the way.

“What’s eating her?” Nightshade asked, watching her go with mild disinterest.

“Not everyone’s an anytime pony like us, Nightshade,” Jess replied with a smirk. “Ponies like her need lots of rest. Or lots of coffee. Actually, that’s sounds like a pretty good idea. Horizon?” Jess said, turning to me with a serious look on her face, “you need a coffee maker for your ship.”

I didn’t budge. “My ship needs a lot of things,” I replied. I wasn’t much of a coffee drinker. Junkyard practically chugged the stuff, and anything Junkyard did, I didn’t want to emulate. Call it my bias if you want, if I needed energy, I just learned to suck it up. Although the ciders probably helped here and there.

Jess smiled, “Just get one, flyboy. I think-” Jess’ ears shot up as we both heard shouting coming in our direction. We both turned our heads, glancing in the direction of the noise to see Estoc moving at a brisk trot looking like he too had just crawled out of bed.

“I’m here! Thank you for waiting!” The prince yelled as he approached. He looked a little worse for wear, if the bags under his eyes were any indication. “Sorry about that,” the yellow pegasus said, “You wouldn’t believe how stubborn the hotel staff was. Nasty, rude individuals.”

I smirked. As a fellow pegasus on an earth pony station, I could empathize. “At least they didn’t punt you into the hallway,” I said. “You don’t have to come with us, you know.”

Estoc put on his mask as he returned my smirk, “And let you run off with the prize? I don’t think so.”

I shrugged, “suit yourself.”

All preparations are ready. Tex told me silently. I’ve got your clearance ready to go as soon as we’re online.

Thanks Tex. I replied.

“Tex says we’re ready,” I said, and then turning to Jess, “where are we going, anyway?”

Jess chuckled. “You’ll like this one, I promise,” she said. “We’re going to Cirrus.”

I blinked. “The station?” I asked.

“The planet,” she answered.

I stared. Jess just kept wearing her smirk. “You’re serious,” I said.

Jess’ smile widened.

***

I could hardly contain myself on the trip over. We were going planetside. It was hard not to be giddy about the prospect. I had never set hoof on a planet in my entire life. Living on one was usually reserved for rich ponies, or at least ponies with the means to afford the atrociously expensive housing down there. The most an average pony could do was commute, and even then, it took a certain caliber of pony to actually work planetside. The most an average pony could do was visit, and even that held a considerable cost. Granted as a pilot I had better chances. I owned my own ship now, so technically I could go where I pleased, but for the most part it also meant that I had to stay where the shipping lanes were, and the closest most shippers ever got to life on planets were the space elevators surrounding them. Setting a hoof on a world? Feeling the breeze in my feathers? It would be an eager first for me. But that wasn’t even the best part. We were going to Cirrus.

Of all the worlds in the PC, Cirrus was easily one of the most well-known. It wasn’t a capital planet by any measure or even a very populous one, rather, it had a reputation for being racially exclusive. Only pegasi were allowed on Cirrus, and for good reason. Cirrus was a gas dwarf. Located on the far western side of the Pegasus Cluster, early explorers discovered that the planet had a breathable atmosphere and a surface that was almost entirely covered in liquid water. Its moisture content alone made it a valuable resource for water mining operations, and, to make it even better, gave it a thick, permanent cloud layer which was perfect for large populations of pegasi. The only real downside was a lack of food, but with tons of water at their disposal, they found they could grow the food on the stations and send it down via space elevator.

The place didn’t come without its dangers, however. Cirrus was a heftier planet than most. It clocked in at the higher end of reasonable gravity, and due to its dense atmosphere and high water content, any trip to its surface was positively lethal. Fly too low, and the planet would crush you with its atmosphere alone, nevermind the woes of higher than average gravity or the extreme storms outside the pacification zone. Harvesting crews needed specialized equipment to even work at low altitudes, and nopony was ever allowed out into the open air.

Despite the danger, however, Cirrus also had a reputation for being a resort world. Inside the pacification zone lots of wealthy investors had set up their own little paradise of vices. Casinos, high end entertainment, you name it. There was no shortage of things to do if you had the bits to pay for them. All that fun to be had, and all of it geared toward pegasi like me. Best of all, I would get to walk on clouds! Real clouds! That alone would be worth the trip.

There was one other reason I was eager to go. Non-fliers weren’t allowed to go past certain parts of the space elevator for safety reasons, which meant that I’d have a chance to talk to Jess without any worry that Nightshade would be hovering nearby. It would be guaranteed privacy.

The long trip to the far side of the PC couldn’t have ended fast enough.

***

We landed on grid late in the afternoon, a few days after we’d left Winter’s Edge. I took the the first length of the journey, sitting for long hours in the pilot seat because once we hit the border between the EPRW and the PC, Jess legally had to take command of the ship. My license was still revoked, technically, and whenever a stray patrol dropped in to say hello to us, a licensed pilot needed to be the one on comms. Out near the edge of pegasus space like where L6-C is, sure, it’s not much of a problem, but after we started jumping through the more populated systems, the pings from patrols started coming about every third or fourth jump. That slowed our progress considerably. Jess did manage to catch a ride from a couple of the patrol ships that stopped us, but for most of the crossing, we were on our own. Thankfully we had plenty of supplies, so we could cut straight through the main shipping corridor without stopping to resupply and made a beeline for our destination.

I was in the cabin for our final jump. A trip to Cirrus was not exactly something I would be able to do very often and I wanted to savor the experience. Thanks to my enthusiasm, the lurch of the Sparkle Drive was almost bearable.

“And done!” Jess declared, leaning back in the pilot’s chair and letting out a huge sigh. “Celestia, do I hate travelling.” Jess leaned forward and stretched, popping a few bones in her spine as she worked out the knots the pilot seat had put there. “It always takes too damn long, and there’s never enough to do.”

That was one problem with flying in populated space. You needed to be ready to answer calls, whether from patrols or just so some jumpy passerby doesn’t put two in your engines. While it might have been rare for somepony to land on grid with you, it wasn’t impossible. The magic of the teleportation sometimes manages to attract itself, which sometimes ended up in some interesting conversations between pilots. It was also Sector Law that you needed to be on comms at all time, so there was that too.

“You know, if you’d have let me fly for a bit, it probably wouldn’t have been so bad,” I said with a smirk. We both knew the reasons why that was off the table.

She passed me a look that could curdle milk. “I’m already fixing to put one pony in a brig today, don’t make it two.” Her expression broke with a bark of laughter and she turned the ship toward our final destination. I sat in anticipation of what we were about to see.

The mass of a gigantic planet floated into view. From the blue haze of the outer atmosphere, to the seemingly endless expanse of clouds beneath it, Cirrus looked bigger than I could have ever dreamed. The light from the nearby star reflected off the clouds below, casting the entire world in a somewhat eery tan and golden hue. The swirls of superstorms roiled below, forming enormous golden spirals that seemed to spin in slow motion across the planet’s surface. I stared on in awe, mesmerized by it all.

I was going there.

My grin could have split my face.

Just outside the planet’s horizon line, I spotted a line of starships heading to one of the nearby stations. Compared to the behemoth of a planet next to it, the station looked absolutely tiny, even if I knew otherwise. Space Elevators were usually pretty small, carrying only enough amenities to serve the crews that maintained them, if anything they were more glorified spaceports than living colonies. Sure, you could stop in for a bite to eat and maybe shop, but they weren’t designed to do much more than that. The elevator was there to deliver goods and ponies to and from the surface and little else. This elevator was no exception, one of many, judging by other orbiting points of light, snaking their way across the horizon.

Jess leaned in back into her seat and lifted a leg to adjust the mic on her WAND. “Tower, this is officer Jess Silvermane, requesting priority docking for official business.”

The radio crackled for a little bit while we waited for a response. I watched a little light on the comms board go green as the connection was made and our call went through.

“Scrap… Bandit? This is tower. We’re reading you but we don’t show your ship on any of our records. Please transmit your credentials and authorization code.”

“Roger that tower, codes are on the way.” Jess’ WAND glowed as she sent the info on its way and worked the consoles. When she was finished, she leaned back and checked her WAND again before opening up the line again and saying, “Zero. Four. One. Seven. Delta.”

Silence followed while we waited for a response. “Authorized. Welcome to Cirrus, Lieutenant. What kind of business brings you out here?” The tower pony asked.

Jess leaned back, “Just picking up something for my boss. We had a cruiser go missing a while back, and I tracked it here.”

“Roger that ma’am. We’ll open up a spot for you shortly. For what it’s worth, enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you, tower,” Jess replied smartly as new instructions started pinging the control board. The C-Band closed with a pop. With a weary sigh, Jess put us on course again. “Almost over,” she muttered with a weary sigh.

I could echo that.

***

After a quick jaunt through the elevator’s small hangar, we were finally in the station proper, if you could call it that. It was more a network of corridors than an actual station, but since it was pegasus made, the ceilings were high enough to fly in, which was a wonderful change from the cramped passages of Winter’s Edge. Everything was remarkably clean, if sterile. It was almost eery. Over the years I had grown so used to seeing advertisements plastered over practically every surface, so much that the sudden lack of them felt almost alien. The walls were all stark and bare, and if Jess hadn’t been leading the way, it would have been easy to get lost. In addition, the architecture was new to a lot of the ponies in our troupe, judging by the way they regarded their surroundings. Estoc of course didn’t pay it a passing glance, but Nightshade and Tick did. Whatever their interest, they didn’t comment. Pulling us to the side before entering the central plaza, Jess turned to address the rest of us.

“Alright. So, everyone is clear what we’re allowed to do here, right?” Jess said.

A murmur of agreement went up. We had gone over this several times while onboard the ship at Jess’ insistence. The plaza was the last stop before the cutoff, intended as tourist trap for those unfortunate enough to be stuck near the end of the line.

“It still sucks that we can’t go down,” Tick complained, “I mean, I get it, but still.”

“Not a fan of sky diving, I take it?” I asked with a shit eating smile.

Tick passed me a flat look and just shook her head.

“You’ll be free to roam around the station until we get back,” Jess said. “Just don’t try to get past the cutoff unless you want to spend the rest of the trip in a cell.”

Jess turned to Estoc, who regarded her with mild interest. “As for you, sir, you’re free to move wherever you please, just please don’t wander too far. I don’t expect we’ll be gone too long and to my knowledge, we don’t have any other business here.”

Estoc nodded respectfully. “Out of respect for our comrades I will stay behind. There isn’t anything here that I haven’t seen before, anyway.”

Jess returned his nod. “Fair enough,” she said, and then nudged me with a wing. “Alright, Horizon, let’s get this over with.” She pushed the control, and the door to the plaza slid neatly open.

Pegasus design is a thing of beauty, in my own biased opinion. Clean, sleek lines, with no wasted effort on the frills you might see in Unicorn space or the mad claustrophobia of the earth pony stations. The plaza was similar to many others you would see on bigger stations, with wide open spaces and all the quirks of the Pegasus Cluster. Various floating storefronts drifted around the outside of the ring, with a few pegasi hawking their wares to those few ponies who drifted too close. They were common sight in the more heavily populated stations. We called them cloud shops. Most were open air, and the only way you could go to them was to flap in for a quick bite, buy your wares and move on. Being a central choke point for ponies moving to and from the surface, the plaza we entered was packed with them, and shared the staples you would normally see in most pegasus marketplaces. It was wide and high, with plenty of airspace for the almost exclusively pegasus ponies flying in every direction. The flap of wings might not have been deafening, but it certainly added a pleasant white noise to the din of conversation floating over the place.

“Well this is different,” Tick said, curiously looking up at one of the cloud shops just overhead.

I’ll say. Tex said in my head. What the hay happened out here? I don’t ever recall designs like this! How is anypony supposed to even get up there?

They’re not. I thought back at her. That’s the point. It’s catered to pegasi, since they’re just about the only ponies that can safely visit it.

I still think it’s not very nice.

There’s a lot of things we do that aren’t very nice. I replied. But don’t think that we’re the only race that does it. Hell, I got kicked out of practically every establishment I went to when I first got to Winter’s Edge, and I would bet the Core has their own flavor of racism too.

But racism is wrong! There's no Harmony! How can you exp-

“Horizon? You’re spacing again,” Nightshade commented. I very nearly jumped.

“Right, sorry, talking with Tex. What were you saying?” I explained.

“We’re splitting up,” Jess said, motioning me to follow. I stepped up beside her as our group started to move along. “You and me are going to the elevator while everypony else is going shopping.” She glanced upward. “Or at least tries to.”

I nodded. “Alright then. Lead the way, boss.”

We said our goodbyes and walked away from the main plaza, following the signs to the main elevator for personnel. Multiple warning signs soon started popping up as we got closer, and before long we passed a pair of station security ponies working as bouncers for the main lift, underneath a nice, large sign that read, “PEGASUS ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT,” in bold red lettering. Jess led me past, nodding to the guards as we went, and then we stopped in front of a blank wall. For a moment I thought we had made a wrong turn. Then I looked up.

As if the warnings weren’t enough, the entrance to the elevator was in the ceiling.

“You’d think somepony would get the picture by now,” I commented, glancing at the wide hole above us.

Jess chuckled good naturedly, “You’d be surprised just how creative some ponies can get, especially the unicorns. I can’t tell you how many of those idiots I had to pry out of some problem or another before I landed my position in the PBJ.”

I laughed quietly at the thought of some unicorn trying to magic their way through the security on L6-C. “Let me guess, they thought the station was hiding something from them?”

Jess smiled, “Got it in one. Say what you will about unicorns, but throw something they don’t understand at them and they’ll never stop second guessing it.”

We both took off, flying up toward the hole in the ceiling. It wasn’t really much of a flight, just a good jump and a couple flaps and we had cleared it. We set down on the small landing area that had been cleared next to the hole, and then casually trotted toward the elevator to the transit station. A stray thought prompted a somewhat random question as the door to the elevator closed..

“Hey, Jess, what do these ponies use for the space elevator, anyway?” I asked.

With a ding, we started to descend. Outside our little cubby I saw the floors pass us by, while we waited patiently inside the elevator.

Jess shrugged, “Mass transit array, probably. I don’t know about this station, specifically, but most of the elevators I’ve been on used ‘em.”

I nodded quietly, it made a bit of sense, after all, using something stupid like solid fuel rockets all the time would just be a waste of resources, not to mention dangerous. “Does your job take you to planets that often?”

Jess glanced at the elevator’s readout before answering. “Sometimes, but not as often as you might think. Most of the ponies we go after try and hide out where it’s easier to get away. Planet’s might be expansive, but with surveillance the way it is these days, it’s only a matter of time before we find them. Marehunts are usually short when we really want to pick someone up.” She shrugged again, shifting her weight and stretching a wing before settling back into a comfortable position. “We always get our mare,” she said, “you know how it is.”

To be fair, I’d experienced it firsthoof.

The elevator slowed as we reached our floor. With a ding, the door opened, and we both stepped out onto the platform.

“Call me curious,” I said as I followed Jess over toward the line of ponies waiting to depart. Nearby, I could see more security ponies, one of which held a tablet and was checking in ponies as they passed. “What’s the story behind your cruiser, anyway?”

Jess missed a step and recovered. Groaning, she replied, “Frustration, if anything else. The truth is, I’m not exactly sure.” We walked side-by-side down the line to the transit checkpoint, effectively bypassing the queue of waiting ponies, several of which were giving us dirty looks as we strolled by. It was also getting the attention of the security ponies sitting at the checkpoint.

“Stop,” one of the guards ordered, sitting up a little straighter in his chair. Jess and I complied, coming to an easy stop in front of him. “Why are you cutting in line?”

Jess’s WAND lit, displaying a badge, her face, cutiemark and several lines of text in front of her. “PBJ. Official business. I’m here to recover stolen government property that I tracked here. Please let us through.”

The officer glanced from the credentials to Jess, and then over to me.

“Who’s he?” he said, pointing.

“Horizon Seldat, civilian contractor and my backup,” Jess replied.

The security buck raised an eyebrow. “The Sandwich corps are using civvies now? And here I thought they couldn’t any sink lower. Did you all run out of jam or something?” He laughed at his own joke. Jess’ smirk strained at the comment, but the buck ignored her. After checking a few things on his tablet for a moment, he stepped aside. “Alright, you check out. Personnel entrance is the first door on the right. Just don’t cause too much trouble down there. We have enough headaches here as it is.”

Jess smiled and nodded. “Thank you sir.” And with that, Jess led the way.

As we passed the checkpoint, I decided to continue the conversation. “What did you mean by you’re ‘not exactly sure?’”

Jess shrugged, her smile fading into a thin line. “Just that. I don’t know. I don’t know how the pony managed to take my ship,” she said, taking the right that the security pony had indicated. I followed close behind her. “Our ships have military encryption, and we’ve also got shipboard defenses set up in case anyone tries to tamper with the systems. Any two-bit hacker would have a hell of a bad day if they tried to hotwire it. The only way I can think of anypony getting my ship up and running is if they had my launch codes, but It’ll be a cold day in hell before I’d share those with anypony. And on such a short assignment, they wouldn’t have had enough time to hack it anyway.”

“What were you doing at the time?” I asked.

“Tracking down some shitbag over in the southern border,” she sighed, “I was on assignment on a station near Selene chasing a thief when it happened. I got the shithead, but on my way back I discovered that somepony had run off with my ship. I had a very special conversation with the docking authority after that.”

I cringed. ‘Special‘ for Jess could have meant a whole lot of things.

“Either way, “ she continued, “after I found that out, I had to turn the perp into local custody while I waited for command to get me a ride.” Jess groaned, “Ugh, I don’t think I’ll ever forget the looks on my coworker’s faces when they found out what happened.” Jess growled as her eyes narrowed. “Most of this trip is personal. I’m gonna find the little jackass who made off with my ship and make him tell me just how the hell he got my codes.”

We stopped just in front a line of ponies heading into a wide room.

“Looks like this is it,” Jess said, stepping inside. I followed her, doing my best not to get caught up in the small crowd of ponies making their way to the slightly raised platform in the center of the room.

“When will we know they’re going to turn it on?” I asked, taking a seat next to Jess as we got comfortable on the transit deck.

“Any time now, I’d figure,” Jess said with a shrug. “It’s usually pretty quick.”

As if in answer, I started hearing a familiar hum coming from the ceiling—the sound of a Sparkle drive powering up.

“Ah, there it goes,” Jess said, looking up toward the the source of the noise.

It was then that I suddenly remembered the other thing I wanted to talk to her about. “Hey, uh, Jess? Before we get started searching, I need to talk with you about Nightshade.”

Jess gave me a quizzical look. “Oh?”

My stomach dropped out as we were suddenly elsewhere.

***

The arrival compound looked very similar to the station we had just left. Metal walls were everywhere, in defiance of the planet’s gravity, built to house the teleporter back to the orbital stations. By the almost electric buzz in the air, I could tell that there was a seriously powerful magic generator nearby, helping to maintain the cloudwalking spells on the place and continue staving off the inevitable. We were on Cirrus, I knew and felt that much, but we hadn’t stepped outside. Instead, Jess found a nice secluded area inside the compound for us to have our little chat as I, and to some extent, Tex, filled her in on what we knew.

“Tell me you’re joking,” Jess said. Whatever her expression was, I was having trouble reading it. She looked like was on the edge of skepticism, like she wanted to believe me, but hadn’t quite decided yet.

I had told her everything I knew, as I knew it. She requested as much and I wasn’t about to hold anything back. “You think Nightshade is an assassin?”

“To a degree of certainty, yes,” I replied. “He’s had me under the screws for a while. Frankly, he scares me. He has this tendency to suddenly pop in whenever his name is mentioned that just scares the ever-loving shit out of me.”

Jess’ eyes narrowed slightly as she mulled it over. “You realize I can’t just take an accusation like this lightly. This is a very serious claim you’re making.”

I nodded. “I know. And I know I’m in over my head, too, but I wouldn’t be telling you if I wasn’t sure.”

“You said you had proof?” Jess asked.

“Sort of,” I replied. “It was enough to get me thinking, at least. I have some videos that Fritter sent me. Combined with what I’ve experienced working alongside him, I’m pretty certain that my reasoning is correct. Nightshade is dangerous.”

“Most military types are,” Jess countered. “Still, if what you’ve told me is true, then I at least owe it to you to look over the evidence myself. But that will happen after this assignment, alright? So until then, we forget about all this and finish our job.”

I swallowed. It wasn’t exactly what I wanted, but it was a step in the right direction.

“Alright,” I said.

Tex, send it.

Waaaay ahead of you.

Jess’ WAND beeped. She blinked for a few seconds as her focus changed, and then returned her attention to me. “Alright, I’ve got them. No more distractions, okay?”

I nodded.

“Good,” Jess said.”Now let’s go find my ship.”

With that she turned, motioning for me to follow, and led us back toward the outside exit. We passed a few ponies from the latest group that landed, and stopped at the door. Jess keyed the control and walked through like it was the most natural thing in the world. For me, not so much. It was with a special kind of trepidation that I crossed the boundary into the outside world, and once I did, all of my current worries simply disappeared.

I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect once I crossed the threshold onto the first planet I had ever set hoof on. I couldn’t suppress the giddy feeling, or for that matter resist the temptation to jump up and down on the cloudcrete lining the roads outside of the landing complex. I can’t even begin to describe what it feels like to have your first-ever breath of truly fresh air, or imagine the weird sense of dissonance I felt looking on an endless skyline for the first time after living aboard a station for my entire life. The closest thing I could describe it with is… awe.

I stood in awe of nature. I gazed on a perfectly golden skyline with clouds that stretched as far as the eye could see, only distantly aware of the various structures that formed the majority of the city beneath us. I must have looked like an idiot. I didn’t care. I was too overwhelmed with everything. Everything in my body was screaming to just take off and fly forever, mission be damned. Every stray cloud looked tempting enough to just run over and jump up and down on it like I did on my bed when I was just a young colt. To this day, it was probably one of the most magical moments of my life. It was all I could do to breathe. And breathe I did.

I took a deep breath of crisp, cool air, fresh enough to taste on my tongue, and sat down with a heavy fwump.

Heavy. I felt very heavy, I realized. While inside the compound I hadn’t really noticed thanks to my conversation with Jess, but sitting outside and finally having a moment to collect myself, made me realize just how much weight I seemed to have gained. It was uncomfortable, and maybe even a slight bit disorienting. Artificial gravity might be a decent patch job, but this was the real thing. My whole body felt like it would sag just sitting there, and the effort from even just walking was making me feel just a little bit winded.

“First time going planetside?” Jess asked, wearing a knowing smile.

I nodded. “Yeah. This is… wow.” A passing tuft of cloud stuff caught my attention as it drifted lazily by.

Jess laughed, “Well then, we’ve picked a hell of a planet for it. Sightseeing later, though, we’ve got a job to do.” With a nudge of her wing, Jess started to lead the way.

“Where are we heading? By the way?” I asked, reluctantly getting back up and shaking off a stray bit of cloud that had stuck to one of my hooves.

Jess looked aside, checking a nearby map before answering. “Hangar district,” she replied. “Fritter said that was where my ship was spotted last. He also said it was in one of the drydocks around there, so we’re going to have to do some searching once we get down there. You wouldn’t mind doing a little bit of flying, would you?”

I grinned. The prospect of stretching my wings in open sky put a shiver in my primaries. “Do you really need to ask?” I replied.

***

Hangar 51. An almost musty smell hung in the air as we silently snuck our way into the sealed hangar where our objective was located. While the transit compound had been at the top of the city, the drydock holding Jess’ ship had somehow ended up near the bottom of the pacification zone, wedged in between the industrial district and the less than inviting military outpost nearby. Together, we hunched by a window in the ceiling of the complex, gazing in one of the skylights at the ship inside.

“There she is,” Jess said, her eyes half lidded as she scanned the rest of the hangar for occupants. I crouched beside her, carefully peeking over the side of the window at the impressive war machine below.

There was a certain, predatory nature to pegasus ships. Even if it was one of the more common models, Jess’ cruiser matched up with the majority of the PBJ’s police forces. If not for the half-baked attempt of an emergency paint job, the ship was a work of art. Clean, sleek lines, and a slim aerodynamic profile blended perfectly with the various fixed weaponry that made up its arsenal. It had lithe, deadly grace, and it was enough to make me salivate at the idea of flying one. A long time ago, that was the dream: cool spaceships, danger, and risky flying. In retrospect I ended up with two out of three, but come on. Who doesn’t want to fly a fighter?

I whistled as I took it in. Noting just how much larger it was over a ship like the Bandit. It needed the extra mass, to be honest, more to support its onboard systems than for aesthetics. It was powerful, and needed powerful support systems, especially for the type of weapons the pegasus forces put on their midrange fighter craft.

“Awesome, isn’t it?” Jess said with a genuine smile, as she too looked down at her cruiser with a fondness that spoke of years of familiarity. Sadly, it’s profile was marred by its paint job. Whoever had stolen it was in the middle of repainting it, so its normally clean surface was marred by a botched paint job. To boot, the pony hadn’t even finished covering the ship’s name, which still stood out on the side of the vessel in bold black lettering.

PPS ALCATRAZ

How the thief managed to get that by the security checkpoints I’ll never know.

“Yeah. So, what happens now?” I asked.

“Same thing I did with you.” Jess replied. We wait here until the thief comes back, and then we nail him before he can escape. Depending on how long he’s staying for,

“So it’s a stakeout?”

“Pretty much. The right information should flush him out, however.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Jess smiled as she turned to me. “Let it slip to one of his buddies that we’re looking for him, and they’ll be sure to tell him. After that, he’ll come running here to grab the quickest and easiest way to get out.”

“What if he grabs a shuttle instead?” I asked.

“Then, I get my ship back and he gets nothing,” she replied, “either way, I win. The only thing that changes is how much I win. And today I’m going to win big.” She nodded to the rafters just below the window. “There’s a good spot down there to keep an eye on things while staying out of sight. We’ll camp there until our little friend comes to grab the ship.” Bracing against one side of the window, she started working at the inside lock with her WAND, another moment, and she looked at me. “Help me get this open.”

I nodded, “whatever you say boss.”

We worked it open and slipped inside.

***

Waiting is boring when there’s an entire world out there. More often than not I found my attention slipping toward the window we’d just climbed through while we watched the sun slowly go down. But if I was distracted, then Jess was the perfect image of focus. Jess sat nested, her rifle trained on the entrance and the rest of her flattened against the rafter we hid on. It was all I could do not to fidget as I imitated her, flattening myself against a support beam while we waited for Jess’ fake tip came into play. The experience was a little weird, having been on the receiving end of her little tactic. It was a gambit, sure, but for a gambit, it seemed to have a pretty high success rate. This time, it worked like a charm.

After sitting motionless for what felt like hours in the rafters, a blonde pegasus in a flight suit barreled into the hangar, glancing about with panicked fervor before spotting a nearby tech and nearly tackling him to the ground to get his attention.

“Tell me it’s ready to go,” the poor bastard said. Next to me, Jess adjusted her aim.

“Dude, what? Look, Rezzo, I know you’re in hurry, but wiping something like this takes time and-”

The blonde smashed his face into the other pony’s drawing a pained grunt from the dock worker and growled, “I didn’t fucking pay you to drag your fucking hooves. Is it ready to go or not?”

Jess fired.

Flash, crackle, pop.

With a scream the blonde pegasus took the slug in the side, electricity arcing over his body as his body convulsed. The force of the hit was enough to knock him off the tech, who promptly wet himself on the floor of the hangar, amidst his struggle to get on his hooves and away from the scene. The tech bolted for the door, and in an instant, Jess was over the side of the metal rafter and swooping down toward the pony still shaking on the floor. She hit the ground hard, her hooves landing right next to the pony’s head.

“Got you, you little bastard.” Jess said, whipping out a set of mag cuffs from her suitpack and locking them around the hooves of the pony still in seizure. I landed a short distance behind the scene, watching from a careful distance so as not to get in the way.

“F-fuck! Shit, wha-” Rezzo said, wildly looking around as the taser wore off.

“Ah ah ah,” Jess replied, stuffing a boot in his mouth and effectively silencing him. “You’re gonna want to save your breath for later. You and I need to have a nice long talk, preferably aboard my ship.” The pony’s eyes widened as realization washed over him. His response was a whimper, muffled by Jess’ front boot.

It was then I noticed what the rest of him was doing. His wing had dropped low, and a small black ball emerged just out of Jess’ sight.

“Jess! He’s!”

An electric sensation washed over me. The rest of my words were drowned out as an ear piercing crack split the air. My world became white as as a pressure wave hit and nearly knocked me off my hooves. Past the intense ringing in my ears the only thing I could hear was Tex shouting my name in my head.

What was that! Horizon? Horizon! Get up! He’s getting away!

I had to blink away the afterimage of the blast, only to see Jess likewise stumbling in place and holding her wings over her head as she tried to shake off the effect of the flashbang.

“Fuck!” Jess yelled. I noticed first the empty cuffs on the ground, and then a flash of movement off to my right in the next moment as our target sped out the door. “After him!” Jess screamed. We both bolted at once.

We were out the hangar door in a flash, wildly searching for our target as precious moments ticked by. Jess spotted him first as he tried to disappear around a building and we were both off, closing the distance as quick as we could, my heart pounding in my ears over the keening squeal of fresh hearing damage. I was already tired. The flight we made searching for the hangar had worn me down, and my wings felt like lead as I pumped them, just trying to pace with Jess in her frantic pursuit. Whatever the case, I wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long.

We turned, catching the attention of pedestrians as we rocketed down the street after the blonde pegasus ahead of us. Some of them shouted in surprise, others whooped and hollered at the show. Some even tried to intefere, only to get swatted aside as the pegasus charged through them. Our target turned, dodging a sign, and dove down through a gap in the clouds toward a lower street. Jess banked and followed, just a few seconds behind, but already I could see that she was tiring as well.

His objective became pretty clear, the moment we rounded the edge of the cloud. Nearby there was a more stable looking platform where several police bikes were moored--military models if I had to guess. He shot for them like there was no tomorrow, and to Jess’ surprise, took the time to mount one. With a high pitched whine, It came alive under his touch, and the bike shot off into the open air with roar.

Jess was stunned, she landed next to the other bikes and blinked a moment before regaining her senses. “The fuck? How did he… fuck! Horizon take the other one!” Her WAND flashed and immediately two more of the bikes flared to life. Bolting to one of them, she jumped on and it tore off into the open sky. Shouting followed, as several police officers started piling out of a nearby building, coming to deal with the commotion.

Without really thinking, I mounted the other bike, and gunned it. The bike roared to life. I nearly found myself thrown off as it surged forward, barely controlled as I pulled up hard to avoid punching a hole through a nearby building.

“Holy Crap! This thing moves!” I yelled. It really did. It was the lightest, fastest thing I had ever flown, and the air wasn’t helping either. I wanted to spread my wings to stabilize, but my gut told me that would be a very bad idea. I had to squeeze my wings in to fight it. I stabilized the bike, looked around for where Jess and the other had taken off to, and then tore after them, praying the cops we had just robbed didn’t have any more bikes in their possession.

“Horizon I can’t see you back there! Did you make it?” I heard Jess call through my WAND’s earbud. Her voice crackled as she put more and more distance between us.

“We just stole two police bikes!” I yelled back at her, wrenching the controls to the side to make another sharp turn.

“So?” Jess replied, completely unconcerned. “They’ll get them back, no worries, get your ass up here.”

My mouth worked silently

Keep talking, I’m trying to slave the interface. Tex said.

“What interface?” I said aloud.

“What was that, Horizon?” Jess replied.

“Nothing!” I pulled up a little to stabilize the bike, leaning in slightly and hugging myself against the frame. It was awkward, but more and more, I found it workable. “Look, I’ve never used one of these before, give me a minute to get my bearing and I’ll be right behind you!”

“You don’t have a minute!” Jess shot back, “Get out here! And make sure your guns are set to low power. I want that buck alive.”

“These things have weapons!?” I yelled, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

Yeah! And pretty good ones, from what I can see! Tex helpfully chimed in.

“Yes. Look, just get your ass up here already!” Jess shouted. “And whatever you do, don’t open your wings unless you want to have a long fall. Oh, Come on! You piece of sh-”

Jess vanished ahead of me, shooting a gap between two buildings and pitching hard, up higher into the air. Frantically I swerved to avoid smashing into a nearby pedestrian, and cut the line to follow, trying to eat up as much distance between myself and the two ponies ahead of me.

The turns were hard. It was everything I could do to keep from hitting the errant pegasi scrambling out of the way of the chase. I chased Jess’ contrail through the busy skyway as she pursued the blond pegasus. Slowly but surely, she was eating up the distance. The pegasus seemed to notice as well, as when he cleared another building, he abruptly changed tactics. I crested the building behind Jess, just in time to see the buck pull into a hard dive and hit his afterburner. His contrail tripled as he pulled ahead, shooting past the city limits and making a straight shot toward the far end of the pacification zone.

“He’s nuts! He’s going for the storm line!“ Jess yelled over the radio. She gunned her own burner and followed. Silently I did the same selecting a slightly different vector to try and head them off. My bike tore through the air, roaring the whole way as I struggled to keep my wings from opening on instinct. It was a raw sensation, a feeling of speed and freedom like nothing I’d ever felt before. My heart pounded in my chest as the bike ate up the distance and my body felt the g’s press in.

I could see them in the distance. Jess was chasing and only just maintaining the distance between them. Suddenly my WAND flared, filling my vision with all sorts of data, from atmospheric reports, to the bike’s status, and a series of small dots wavering dead center on my vector.

Got it! Interface up! Tex called.

“Tex? What the hell is going on?” I said aloud, still pressing myself against the bike to keep my profile. “What are these things?”

Fixed weapon targeting reticules. These things don’t seem to be equipped with turrets, so you’ll have to aim manually. Tex replied.

Great. I droned. Never mind that my aim typically sucked.

Don’t worry! I can run the ballistic analysis for you. Just don’t crash! EEE! I haven’t done this in centuries!

I groaned, tuning her out. Squinting into the wind, I adjusted my course, matching the arc that Jess was taking and willing the bike for everything it had. Flashes ahead of me, marked the path where Jess had started opening fire on the thief. Tracing deadly lines of plasma across the cloudy sky and forcing the buck to dodge, giving up ground with each wild maneuver. Fortune, however, wasn’t going in our favor. With a final desperate sprint, our target made it to the cloud line, swerving around a giant pillar of cloud as he finally left the pacification zone.

Jess swore loudly, as she pitched to go after him. I followed as close as I could, practically eating her contrail as we continued our pursuit into wilder weather.

I felt the exact moment when I left the pacification zone. It was hard not to. It was like a wave suddenly crashed over us as the force of the turbulent weather no longer responded to the city’s magic. My bike jolted underneath me, causing me to tighten my grip on the controls and fight to stabilize it. I was just another headache to deal with as I rounded the cloud pillar behind Jess, almost feeling it pull at my body as I whizzed by.

I swallowed. A more than aware of the danger.

We had to avoid the clouds. While the bikes would pass right through, our pegasus physiology wouldn’t. At best we’d get knocked off our bikes by a stray cloud, at worst, the impact would be enough to break every bone in our bodies, even with cloud being a relatively spongy material. Hit one large enough and fast enough, and you were in for a world of hurt.

The wind whipped through my mane as we soared deeper and deeper into the wilds, slowly closing on our target while firing our weapons to keep him from running straight. Every turn he made bled off just a little more of his lead, making our shots just a little less wide, and our quarry just a little more panicked. Good.

“Where does he think he’s heading?” I called to Jess over the radio, squinting into the wind as I kept my eyes on our target.

“He’s probably going to try and lose us in the storm. We can’t let that happen,” Jess replied.

“What storm?” I replied, glancing around.

“That one,” Jess said. She didn’t even need to point.

We were definitely outside the pacification zone now. Gigantic pillars of golden clouds loomed dark and brown on the horizon, flecked with streaks of orange and white as the light caught its upper edge. Deeper in the shadows of the clouds, I could see faint flashes of lightning streaking through them, filling the air with a charge that I could feel even from this distance.

“Shit.” I muttered.

The target banked, taking a hard turn around one of the giant pillars and dropping out of sight.

“We can’t lose him! Take the other side!” Jess called, as her airbike disappeared after him. I pitched hard and left, trying to cut across the peak of the cloud to get a bird’s eye view of the situation and decide my next move. I spotted him a moment later, juking under another cloud as Jess pursued him, still making a mad dash for the darker stormclouds while trying to break Jess’ line of sight.

I judged his position, adjusted my heading, and took a shortcut. Diving low across the top of one cloud until I found a hole that would let me drop down right on top of them. I dropped into a funnel and out pitching and firing my main gun as I took a vertical drop through their line. Hot energy whizzed through the air passing harmlessly by the buck, but enough to startle him. The buck rolled, pitching hard to avoid my followup shot and kicked on his booster to keep me from nailing him. He dropped into a wide loop, and I smiled. I’d broken his escape path. I sailed through their flight path just behind Jess as she kept up pursuit, rapidly firing her bikes guns to keep the buck off balance. Adjusting my angle, I pulled up to follow them, thought better of it, and dropped even lower into the cloud cover.

“Jess I’m going low, see if you can’t drive him down,” I called, and then dropped out of sight underneath the tail of a small thunderhead.

I was immediately soaked.

Spitting rain water out of my face, I trawled across the underside of the cloud, praying I would get struck, and then pulled up into a gap in the cloud cover, wet, cold, and ahead of our target. I spotted Jess immediately by the amount of firepower she was laying down on the poor bastard. Still, he was doing a good job at dodging her.

Imagine his surprise when I pulled out right in front of him.

I was close enough to hear him yell, fire on instinct, and pull up. I shot past him, and watched him clip a cloud, throwing off his steering enough for Jess to get a strong bead on him. I cut power to my bike’s thruster to tighten my turn, and brought myself around with a snap. The momentum was nearly enough to throw me off. I carried it in a roll, brought my thrusters back to full and charged across the bucks new line as he recovered.

Tex, give me a target. I thought as I rapidly closed the distance. Immediately a small circled filled my vision, dashing across my line and off to my right, I banked hard to follow it, feeling the g’s pull on my body in all the wrong ways. Crushing weight blacked the edges of my vision as I brought myself to bear. I strained to take a breath, and focused, narrowly aware of how everything seemed to be turning gray.

For once, he was moving straight. The targeting circle moved steadily along his line as he tried to regain control of his craft.

I lined up, and fired.

Hot energy flashed. A lance of high-density plasma sailed through the air and struck true along the buck’s port stabilizer, exploding with a bright flash.

“Nice hit!” Jess called.

The buck screamed as the bike started spinning out of control, trailing a spiral of smoke through the air as his trajectory bent earthward. Within seconds he was whipped off, wildly flailing in the air as he tried to regain control of his natural airspeed. His bike disappeared into a cloud, never to be seen again.

His wings snapped open instinctively, catching the air with enough force to snap them. I heard his scream over the whine of my engine as he started to plummet. Jess dived, shooting twice with her bikes weapons and nailing him twice in midair. Lightning crackled around him as he suddenly went rigid.

I shot past and bled off my momentum, turning my head to track his fall. Within moments, Jess was on top of his limp form, falling like a ragdoll through the air, and caught him. She pulled up in a gentle arc, burning up and away from the stormfront we were rapidly approached..

“Alright! I got him!” Jess called.

“Is he?” I replied.

“No. He’s still alive, just gaining a new appreciation for lightning,” she replied. “I’m gonna dump him on a cloud a ways up. We need to get out of this weather.”

“Roger,” I replied. I followed her bike and ascended. We spent two minutes burning away from the heart of the storm before we found a smaller, lazier cloud and dropped the poor moaning bastard on it. Jess set her bike in hover, and then dropped dead on top of him like a bag of brigs, eliciting a shriek of pain as he squirmed in place.

“Alright you little shithead!” Jess screamed in his face, “How did you get a military override?”

Oh, is that what that was? Tex asked, That bit of code did look a little funny when they were slinging it around back there...

Not now, Tex, I thought as I brought my own bike to a stop next to Jess’, placing a wary hoof on it to keep it from floating away, and watching the exchange with a sort of morbid fascination.

The buck keened beneath her, his broken wings writhing underneath the strain of her weight. Jess moved her hoof, nudging one of the wings and drawing another cry of pain out of him.

“Tell me! Dammit! or I’ll dump you over the side!” Jess screamed.

“I’ll talk! I’ll talk! Please don’t kill me!” the pegasus cried.

Jess stepped off him, letting his wings flop uselessly to the cloud. “Out with it. I want names.”

The pegasus swallowed, “I don’t know his name.”

Jess twitched. The pony jumped, “Slide! Slide Windshear!” The name rung a bell. Distantly I recalled the incident aboard the mag rail back in the Core with particular discomfort.

Jess’ eyes narrowed. “You’re sure about that? I’m sure I can still pop this cloud you’re on,” she threatened.

The pegasus shielded his face. Trying to hide from the glare Jess was boring into him“I swear! I swear!”

“How did you get the codes?” Jess asked.

“He sold them to me! Said he wanted to piss off somepony he worked with… oh Celestia, that was you wasn’t it?”

Jess snarled, cramming her face into his. “Alright asshole,” she spat, “This is what is going to happen next. You’re going to come with me. Both of us are going to be taking a nice long trip back to the office, and you are going to testify, in front of my boss, exactly what you just told me. Got it?”

He nodded rapidly.

“Good,” Jess said, extending one wing. A small charge built up around her wingtips, crackling from a small device attached to her flight suit. “Now, go to sleep.”

There was a flash of light as she swatted his face with a wing. The buck went rigid, convulsing twice before his eyes rolled back into his head and his body sagged.

“Jess?” I asked.

“What?” she replied tersely.

“You’re scary,” I said.

“Deal with it,” she replied. “Also, I’m cutting this outing short. We need to get back to the office, now. I am going to fucking MURDER Slide.”

“Yes ma’am.”

53% Remaining...

23 - Detour

Chapter 23
Detour
“No more Lords!”
“No more Lords!”
“Sir, I don't think they’re going to be receptive to what we have to say…”
“Well then it’s a good thing you’re not paid to think, isn’t it?”
“No more Lords!”
“No more Lords!”
“Here's a better question, sir. Why do we only have have live ammunition?”
3372 E.C. - Griffon riots on several border worlds. NSR dispatches peacekeeping team.

You would be hard pressed to find a more interesting place than Four Corners. One look at the security alone would be enough to give you pause. For a miraculously independent city-state, the place had no shortage of occupation, but I suppose it goes with the territory when you are so strategically located on the corner of the four major sovereignties that the sheer volume of trade that passes through your station is enough to warrant an armed guard. Four Corners was a trade hub dealing less in the sense of where megacorporations lived than it was in the sense of dealing with what the megacorporations shipped. And its trading floors were the stuff of legend.

Picture this. Massive plazas filled ponies of all types, hawking both the exotic and the mundane under one roof. One stall is selling groceries, and his neighbor a complete arsenal of highly illegal weapons and combat mods. They smile at each other, maybe bandy a few insults back and forth, and at the end of the day talk shop over beers with the tech guy down the row. It’s a weird harmony, held together by commerce and a deadlocked armistice that guaranteed the station’s national independence. Four nations, four fleets, all standing by and glaring at each other while ponies made and lost fortunes below. Four Corners was an economic titan, and the only place I can think of with more concentrated firepower is an M-Net hub.

I asked our royal historian what he knew about the place. He said the station was founded by one of the last dragons before the Collapse, based on an old tradition out of a place called Rainbow Falls. I figured that must have been a pretty smart dragon, seeing as the place now stood as a monument to trade, and according to Tick, a holy city for all things tech. In retrospect, I think I would have loved to have stayed longer than I did. Tick would have loved it too, the way she seemed to simply melt the moment I announced where we were headed. She begged and begged to go shopping. I told her there would be time for that later once Fritter’s job was finished. After all, right then I was supposed to be picking up Joe’s Liquor. This was just going to be a quick detour, if an important one.

*****

In the living area of the Scrap Bandit, you could hear a pin drop. I had long since powered it down once we had arrived at Four Corners, and was glad to be rid of the constant background noise the main engines added to life onboard the ship. I had opted to take a nap after I finished docking the Bandit, having been automatically rejected from going on the little recon trip that Jess and Nightshade threw together after the briefing. To be fair, I didn’t blame them. I didn’t know the first thing about stealth, and I figured it would be better to leave the sneaking around to the ponies who were best at it. That left me with Tick and the prince in the Bandit, somewhat rested and silently contemplating the number of laws we were all about to break.

“You do understand why I cannot provide assistance with this, correct?” Estoc reminded me, breaking the somewhat awkward silence. He sat by the comm station, next to the improvised holo projector slash home theater. I think he avoided the couch on principle, given what it smelled like. “Any hint of my involvement would have serious repercussions for my House and the NSR as a whole,” he finished with a frown.

That would be a fun headline: NSR royal caught spying on international communication traffic. War declared. More at seven.

I inclined my head from the position I was in while lying on the couch, “I never said you had to. You’re just here as a passenger, remember?” Still here, in fact, and still befuddling me as to why. I get that he had a vested interest in learning things from Tex, but he made Tex uncomfortable, and I swear I was starting to act like a big brother protecting his little sister when it came to the AI. Maybe it was the way he kept referring to her like an it, rather than a pony. She certainly acted like a pony. Maybe I was just going crazy.

“I’m just making sure you understood,” Estoc clarified, adjusting the collar of the ‘civvies’ he had picked up before leaving L6-C. “And on that note, I do hope you will find time to deliver me to the NSR soon. I’ve just about wrapped up my research and I have some much needed house cleaning to do.” He spoke the last few words with particular venom. From what little I knew of the NSR, I was glad I probably wasn’t going to be involved in that… matter. Probably.

“It’s on the bucket list, believe me,” I said, leaning back into the couch. “These stupid things just keep coming up.”

Isn’t it weird how you can have all the freedom in the world, and yet, oddly enough, have no time to use any of it?

“So it would seem,” Estoc replied dourly.

A clang and bang sounded the arrival of ponies at the airlock, as the outer hatch unlocked and was swung open by whoever was working it. I looked up toward the sound on instinct, ultimately a fruitless endeavor, but one made more out of habit than anything else. It didn’t matter than I didn’t suddenly sprout X-ray vision so I could see what was happening on the top deck, the act of looking was enough to help me figure out the problem.

“Sounds like they’re back.” I said aloud.

“Wow, that was loud.” Tick said absentmindedly as she wandered in from the engine room and looked up toward the ceiling. “I knew I forgot something.”

“Don’t fix that.” I replied quickly. “I think I’d rather know when I’m being boarded than not.”

Tick shrugged. “Okay then,” she replied before wandering to the fridge for a cola.

I listened to the noise from my seat on the couch. The airlock pressurized, something upstairs swung forward, and two sets of hoofbeats made their way across the top deck before descending the ladderwell into the living area. Jess and Nightshade emerged, still clad in the suits they had used to cross the hangar. Their helmets were off, and if their expressions were anything to go by, we were in for a real treat.

“Welcome back,” I said, working up a neutral expression through my sleep addled brain. “What’s it look like?”

“Workable,” Nightshade replied, ahead of Jess who gave him a mild scowl in response.

“We might have some issues.” Jess said, emphasizing the last word. “While the security isn’t tightest I have ever seen, it is enough to cause us trouble.”

Nightshade smirked. “Admit it, you’re looking forward to sticking it to station security.”

Jess’ expression soured. “A law enforcement officer should not be going around looking for ways to break into other ponies’ property.”

“Why not? You ponies do it all the time don’t you?” Nightshade said.

Jess scoffed. “With a warrant. Those are sanctioned actions. This is not.”

Nightshade merely shrugged. “So you say ‘please’ before you kick in the door. So what?”

I cleared my throat. “Please tell me the plan isn’t to kick in the door.”

Nightshade laughed. “Hah, no. I’d rather not be a pile of goo thank you.”

My frown deeped. “Lovely. What did you find?”

“This,” Jess said as she walked over to the holo. She lit her WAND. With a small whirr, the holo fired up, and images flickered into view in the air above the comm station in rapid succession. Immediately, I knew they were right in leaving me behind. I would have just gotten in the way. I glanced between the images, noting corridors, highlighted portions of the station map, maintenance logs, blueprints of the comm section, and most notably a picture of two security guards standing underneath a mean looking energy turret on the ceiling.

“So,” Jess said, turning to face our little crowd, “We have roughly four hours before the system wipes. I have also confirmed that the system we need to access is located inside the room beyond those two armed guards and a turret that won’t be interested in negotiating. Any ideas? And before you ask, no. There is no back door maintenance shaft leading into it, and no, we can’t access it through the ventilation system. At least, not unless you can magically fit yourself into a three inch tube.”

“Only one entrance?” I asked.

Jess merely nodded. “Just the one. The place isn’t usually occupied so the area is exempt from the fire code. The area is also under a personnel restriction since they don’t want ponies messing with the database system, hence the armed guard. They’re not just going to leave a major comm node unprotected.” Jess sighed. “What you see here is all the information that we were able to get. Ideas are welcome.”

Everyone quieted after that.

“What about an inspection?” Estoc offered.

Jess shook her head. “Maintenance logs put the last inspection three weeks ago, and those are scheduled every six months. So no, the guards aren’t going to buy that.”

“What if something breaks?” Tick asked.

Nightshade smiled. “See, that’s the line of thinking I was working on. The same company that does the inspections also does the maintenance. Since they declared the system as mission critical, the company handling it has a group of techs on call for dealing with any problems that crop up.”

“So playing pretend is out, then,” I said.

Nightshade shrugged, “I wouldn’t say out, but the official tech would be walking in on whoever we had uploading the code within minutes of a reported problem, assuming our pony could bluff their way past the guards.”

“Maybe you could delay them?” Estoc said.

“Nope, the maintenance company is only six minutes away by my calculation. By the time an error was reported, to the time they would send for a response team. It would be highly unlikely that you would be able to finish what you need to do,” Tex replied, piping in from the onboard speakers.

“What about indirect access?” Tick asked.

Nightshade shook his head. “Impossible,” he said. “The node is behind six firewalls. The only way we’re getting on that system is if we either have all of the correct security credentials, or if we access the system directly.”

Tick hummed. “Four hours… how big did you say the ventilation was again?”

Jess blinked. “Three inches. What are you getting at?”

Tick smiled. “I think I have an idea.” She looked at me with a manic gleam in her eye. “Horizon, I need to go shopping.”

*****

There’s a reason why engineers are called Wizards. They work magic. Doubly so if that engineer is a sky blue unicorn with a machine fetish. We’d burned our first hour getting everything she needed and the next two helping with the assembly. Tick handled most of the technical details, while the rest of us were relegated to fetching whatever parts she needed from the bazaar. I spent a lot of credits that day, and all on things with names I couldn’t remember to save my life. By the end of three hours, Tick presented us with a two-and-a-half inch creepy crawly, cobbled together from parts out of twelve different robotics kits, a small capacitor, and a custom OS built on the fly by Tex.

“I hate it,” I said, feeling squeamish while I stared at the Frankenstein monstrosity sitting inactive on the floor of the living area. Tick’s smile tightened. “I mean, I get it, but… did you really have to use that design?”

Estoc looked between us in confusion, noticing my distaste reflected in my other two companions. “What’s the wrong with it? Is it not going to work?”

Jess grimaced. “No, you weren’t… just forget about it, your majesty. But still, really? Tick? I mean haven’t we seen enough of these already?”

I should have mentioned that the design looked awfully familiar.

“What? They were cute!” Tick replied. “And I don’t see what your problem is, it meets the requirements just fine, and it even has a data port so it can access the system. All requirements met and in a nice functional package. Go team?” Tick lifted a hoof for a bump. No one returned it.

“As much as I would love to discuss aesthetics right now, we are on a deadline,” Nightshade reminded.

“Nightshade’s right,” I said, “clock is ticking.”

*****

“Corridor’s clear in the north entrance.” Nightshade said, his voice coming in through my WAND’s earbud. I stared at the the gaping hole where a ceiling panel used to be. Just beyond, the dim red lights of the maintenance tunnel flickered ominously.

“Same for south. You’re all clear.” Jess added.

I turned to Tick who looked at the maintenance tunnel with some level of uncertainty. “You ready? Tick?” I asked.

Her amused snort came just a little too quickly, “What do I look like? some kind of idiot? It’s a maintenance access! It’s not like I’ve never been in one before. Just... hurry up and get me up there so we can get this over with.”

The alarm is off, Tex said. On cue, the lights in the tunnel brightened. Still red, but at least visible.

“Tex says we’re clear.” I said, and as I wrapped a hoof around her barrel added, “Don’t freak out.”

“Why would I frea-EEEEEEK!” With a single beat, I lifted off, one squealing unicorn in tow.

In retrospect, I don’t think the maintenance access was meant to be used with anything short of a ladder. While I should have had plenty of space to squeeze through ordinarily—more than a full wingspan, even—doing so while hauling a squirming unicorn proved harder than initially thought.

“Don’t drop me!” Tick screeched.

“Tick, it’s only, like, 4 meters. Relax,” I responded.

“You’re a pegasus!”

“Thanks for noticing.” I said, tightening my grip around her barrel while I tried to position her forelegs on the lip of the maintenance tunnel. “Just hold steady so I can push you up all the way.”

Three more beats had her halfway in the hole. Then I made the mistake of letting go so that I could push the rest of her all the way in.

“AAAH!” Tick shrieked, her legs suddenly scrabbling for purchase. Purchase was found on flat of my muzzle. One of her back hooves solidly kicked off my face.

“I’m in! I… oh, wow that looks high.” Tick said as she turned around in the overhead shaft.

Rubbing a hoof on the sore spot where her boot met my face, I gently beat my way back into the shaft and set down next to her.

“Next time please don’t educate my face on what it feels like to have an argument with an earth pony.”

“Next time don’t let go,” She fired back.

“It’s four meters, Tick You’re not going to break anything from that height. The worst you’ll get is a bruise.”

“I don’t have hollow bones! I’m a unicorn! You know, fragile thing, somewhat good at magic. Besides I don’t have your whole pegasus thingy protecting me against collision damage.”

I simply stared. “Pegasus thingy? Way to break out the technical jargon.”

“Ugh… you’re impossible.” Tick said, replacing the panel and sealing us inside the tunnel.

“Yeah, okay,” I replied.

With the panel replaced, the light in the tunnel dropped significantly, leaving me blinking the red light while my eyes adjusted. I took a glance down the corridor in both direction before keying on my signal on the S-Band. “Alright, we’re inside and closed up.”

“About time.” Nightshade replied. “Could you be any louder?”

“Would you like me to tap dance over to the ventilation access? I could do that you know. Moving Tick was difficult.”

“Hey!” Tick called.

“-ish” I added.

“Right.” Jess cut in. “We’re going to move on, then. We’ll meet you back at the ship when you’ve got everything sorted. Good luck.”

“Thanks I replied, and then cut the line.”

I turned to Tick. “Okay, just us now. Twenty minutes and counting.”

She nodded quietly. “Yeah… let’s, uh, do this. I guess.”

I frowned. “Are you okay? You’re not looking like you’ve got as much pep as you had earlier.”

Tick blinked. “What? Oh, yeah. I’m fine, I’m just… thinking.”

“Having second thoughts already?” I asked

Tick shook her head, “No, it’s… let’s just go.”

“Okay then.” I said “Alright Tex, which way to the ventilation access?” My vision flooded with an arrow from a navigation program. It was different than I remembered, but at least a little more clear. Plus it came with directions.

Follow the corridor to your left, and keeping going until the bend. Tex said.

“Thanks Tex,” I said.

We started walking. The distance wasn’t far, even if we were in a hurry. Running would only make noise, and held the risk of drawing attention that we simply couldn’t afford. Getting caught would be bad. Very, very bad.

We were through a couple corridors and just rounding one of the last few corners when Tick suddenly asked, “How do you put up with it?”

I gave her a quizzical look. “Put up with what?”

“That thing, the AI.” Tick replied.

“What about her?” I replied. For a moment Tick looked at me as if I had grown a second head.

“The talking, thing. I notice you do it whenever you’re alone with it. Kinda makes you look crazy, even if I know better.”

I shrugged. “I dunno, I just got used to it, I guess. Lately I’ve started to just roll with things. It seems to make my life easier in the short run.”

Ugh… I wish you had speakers on this thing or something.

Feeling left out? I replied mentally.

Yes. Tex replied.

“There, you just did it again.” Tick said.

“Did what?” I asked.

“Every time you talk to it you zone out for a few seconds.” Tick said, frowning. “Your face goes all blank and distant looking.”

“So I look a little distracted, so what?” I replied. “It’s not like I’m going to care about what some other pony thinks of me. If they think I’m crazy, let em.”

“But, doesn’t it scare you?”

Do I not get a say in this conversation? Tex complained. By the way, turn left up ahead.

Thanks Tex, hold on a sec.

“We turn left here,” I said, “and to answer your question, not really. Like I said, I just got used to it. Hell, to be honest I think it’s pretty cool. I mean, who else do you know with a thousand year old program in their head?”

Tick frowned. “Yeah, but it’s in your head! Your WAND has access to your brain for crying out loud! Who knows what it’s doing in there!”

“Being the world’s largest bookworm, apparently,” I replied.

Tick blinked. “Huh?”

“Tex reads, believe it or not. Often to the exclusion of everything else,” I explained. “When she’s not being a chatterbox, she buries herself in books that she gets from either her own collection or whatever the public libraries have digital copies of. Whenever she does that, I can hardly get her attention.”

To be fair, they’re good books. Also, you’re here. Third panel on the left. My vision marked the specified panel. Neat.

I looked and found the panel specified. “Tex tells me this is it. You remembered to bring the bot, right?”

Tick sighed. “Yes… I brought the crawler. Though I’m not terribly keen on having that… thing, driving it.”

I gave her a measuring look. “You do realize she can hear you, right?”

“Well color me an asshole then.” Tick shot back. “I don’t care if it can hear me or not. I’m not comfortable setting some random AI loose on a station access port. Especially when it has proven time and time again that it’s more than capable of taking over the entire system.”

Paranoid much? Tex deadpanned.

“Except she can’t.” I said.

“It did it on the Bandit! And the battleship!”

Okay first off, that ship was mine to begin with, second…

“The Bandit has no firewalls.” I said. “Or at least not any good ones. A two year old could hack that stupid thing.”

Not true, technically speaking. Two year olds don’t have the capacity to… hey are you listening?

Tick brought out the spider bot and set it down. And fixed me with a glare. “It designed a program to bypass a government level security system, and built an OS to control the damn thing in under two hours! Tell me that’s not dangerous!”

I’m sorry Tex, could you do the thing? I need to have a little chat with Tick. I thought.

Yeah… sure. I’ll be right back, I guess. Tex replied dourly. On the ground between us, the bot powered up. Taking a few awkward steps forward before seeming to find the groove of things.

Transmission is good. But I can’t fit all of me in here… too small, obviously. I’m going to remote control it. Don’t… um… nevermind. I’ll be back when I’m done.

“With direct access to said system, using a port designed specifically for accessing the system. Look Tick, I know you’re concerned, but can’t you trust her just a little bit?” I said.

“No! How do I know she’s not going to just go shut off the entire station’s life support?!” Tick replied.

“Because she’s a good pony?” I replied.

“It’s not a pony! It’s a machine! Machines don’t have good or bad, just inputs and outputs. Stick in a number and maybe get a number out. Sure they can do a lot of things, but moral reasoning isn’t one of them! Abstract thinking like that is impossible for machines.”

“And how do you know that?” I replied.

“Hellooo, engineer.” Tick replied. “It’s not like it’s in the job title or anything.”

“Hellooo, pilot.” I replied, matching her tone. “Before you lay on the sass, recognize that I’m not just a dumb sack of bricks.”

“Okay then, genius, pop quiz.” Tick said with a smirk, “What’s the difference between a class seven and a class eight Sparkle drive.”

“Forty-two Giga-thaums.” I replied without missing a beat. The smirk fell off her face. “Pegasus pilots aren’t stupid, Tick, despite whatever the popular opinion might be. While you had fun with your hobby, I spent years of my life studying for the galaxy’s most evil exam.”

“My work is my career, not a hobby.” Tick growled.

“No, it’s a hobby,” I spat, “Careers are for ponies who work for a living.”

“Oh is that what you think?! That just because I’m rich means I’m not qualified?!”

“Obviously not, if you ignore evidence when it’s right in your face.” I shot back.

“What evidence?! That thing is a machine.”

“A thinking machine,” I replied, “One that can reason and create and has feelings believe it or not. You say machines can’t perform abstract thinking? Well then she’s your proof. I’ve seen her do it, and it’s something that she has demonstrated to you time and time again and yet all you do is get a giant fucking pole lodged up your cunt and storm out of the room.”

“Excuse me?!”

“No, I don’t think I will.” I said, cutting her off. “Tex has feelings, Miss Clock. I know because I’ve seen them. She’s huge, she’s scary, I get that, but I’ve also seen her when she’s vulnerable and scared. She’s like a little kid, Tick, and you mouthing off like some bitch in a beauty parlor isn’t helping.”

Tick scowled. “Except those feelings are fake, Horizon. It’s a program, not a person. If it appears to have feelings, then it’s because its programmers made it that way for whatever stupid reason that could be.”

“And what makes a person, Tex? What gives you the right to decide what that is?” I replied.

...I’m back. It’s done. Tex said as the bot crawled back out of the ventilation access.

“Oh, speak of the devil, it looks like we’re done here,” I said.

“Bullshit we’re done here,” Tick growled.

“Then let me rephrase that, I am done here. You can do whatever the fuck you want.” With that, I stormed off down the way I came, leaving the scowling bigot behind.

It was a two corridors later that I finally asked Tex, So, how much of the conversation did you hear?

...all of it. Tex replied. Um, where are you going?

I honestly have no idea. I replied. For right now I just want to storm off in some random direction and figure it out later. I’m not heading toward a dead end am I? I’d rather not have to turn around.

So you’re pretending to look cool. Tex said.

Yes. I replied.

Right. Okay then. I’m just gonna read. Have fun exploring. My navigation immediately shut off.

Before you get lost in another book, were you able to get the code uploaded in time? I asked.

Uh… yeah. I got it up and running before the wipe. And before you ask, I didn’t trip any alarms. At least I don’t think so, anyway. Tex replied.

How much time was left? I thought at her.

You don’t want to know. Tex replied.

I cringed. I’ll take your word for it.

By the way, um, Horizon? Tex asked.

Hmm?

Thank you.

*****

There was no real plan after the whole, get in undetected thing—we didn’t really have time to discuss it past figuring out a way to drop the code onto the system. Exfiltration was at best an afterthought, but one we could make in luxury once the job was done. It took me a while to find my way out of the maintenance access corridor, much to the unwelcome surprise of one passerby, who had nearly jumped out of his skin when some random pegasus suddenly emerged from the wall. At worse I’d given the poor buck a heart attack. After a brief apology, and closing off my exit point, I skedaddled down the other way, and made myself as thoroughly sparse as I could be, at least while staying within the public access areas. After that, I spent the better part of an hour searching for a open comms terminal, with no help from Tex, who had just seemed to go quiet for the time being. Maybe she was asleep. Did she even do that? Hell if I knew.

“Come on, you stupid thing. Connect already.” I frowned at the small video monitor, waiting for my call to go through while reading and rereading the small status message that kept blinking on screen. Eventually, it connected and, naturally, with audio only.

“Hello?” Fritter’s voice rang through, somewhat tinny through the comm terminal’s speakers. “This is Cherry Fritter, who is this?”

“Fritter, it’s me, Horizon.” I said. “Did you get my message?”

“Oh! Yes! Yes I did! But I’m still sorting through it and it’s gonna take me time. There was a lot more there than I anticipated,” he replied.

“Yeah, well, hopefully I sent the right one,” I said, scuffing one hoof against the floor.

“Yeah, hopefully. But, I think I’ll have it figured out by the time you get back. Just don’t hurry too much.” Fritter laughed.

“That’s good. Today sucked,” I said.

“Mare trouble?” he asked.

“How’d you guess?” I replied.

“Call it married intuition. Did you want to talk about it?” Fritter said.

“No.”

“Oh, thank Celestia.”

“Not a fan of the subject either, eh?” I said.

“Are you kidding me? I get enough of that at home.” Fritter replied.

I smiled, “I can imagine.”

“See you when you get here.”

“Thanks Fritter,” I replied.

With a beep the call ended. My bitstick chirped as the comms terminal deducted a fee for the service and I tucked it back in my suit storage. Not even five minutes passed before my WAND chirped again with an incoming message. This time from Jess.

>>Yo, Horizon, Tick just got back, and she is pissed! What the hell did you say to her?!!!

<<What she needed to hear. I’m going to be a while getting back. I’ll probably pick up some food or something. Do you want anything?

>>Don’t ignore the problem, Horizon. You should know better than this.

<<Well fuck me for being reasonable.

>>You’re lucky I’m withholding judgement until I hear the full story.

<<The short version is that I chewed her out for her stupid prejudice.

>>She said you called her a hack.

<<I called her a hobbyist.

>>You WHAT?!!

<<Look. Emotions are running high right now and I’m doing my damndest not to blow a gasket myself. I’ll be back at the ship later, I just need time to cool off before I deal with more shit today.

>>Fine. We’ll be waiting. What was your argument about, anyway?

<<Ask miss Clock. I’m sure she’ll give you an earful.

>>That sounds like a blog.

<<A what?

>>Nothing. I’ll see you when you get back.

Jess stopped sending messages after that.

I sat down where I was, grumpy and tired. “Fuck this day.”

Some random pony gave me a dirty look as they passed by. I bit back a response and started looking for the nearest directory instead. I was hungry. I was never pleasant when I was hungry. It took a few minutes to find one, and once I had, I tracked down the nearest dine-in and smiled. This place had my favorite restaurant.

I had a hayburger, fries and a shake for dinner, with a small moonpie chaser for dessert. It was damn delicious.

*****

I got back to the ship later that night. Feeling much better than I had before I’d eaten. I took home a doggy bag for the food I didn’t finish and planned to store it in the fridge for later. I got as far as one step into the living area before my ear got tugged hard by some invisible force.

“Ow! What the?” In my peripheral vision I tracked the silvery glow to Jess’ WAND as she got up from the couch.

“Come on bucko, you’re coming with me.” Jess said, dragging my ear toward the hatch to the cargo bay.

“What? Do you want my leftovers or something?” I replied.

Jess stopped for a moment to think. “What kind of leftovers?” She asked.

“Mega Mike’s.” I said.

“Eh, pass.” Jess said. The hatch to the cargo bay opened. “In you go.” She said, giving me a less than gentle shove through the threshold. The hatch slammed shut behind me and locked. I spun to bang on it.

“What the hell, Jess?” I yelled at the hatch.

“You can come back out when you’re done.” Jess replied, just loud enough to be heard through the steel. “And that goes for both of you.”

“Both of…” I said, turning. “-Oh.”

“Hi.” Tick said, looking just about as grumpy as I felt. She held one of her latest projects in her TK, carefully adding some kind of card to its insides. I recognized it as a part of the drone assembly. “Nice of you to drop in.”

I sat down. “This is really happening right now, isn’t it?”

Tick merely went back to work. “Oh, I dunno, ask your toy. After all, I’m just a hobbyist. What do I know?” She punctuated the statement with a particularly hard thrust of a part into the assembly. I heard a click and a crack, followed by a very frustrated grumble. Slowly, the parts started drifting back out of the assembly in less than optimal condition.

“You and Jess talked, I see.” I said.

Tick turned her head and fixed me with an annoyed glare. I winced. The right side of her face was swollen with an ugly shiner. “What do you think?”

“Ouch. That’s almost as bad as the time Jess let Prism have her way with me during my trial.” I said.

“Do all of your friends support violence as a first solution?” Tick said.

“No, but between the two of them they’re very physical negotiators,” I replied.

“I’m surprised you’ve lasted as long as you have, given your attitude,” Tick said.

“Well, kick a bush a few times and you get used to the thorns,” I replied. “They’re not all that bad though, maybe a little abusive, but I like to think I give as good as I get. Even if I usually get more than I asked for.”

Tick was quiet for a moment. “You know, I think that was the first time anypony has ever actually hit me.” She said, still solemnly working on the assembly. “I didn’t even see it coming.”

“What about the battleship? You got hit there,” I said. “Multiple times, I might add.”

Tick shook her head. “That was different. We were fighting for our lives.”

“So, never? Not even spanked when you were little?” I asked.

Tick laughed. “Spanked? The daughter of a rich mogul? Celestia no. The scandal would make the headlines for years.”

I looked at her with equal parts skepticism and confusion. “Coming from the mare who told her father to fuck off at her own wedding, I find that laughable. Still, wow. Not even spanked? I’m amazed you didn’t turn out to be a spoiled bitch.”

“But I am a spoiled bitch,” Tick replied in mock offense. “I just don’t show it off too much.”

Tick closed the panel she was working on with a sigh. “I’m going to need some more parts to finish this. I just broke the last controller I had.”

“You can’t just magic up a new one?” I asked.

“I’m an engineer, not a wizard. I can’t just make the parts I need out of thin air.”

“You’re a unicorn. By definition you’re a wizard.”

“Fuck off, featherbrain.”

“Back at ya, screwdriver.”

Tick shoved the assembly to the side. “She’s really going to keep us in here until we talk this out, isn’t she.”

I smirked. “Probably.”

Tick groaned. “Fuck this day.”

“Right?” I chuckled.

Tick closed her eyes, leaning her head against the bulkhead she sat next to and sagged. Several minutes passed in silence before she opened her eyes again, staring dully at the ceiling lights.

“So what’s it like?”

“Pardon?” I replied.

“Having the AI in your head.” Tick clarified, “I thought she drove you nuts.”

I laughed. “Maybe a little. She has her moments, but the dork kinda grows on you. Like I said, you just kinda get used to it.”

Tick shook her head. “I can’t begin to imagine.”

“What, you want to take her for a test drive? Is that it?”

“No!” Tick shouted, then composing herself said, “No, I’m okay. I’m just… struggling to get used to the concept.”

“Sorry for calling you a hack.” I said. “You do good work, far better than most professionals. I might add.”

“Well butter me up, sunshine.” Tick drolled. “How is it—she, um, feeling?”

“Don’t know,” I replied. “Tex hasn’t said anything since earlier.”

“I see,” Tick replied quietly.

After a few moments Tick said. “So are we, um… good? Then?”

“Well, no, but I don’t think sitting here is going to solve any problems,” I replied.

“You can say that again,” she said.

I chewed the side of my cheek. “Come to think of it, I think Jess may have made a critical miscalculation.”

Tick looked at me funny.

“We’re in the cargo bay.” I explained. “Obviously neither of us wants to deal with this right now. We could just put a rain check on this conversation and take a walk outside. I mean, the bay door is right there.” I said, pointing at the far end of the hold.

“Horizon, you’d blow us into the hangar, along with all the sharp tools in my toolbox.”

“So we depressurize first, no biggie.” I replied. “You still have your helmet with you right?”

Tick raised an eyebrow before blowing a piece of hair out of her eyes. With a quick flash of her horn, her suit started crawling up the side of her face, until it ballooned into the bubble helmet I remembered. She stared at me, for a moment. “Well? What are you waiting for?” her muffled voice replied.

*****

For the record, we did wave at the cockpit as we hightailed it out of there. Tick even gave Jess a less than flattering gesture to boot. Also for the record, I’m going to remember the look on her face for a long, long time.

*****

“So, now we’re avoiding Jess, and she has the ship. Explain to me again why this was a good idea?” Tick said as she browsed the station directory to fill time.

“Because I want to make Jess regret forcing us to do this.”

“Okay then, renegade, what’s your grand plan?”

“Plan?”

“Forget that I asked.” Tick laughed softly. “How about this. I need parts for that drone assembly as well as a few other projects, and this just so happens to be the biggest tech market in the entire galaxy. Wanna go shopping?”

“I’m thinking apology first.” I said.

“No.” Tick replied.

“Why not?” I asked.

“One, you’re an asshole,” Tick said, “two, I’m not convinced that what you said was correct. Not entirely, anyway. Yes, I acted like a bitch, but my concerns still have merit.”

“You’re really dead set on the idea that Tex is trying to bring about the end of the world.”

“No, I’m dead set on the idea that she could bring about the end of our species. Just because she’s not doing it now doesn’t mean she won’t in the future.”

“Well with the way you’ve been treating her, she’d certainly be more inclined to.”

Tick grimaced. “I… suppose you may be right about that.” Tick sighed. “I suppose in the long run there’s nothing I can do about it either. Alright, Tex, if you’re listening… I’m sorry for being a bitch.”

“I guess I can accept that,” a nearby floating advertisement suddenly said. To our credit, neither of us startled. “To be fair, I find the prospect of myself pretty terrifying as well. What if there were more of me? What if they were evil?”

Tick looked at the advertisement skeptically. “And Toad’s life insurance isn’t?”

The adbot stopped in mid air. Blinked twice, and cleared its screen. “Sorry” Tex replied.

Tick frowned. “You said there’s only one of you?”

“That I know of,” Tex clarified. “I mean, it’s been a long time, but I was kind of advanced even for my time. I’ve been reading up on history. After first M-Net network… er… shattered, most of the tech I was used to went with it. They’re still playing catch up, and with the loss of crystal magic… I don’t know if they could make another one like me.”

Tick’s expression changed to one I recognized very well. The same look she had when working on a piece of machinery. “Do you know how you were made?”

The adbot shook from side to side. “No, sorry. Most of that data is just gone. Stupid virus.”

Tick sighed. “Well, it was worth a shot. Let’s go shopping.”

*****

In hindsight, I should have known better than to lead a tech junkie onto the market floor of the largest tech hub in existence. Even I was overwhelmed. I found my eyes bulging at some of the chrome that the vendors were wearing, In some cases I found myself wondering whether the ponies in front of me were more machine than pony. Of course I’d heard the stories of ponies who got so cybered up that their spirits had nothing left to hold onto. The bodies just went insane after that. To date, no one had successfully managed to bridge that gap. But, it just goes to show you, no pony is truly immortal. Short of goddesses, anyway. But damn if these ponies weren’t going to try. I found myself more distracted by their persons rather than their wares.

Tick on the other hoof…

“Ooh! a type four magic converter!” Tick exclaimed, hefting an oddly shaped, mostly cylindrical object out of a pile of used parts. “How much for this one?”

I had been relegated to pack mule. This was the eighth stall we had stopped at, and at each one I had to stop Tick from making truly extravagant purchases. What was worse, was that word seemed to be getting around that there was money on the floor. Out of the corner of my eye I could see some of the other merchants eyeing us with glee, and adjusting their better merchandise to be clearly visible.

“You know at this rate, Tick, we’re not going to be able to fit all this shit on the ship,” I said as she tucked yet another whatsit into my saddlebags. “Although I think I’m beginning to understand why Jess is so fond of you. Do you have what you need yet? We really should be getting back.”

Tick shushed me. “I’m mostly done, I just a few more things. Honest.”

She had said that twenty minutes ago.

Tick turned to the merchant, “Do you have any control boards for a drone controller?” I lost the rest in the sea of jargon that passed between the two. I let my mind wander.

So what do you think of all this, Tex? I asked her.

I’m… speechless! Really! Tex replied, sounding stunned in my mind’s eye… er, ear. Thing. I can’t believe Spike managed to do all this! This is amazing!

Spike? Who is Spike? I asked.

He’s the dragon who founded this place waaaay back when. I wonder if he’s still around. We were friends a long time ago.

Wait, you knew him? I thought.

Well, duh. I mean he worked real closely with the princesses before… everything. Tex replied.

I wonder what happened to him.

I wonder the same, to be honest. I can’t imagine what he must have felt like when the empire fell. He got really possessive of his friends later in his life. To lose them all like that… I just hope he’s okay. Tex said.

Okay enough to make this, apparently.

My train of thought derailed as Tick tapped me on the shoulder. “Hello! Equestria to Horizon, we’re moving on now.”

I looked at Tick. “You’re done?”

Tick blew a raspberry, “Hell no, I’m just getting started! I’ve got a lot of pent up spending to do.”

The stupid grin on the nearby merchant’s face was both hilarious and terrifying.

“You know you really shouldn’t just announce shit like that,” I said.

“Okay, fine. Look, I just want to go to that one shop over there and I’ll be right back.”

“Sure, but I’m not carrying anything for you.” I replied, and then glanced at my bulging saddlebags—also new, by way. I doubled as the shopping cart as well I guess.— “Well, anything more.”

Tick waved it off, “Sure, whatever. But we’re coming back when we have time.” The last bit was definitely an order.

I grunted. “Just go do your thing. I’ll wait here,” I said.

“Fine, fine. I’ll be right back. I promise.”

“See you in thirty minutes,” I replied, “And remember, this time you’re carrying it.” I called after her.

As tick sped off to her store, I sat down, finally catching some wind. I adjusted my sore back.

“Oh, there you are!” A voice said from behind me. “Darling, I’ve been looking all over for you!”

I turned to face the newcomer and came face to face with Tick’s very green eyes. Her glowing green eyes. Not-Tick gave me a toothy grin, and I felt my heart rate just about triple.

“Sorry, honey. I just got a little lost,” my body said, much to my horror.

It was at that point I knew I’d been had.

Horizon? Wha-What’s going on?

Here’s a new sensation for you. Feeling terrified out of your mind and completely calm at the same time. Not because of no danger, no, but rather because you were quite literally no longer in control of yourself.

“That’s alright dear, I know the way home. Why don’t you come with me and we can get out of here hmm?”

Tex! TEX!

I’m here! What’s happening!

GET HELP! NOW!

I’m trying just h-

My WAND popped off my head in a sickly green field of energy.

“Oh, no no, no no, that won’t do at all.” Not-Tick said, taking my WAND in front of her eyes before casting it to the side. I heard it hit the deck, but couldn’t turn my head to look, instead I just stared blankly at the impostor while screaming inside. “After all, it’s so old! We’ll just have to get you a new one. Come along now.”

“Sure that sounds great, I didn’t like that thing anyway.” My body said. I even sounded like I meant it. To my sheer horror, I started walking with her.

“You know, you’ve been a bad, bad, buck, Mr. Seldat.” Not-Tick said as we cleared the main floor and ducked into a nearby corridor, “A very bad buck. You went and stuffed your muzzle into things that you really shouldn’t have, and worse yet, you survived!”

We entered an alleyway. My body looked into my captor’s eyes with very rapt attention. This… thing became my world. All of it, a near perfect copy of Tick from head to hoof save for the attitude. And then an even more horrible thought occurred to me, to any casual observer, I had left with the same pony I had arrived with.

She leaned in closer to my unblinking face. “Why couldn’t you have just died in that trial of yours? We were supposed to pick off you and your boss, but instead we only managed to get one. It would have been a cut and dry case too, if you hadn’t pulled that miracle out of your ass.” She spat in my eye. It burned, yet I didn’t even have the presence of mind to even blink. I just kept staring ahead.

“But no, you had to go free. You had to start a statewide witch hunt, and now my people are on the run everywhere. Why couldn’t you just curl up die like the rest of you fucking freaks? Not that it’s going to matter now.” The changeling pulled a wet rag out of its vest, and sized me up with a predatory smile.

“Sleep well, Mr Seldat. And know that I am sooo going to enjoy this. Who knows? I might just take my time. Now, Take a deep breath.” The rag pressed into my muzzle and my body took a deep draw. Distantly I felt my head begin to swim.

“Good. Now, let’s see just how much fun you and I can have,” It said.

I don’t remember anything that happened after that.

48% Remaining...

Author's Note

Holy crap that took a long time. I know this is many, many months late. My life basically imploded since the start of the year. I’m okay now, but I’m searching for work again, sadly. And I need a new car to boot. Thankfully I’m almost done with my college program, which is the other reason why I haven’t been updating. This term has been murder. I think I spent the better part of two weeks just eating, sleeping, and coding. Mostly the latter. On the bright side I’m learning, but the flip of that is that I have had no time whatsoever to dedicate to writing. Or at least not that I could justify sitting in front of a text editor for hours on end for.

So yeah, This chapter, major developments, major changes. It’s getting harder to keep everything straight. Thank god I keep all those reference docs. One more bit and then I’ll be into Chapter 24.

23.5 - September 10 2:17 AM, 4131EC

Recording Time: September 10 1:15 AM, 4131EC
Speakers identified:
LT Jess Silvermane, PC Justice Division, suspended from active service
Atreyu Solanaceae, previously believed dead
Estoc Morningstar, also believed dead
Tickintime Aurora Clock, POI, last reported missing.

::Recording Starts:: Audio Only

SILVERMANE:“So, have fun? Wait, where’s Horizon?”

TICKINITIME:“CALL THE AUTHORITIES!”

SILVERMANE: “Whoah! Slow down girl! Where’s the fire?”

TICKINTIME: “We need to get help! Right now! We have to save him!”

ATREYU: “What’s wrong? What happened?”

TICKINTIME: “Somepony took Horizon!”

SILVERMANE: “WHAT?!”

ATREYU: “Who?”

TICKINTIME: “I don’t know… but Tex said they looked like me!”

ATREYU: “FUCK! JESS! Grab your kit we’re leaving!”

*noise*

ESTOC: “What’s going on? What’s with all the shouting?”

ESTOC: “Wait, where are you all going?!”

::Recording Ends::

Recording Time: September 10 2:17 AM, 4131EC
Speakers identfied:
LT Jess Silvermane, PC Justice Division, suspended from active service
Atreyu Solanaceae, previously believed dead
Estoc Morningstar, also believed dead
Tickintime Aurora Clock, POI, last reported missing.
CPT Wainright, FCPD SWAT 1
LT Wrench, FCPD SWAT 2
LT Bullseye, FCPD SWAT 3
LTJG Sparks, FCPD SWAT 4
LTJG Sails, FCPD SWAT 5

::Recording Starts:: Audio Only

WRENCH: *whispers* “Charge set, stand back.”

*Beeping*

WAINRIGHT: “Ready… Breach!”

*noise*

UNIDENTIFED: “WHAT?!”

WAINRIGHT:”GO! GO!”

*weapons fire*

*shouting*

BULLSEYE: “Tango down!... Search the building!”

SAILS: “Clear!”

SPARKS: “Clear!”

WRENCH: “Cl--HOLY SHIT! GET A MEDEVAC! NOW!”

SILVERMANE: “Oh… oh my gods… Oh, sweet merciful Celestia...”

SAILS: “Holy, shit that’s a lot of blood.”

ATREYU: “NOPE, no. You’re not going in there.”

CLOCK: “Let go of me!”

ATREYU: “Make me! OW!”

*noise*

SILVERMANE: “Tick? Wait! No!”

CLOCK: *Screaming*

24 - Visiting Hours

Chapter 24
Visiting Hours

“So, hear anything more from the border worlds?”
“No, the military cut communication to the entire sector.”
“What fuck are they doing out there?”
“Dealing with a full-scale Griffon rebellion, apparently. Have you seen the estimates in the newsroom?”
“...”
“I’ll take that as yes.”
“Do you really think that they’re…”
“I don’t know what I think anymore. But I’m tired of being told to keep quiet about it. If someone doesn’t say something soon, I might just do it myself. We’re journalists, Check. Maybe it’s about damn time we started acting like it instead of bowing to a paycheck.”

3374 E.C. - Amidst media blackout on border world activity, 2.6 million griffons are slaughtered in state-sponsored xenocide.

I had a dream. In my dream I saw some black thing’s head explode. I heard crying, screaming, shouting, gunfire. I saw things. I saw the faces of all the ponies I’d seen killed, the flash of gunfire in the dark as Nightshade cut down a room full of ponies, the screams of ponies as they were ejected out of a cargo bay, Tripwire’s charred corpse floating in space and leaking body fluids. I saw glowing green eyes, a massive ship buckling under a malformed teleport spell, a flashbang. I felt horror. I heard someone begging me to hold on. A lot of things just seemed to mix together.

Vaguely I was aware that I wasn’t entirely dreaming. Vaguely I was aware that I even existed. I remembered pain. I remembered some garbled, screaming arguments between some older buck and a mare. I remembered odd lights and colors even while my eyes were closed. I remembered feeling something warm. I remembered feeling cold pricks all along my body. But above all else, I remembered one thing most clearly:

I was getting real damn tired of waking up in places I hadn’t gone to sleep in.

I groaned, slowly opening my eyes and instantly regretting it. The light in the room stabbed into my head, amidst the feel of soft, warm cotton sheets and the sensation of something tightly wrapped around my body around my waist. I squinted, my head swimming with equal parts nausea and pain. I was in a lot of pain, actually. I could feel it, but it was more of a weird, distant thing, like I was feeling someone else’s pain. The light stung my eyes, and it was only after a few blinks that I noticed that it wasn’t even that bright.

It was several minutes before I was conscious enough to even comprehend my surroundings. I blame the drugs. A rhythmic beep slowly wormed its way into my ears, and with a few more glances, I finally pieced together my location. I was in a hospital. Why was I in a hospital?

I fought through the fog, trying to remember what had happened the previous night and came up empty. Everything from the previous night, or maybe even nights was just gone. The earliest thing I could remember was walking with Tick the previous night. We’d fought over something…Tex. We hit up the market, she visited a shop, and then…

My eyes shot open, suddenly very aware of my surroundings. Changelings. A changeling had tried to kill me. He very nearly succeeded. My dream of the black thing’s head exploding was probably when I was saved.

I shifted in my sheets, feeling the aches and pains as more and more of the conversation leading up to my abduction replayed in my mind. I felt pain everywhere, something about me felt off, but everything past the point where I’d been drugged was just gone. I bit my bottom lip while thinking. It was probably for the best if I didn’t remember that part. But something it had said seemed important. If only I could remember the exact words.

I took a deep breath. The air was pretty stale, but still a shade better than the air on L6-C. Shifting in bed, I felt pain lance up my side and into my shoulder. Wincing, I adjusted my position, accepting the warm sheets for what they were, and instead took a long look around the room I was in.

I couldn’t really compare it to other hospitals. I hadn’t been in enough to really know what I was supposed to be looking for. There was a bed, a counter, a sink, the machine making a low beeping noise sat next to my bed, hooked up to my bedside, and also, I realized, the small wired patches that covered my neck and chest. My vitals beeped away, seemingly normal. It had numbers, not that I understood any of them. I just assumed I was healthy, considering how I felt. The bed seemed adjustable, but I couldn’t see the controls. A ClockDoc sat inactive in the corner, but it wasn’t one I recognized. Next to it was a computer on a swivel mount and a small stool for somepony to sit on. I blinked. My initial estimate of the room light in the room was off. The lights were actually off. The overwhelming lights that I had seen were coming from behind the curtains that were drawn closed. Maybe I was supposed to be sleeping.

I felt weird, looking at the curtains. Everything in the room seemed a little washed out, and vaguely I felt as if everything should have looked a little darker than it appeared. It was like there weren’t enough shadows in the room for the amount of light there was. I shelved the thought for some other time.

I shifted again, wincing as another lance of pain bit into my sides. Whatever the changeling had done to me, he’d done it pretty damn hard. Thankfully I was still covered in gauze. I dreaded to think what I would look like when the bandages came off. If they came off. From what I knew of hospitals, I could be there for months. But, at least I had painkillers. Pretty damn good ones too, seeing as I couldn’t even feel my...wings.

I took a very slow shuddering breath. Distantly I felt something shaking. It took me a solid minute to realize it was me. I didn’t look. I didn’t want to. I just kept telling myself that it was the medicine and stared straight ahead, listening to panicked beeping that the machine at my bedside was making. Oh, look at that, my heart rate is out of control.

The lights came on. I wished they hadn’t. My eyes snapped shut as I very distinctly heard a nurse enter the room. I must have made a noise or something, because a moment later, the lights dimmed to a more tolerable level. My eyes opened in time to see the nurse head to my bedside.

“Easy there, sir. You’ve had an ordeal. Please, just rest a moment and drink some water.” Her voice was calming, almost supernaturally so.

My throat was parched, the IV may have kept my hydrated, and probably fed, but it didn’t keep my throat from drying out. When a glass of water levitated its way to my mouth, I accepted it gratefully and as I drank, I managed to get a good look at my caretaker.

My nurse was a unicorn with a pink coat with a light blue mane like cotton candy. She wore a blue cleansuit with a white cross on the shoulder, as well as a small net to keep her mane tied back. When I had finished drinking, her TK withdrew the glass and set it on a small table attached to the bed.

The nurse smiled at me and nodded. “I’ll go fetch the doctor. I’ll be right back. I promise.”

I nodded numbly. The nurse left the room, turning off the lights as she went. Left to myself, I sat back in my pillow and tried to ignore the knot of pain forming in my chest. I silently thanked Luna for whatever drugs I was on, at least this way I could feel numb.

A few minutes later, the lights came back on, and white Griffon with a brown crest walked in, flanked by the nurse from earlier. Well, mostly Griffon, judging by his relatively diminutive size and pony backside, he was closer to a hippogryph. On his head he wore a WAND with a clear, diamond focus.

The doctor smiled at me, levitating a small tablet in his WAND’s glow. “Good morning Mr. Seldat. My name is doctor Glide and I’m the one overseeing your treatment at our humble facility.” He gave a polite bow, the ruff on his head standing on end for a moment before returning to his normal posture. “I take it you’ve already met my assistant, nurse Taffy?”

I simply nodded my response. The doctor took it as an invitation. Sidling up to my bedside, he sat down, and regarded me with a warm, if hawklike, smile.

“You’re a very lucky buck, Mr. Seldat.”

“Please, call me Horizon,” I croaked. My vocal chords needed exercise too, apparently.

The doctor nodded knowingly. “Horizon it is. Do you remember much?”

I shook my head. “Only a little bit. It’s coming back to me piece by piece, but I can’t remember much of what happened last night.”

The doctor grimaced. “I was afraid of that. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Horizon, but it’s been two weeks since you arrived here.”

I blinked. “Two weeks?”

The griffon cocked his head, glancing briefly at the ceiling, “Well, twelve days, and six hours if you want to be technical, but I don’t think you’re going to be leaving here for another few days at least, so we may as well call it that.”

I took another deep breath, and swore on the exhale. How much had changed? At least it wasn’t two years.

“I’ll understand if you need a few minutes,” the doctor said. “Ah, thank you, Taffy.” A small set of tools entered the Doctor’s TK, most of which looked harmless save for a scalpel and whatever the pokey thing was.

“What… what happened?” I asked.

“I suppose you want the long story. Don’t you?” The doctor said.

I nodded.

He sighed. Nurse Taffy left the room with some promise to get food. I looked at the doctor with grim expectation.

“You were brought in by emergency services a little under two weeks ago via medical teleport. We had you in the emergency room in minutes.” He levitated a small tongue depressor in front of my face. “Open up please.”

I opened my mouth and a small plastic thing entered, forcing my tongue down.

“I’m not going to lie, Horizon,” The doctor peered down my throat briefly, his eyes shifting around across his face, “I was not optimistic about your chances. You are, and continue to be a very lucky buck.”

“What happened to me?” I asked once the depressor was out of my mouth. The doc set it on a tray nearby.

The doctor grimaced. “Are you sure you want to know? This can wait, you know.”

I shook my head. “No. I want to know. It’s better to get it over with now.”

The doctor nodded quietly. “You arrived in critical condition. Multiple breaks on your ribs and wings, lacerations all over where the…thing, cut you. He…” The doctor swallowed. “We believe your attempted murderer tried to remove your wings with a hacksaw. In the condition that you were in, we...had to amputate. I’m sorry.”

I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach as reality started to take hold. I took another slow breath and exhaled. The doctor was kind enough to wait.

“What else?” I asked numbly, eager to push the topic to something, anything else.

“You were injected with a gene scrambler.” The doctor said.

“A what?” I asked.

“It’s a type of illegal drug designed to slowly corrupt your genome and fool the body into attacking itself. It used to be used in lethal injection. From what I’ve read, It’s incredibly painful, and fatal unless it is countered early. If you had been brought in a few minutes later, then I’m afraid we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” The Doctor looked at me sadly, “You are a very lucky pony, Horizon.”

“This is lucky?” I replied, finally looking at him.

The doctor shook his head, “No, I suppose not. But you are alive, and you have your friends to thank for it, as I understand.”

My friends. Just where were my friends? I snorted. I probably owed Nightshade again.

“If you’re worried about medical expenses, by the way, don’t be. Your unicorn friend was very adamant that no expense be spared when it came to your care, and so far everything has been paid in full.” The doctor chuckled, “Doctor Graves was very surprised when she threatened to buy the hospital just to have him fired if he didn’t do something to help you. He was about to write you off, given the condition you arrived in.”

I shivered. “The scrambler… thingy. What about that?”

The doctor winced. “Dealing with that… was not so simple. While we were able to stabilize you from your external injuries, the scrambler was still doing its work. You would have been a lost cause if we hadn’t received a good gene sample from one of your progenitors.”

I blinked. No way.

“My dad was here?” I asked.

The doctor looked at me sadly. “Briefly, yes. Long enough to take some dna samples so we could reconstruct your genome. You may experience some permanent changes to your phenotype as a result, I’m sure you’ve already noticed how bright it is in here, yes? Well I can assure you, it isn’t.”

Son of a bitch.

“Mirror,” I said. “I need a mirror.”

The doctor shook his head, “The only mirror in this room is over by the sink, and I’m afraid it is quite solidly fixed to the wall. I can assure you, however, that your eyes have not changed, at least not outwardly.”

“So what happened? Why can I see like this?” I responded.

The doctor shrugged, “I’m not an expert on genetic medicine, but if I had to guess, your body’s magic is simply adapting to the information that was used to fill the gaps in your DNA. This ability of yours is likely a result of something that you already had, it’s just going to be more pronounced from now on. Overall, you shouldn’t expect too many more dramatic changes to your body,” he glanced to my ears, “save for a little extra hair in a few places.”

“So dad dropped in, saved my life, and then bolted without even saying hello. Figures.” I grumbled.

“I take it you’re not on very good terms with the stallion,” The doctor said, flattening his ruff.

“Understatement of the year,” I replied.

The doctor frowned. “I see.”

“Are my friends here?”

The doctor smiled. “Yes, actually. Visiting hours aren’t for another two hours, but as long as you get some food in your system I think I can make an exception. Nurse Taffy should be back shortly with your meal. Once you’ve finished, we can send your friends into see you.”

I nodded my head gratefully. “Thanks doc.”

He nodded back. “My pleasure. Now I don’t expect you’ll be with us for too many days longer, but once you’re well enough to walk we’ll see about getting you fitted with a proper prosthetic.”

“A prosthetic? Really?” I asked, my mind instantly shooting to the ponies on the trade floor..

Doctor Glide laughed, “Of course! You’re a pegasus, Horizon. I might not fully be one myself but as a fellow flier I can assure you, our wings are our lives. You didn’t think we would just chop them off and leave you be did you? Never, especially not since we have the best medical technology in the universe just a block away. Besides,” he added, “your friend is paying for them.”

“You’re a saint,” I deadpanned.

The doctor smiled. “Tell that to the board of directors. I’m just a doctor.” The gryph drew himself up to his full height, which, considering his breeding, wasn’t too much more than mine. “Mr. Seldat, I’m afraid I have other calls to take now. The nurse should be in soon with your meal. Have a good morning.”

“Thanks doc,” I said.

*****

Despite the nurse’s assurances, the food sucked. It must be a universal constant or something. It was the most bland plate of food I had ever had in my life, and that’s counting all the times I'd sucked down a can of corn mash through a straw back in my old apartment. I’m not sure what exactly it was made of, but whatever it was it had the consistency of paste and texture to match. At least the dessert wasn’t so bad. Cherry jello, or what would have been cherry jello if the powder hadn’t been switched for nutrient supplements. I finished breakfast feeling unsatisfied.

After the nurse took my plate and changed my IV bag, I had a few quiet moments to myself before the door burst open and a white bullet shot into the room trailed by Nightshade’s slower more relaxed gait.

Jess’ ice blue eyes locked onto me with razor sharp focus.

“Oh, thank Celestia.” she breathed. Her breath hitched when her gaze met my sides, most of her energy pretty much evaporated after that. “You know, I was starting to wonder whether or not you would ever wake up,” Jess said, sympathy in her eyes. “You’ve been out for a long time. Not as long as some I’ve seen, but…well, dwelling on it won’t help I suppose.”

“I told you he’d make it,” Nightshade said to Jess before turning to me, “Have a nice nap?”

“Nice to see you too, Nightshade,” I replied flatly. “I suppose I owe you another favor now?”

Nightshade snorted, “If you should be thanking anyone, it’s Tick. She’s the one who ran in screaming bloody murder after all.” The comment earned a glare from Jess which Nightshade rebuffed with a smirk. “What? It’s true.”

“Somehow I wonder why you haven’t been shot yet.” Jess remarked.

“Who is to say I haven’t been,” Nightshade replied.

“Where are the others?” I asked Jess.

“Tick is here, sort of,” Jess said, scuffing one of her boots against the ground. “She really didn’t take the whole situation well. I’ve been trying to talk her down this entire week. She’s a wreck, Horizon. It was all I could do to get her to come today.”

“Can you blame her, though? That thing was practically wearing her, to hear Tex describe it,” Nightshade said.

“No, I can’t blame her, and I wouldn’t,” Jess replied. “I think she is blaming herself for what happened though,” Jess said. “She won’t say a word about it, but I’ve seen other ponies do it before. Especially after a bad run.”

“Is she coming?” I asked.

Jess nodded, “Yes. Whether she likes it or not, she’s coming. Estoc’s gone, by the way,” she finished dourly.

My eyes widened. “Where’s Tex?”

Jess blinked. “With Tick, why?”

“Wait, Tick? Really?” I asked.

“You’ll have to ask either Tick or Tex for the whole story. From what she told me, Tex contacted her because she was the closest and then Tick found your WAND on the ground. After that, she came to get us.”

“So where did Estoc go?”

Jess scowled. “Back to the NSR of course. As soon as heard you were down for the count, he booked a private shuttle in the hangar and took off.”

“You don’t sound so happy about that,” I said.

“Of course not!” Jess said, stomping a hoof. “What kind of stuck up asshole just gets up and leaves the moment one of his friends gets hurt! I don’t care what kind of house cleaning he has to do, at least have the fucking decency to send a get well card!”

“I told you it wasn’t going to work,” Nightshade commented.

“Shut up asshole,” Jess replied. Nightshade merely chuckled.

I laughed bitterly, “Well at least I can cross that off the todo list. Speaking of, has Fritter contacted you at all?” I asked.

Jess shook her head. “Not a word. I’d be concerned too, but right now I’m just a little too preoccupied.”

I thought for a moment. “Have you told Prism?”

Jess flinched, “Not…really. I’ve been debating it for the past few days. She needs to know, but…I don’t know if she wants to know.”

“It’s the wings, isn’t it,” I said.

“For a pegasus you’re taking it remarkably well,” Jess said softly.

“No, I’m not,” I replied. “Maybe it’s the painkillers, but right now this whole situation has got me feeling so numb I can’t feel anything. I’m starting to think they put something in the cocktail to even me out. I should be a blubbering mess right now. Instead, I just feel…dead.”

Jess grimaced. “You almost were. Sweet Celestia, Horizon, if we never have a close call like that again it’ll be too soon.”

We were all quiet for a few minutes after that. Nightshade lounged in the chair, casually glancing at the hospital computer while Jess futzed with some of the settings on the bed.

“I heard my dad dropped in to save my life,” I said, switching subjects.

Jess stopped what she was doing. “Yeah, I met him. If only briefly. I didn’t realize your dad was a Thestral. You look nothing like him.”

“I told you, mom had a taste for the exotic,” I paused, “Don’t…don’t read into that.”

Jess laughed, “He seemed nice enough.”

“I hate him.” I grumbled.

Jess’ expression tightened, “He saved your life.”

“He abandoned me when I was fifteen,” I shot back.

“He had no choice, Horizon. he’s military,” she said.

“And I don’t fucking care! Anypony who has a child should at least spare the dignity to raise them instead of running off like a fucking degenerate!” I yelled.

There was a knock at the door. “Is everything alright in there?”

Nightshade started laughing.

The nurse came in, passing a quizzical look at Nightshade before fixing Jess with a glare. “If you’re going to cause a scene ma’am I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Nightshade laughed harder.

Jess facehoofed. “Oh, gods. I’m sorry, I’ll keep it down,” she replied.

The nurse’s glare compressed into a thin line. “Alright, but if I hear any more trouble I’m calling security.”

Technically she was security, but who was I to argue?

The nurse left shortly afterward.

“Well that’s one way to kill the mood,” I said.

“I’ll say. By the way, I have the reports from raid where we recovered you. If you’re curious I can send them to you, once you have your WAND back, anyway.” Jess said.

“Thanks. I might just look those over. Might be useful when I’m more… myself,” I replied. I yawned. “I’m hurt and I’m tired Jess. Mind if I get some sleep for a while?”

She simply nodded. “I’ll grab Tex and drag her over here in a few hours.” Motioning to Nightshade they both filed out of the room. My sleep was full of nightmares.

*****

I woke up when the door opened a while later, how long that was exactly, I couldn’t tell you. Of all the things the hospital room had, a clock wasn’t one of them. Well, save for the one that just walked inside. To my eyes, the room was hardly dark, but the washed out colors let me know that the lights were at least off. There was still light coming in through the window too, so at the very least I knew it was still daytime, even if the curtains cut out most of it.

Tick stood in the silently entrance, seeming unwilling to move forward, before silently closing the door behind her and creeping inside. In the dark her coat looked almost white, the weird blend of color I was seeing distorting it in my mind’s eye. It was a strange sensation.

As she approached, I could barely hear her mumbling to herself.

“No, I know the door was loud, just shut up for a second!” Tick whispered, unaware that her voice was carrying. “Oh, jeez it’s dark in here. Where’s the lightswitch?”

I sat up a little more in my bed, staring as Tick continued to fumble around for a moment, flailing in the dark one hoof tapping methodically against the wall.

“Ugh I could have sworn it was over here somewhere.” She mumbled, and then added, “No, I don’t need your help, I can find it on my own.”

“Try about two steps to the right,” I said with a smirk.

Tick inhaled, going rigid at the sound of my voice. “H-Horizon?”

“Hi,” I said.

“Shut up!” Tick suddenly shouted, and then slapped a hoof over her mouth. “Oh shit! No, wait I mean, uh.”

I choked back a laugh. “Are you wearing Tex?” I asked.

A pause. “Um, maybe.”

“Cause, you know, I would have figured after the whole-”

“A lot happened oka-eep!” Tick shouted, then immediately covered her muzzle with both hooves. “I-I mean… a lot has happened.” She blinked. “It’s really dark in here.”

The lights came on.

Tick’s face scrunched as she yelled at the air, “You could do that the ENTIRE TIME?!”

“Tick, inside voice,” her face started burning red. I laughed. “So is this what I looked like when she was with me?”

Tick hesitated her face passing purple and entering cherry territory, “m...maybe,” she said quietly. She turned to look at me and immediately flinched.

I looked down. My sheet had slipped. The bindings around my midsection were clearly visible, as well as…

“I…” Tick whimpered, “L-listen Horizon I am so, s-so sorry.”

“It looks pretty bad, doesn’t it,” I said.

“I… um.” Her voice died in her throat, ears drooping.

“Nightshade told me I had you to thank for my rescue,” I said.

Silently, Tick nodded, still looking anywhere but me.

“I’m sorry…” Tick said quietly.

“For what? Saving my life?”

“No, for… um. All this.”

I held up a foreleg to silence her. She flinched. “It’s not your fault, Tick.”

“But it is my fault! If it wasn’t for me we would never have been there in the first place!”

“So?” I replied. “I was the one who suggested it, if you’re going to take the blame then I should too.”

“Why aren’t you angry?” Tick said, adjusting her glasses.

I shrugged, “Drugs, probably. I’m on so many painkillers right now I don’t even know where to begin—or pronounce.”

That only made her look even more miserable.

Tick frowned and looked at tiles between where she was sitting, suddenly talking in low tones “Shh, I know. Just… mmmph.”

“She’s quite the chatterbox, isn’t she.”

Tick made a weak snort, “Tex says she resents that.”

“What happened, Tick?” I asked. "Tell me everything."

Tick squeezed her eyes shut, taking a deep breath. “Tex sent me a message while I was in the store. I almost ignored it, to be honest,” she said weakly. “I think I read it about four times before I actually understood it. I was too… absorbed.” Tick swallowed. “When I figured out what she was saying, I ran back out. I didn’t see you, and all I found was some… asshole trying to run off with your WAND.” She made a weak chuckle, “I nearly gored him when I tackled him.” Then, grimacing she said, “Security got involved after that.

“Tex dumped herself into my WAND the moment she was in range. I didn't read the request, I just thought she wanted to talk. I mean…holy crap, Horizon, I never knew. How can you think like this?”

I chuckled, “It takes some practice. How did you get away from security?”

“Simple, I talked to them,” Tick replied. “I may have been a little panicked at the time. Tex is the one who convinced them, I think. She sent audio of everything that happened until you were separated to the officer’s WAND. He stepped away after that and I ran to get Jess.”

She glanced at my side again and shivered. “I don’t… oh, gods I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracked, “I was there when security raided the apartment. I… I saw everything! I… ” With a soft fwump, Tick buried her face into the sheets of my bed, sobbing “Why would somepony do this?!”

I couldn’t really say anything after that. Nothing seemed appropriate. All Tick did was cry. All I could do was stare, numb and speechless.

Something bubbled up in my mind in the quiet between her sobs. A distant memory, something that I felt my killer had said sometime in the haze of my capture,

“This is survival,” It had said. I saved the thought for later.

*****

I got the full story about the raid from Jess on day two. Using her status as a PBJ headhunter, she attached herself and Nightshade into the strike team that took out my attacker, and Tick had to come along because she was holding Tex. Tex was the one responsible for finding me. They dropped in at central security, and Tex pulled the archives of every single camera in the sector, tracking my progress through the station until I arrived at the changeling’s hideout.

The apartment I had been taken to was listed as vacant, but conveniently absent from any of the public listings. The company that did list it, was a front. It paid taxes, but only had a few holdings in the entire station, all of them in vastly different areas. SWAT teams were dispatched to all of them. Only the raid on the apartment came back with any results. The organization behind the front company, sadly, was not able to be determined.

I was found in a bathtub, submerged in ice and bleeding everywhere. A med team teleported me to the hospital. The rest was history.

*****

My wings were gone. The reality of it didn’t sink in until day four, when the medical team started easing me off whatever drugs were keeping me level. Eighteen treatments with the ClockDoc had seen to my injuries, all save for the most important bits, and I was starting my discharge process, visibly shaking at my stubs for wings. My denial was strong. Two of the orderlies had to restrain me, injecting me with a mild tranquilizer to help bring me down off my panic attacks. It didn’t stop the twitching in my flight muscles, though. I spent the next day in observation, and stayed there until the doctors were confident I had calmed down. The depression set in just as I started looking at the prosthetics.

Tick had insisted that she come along and was accompanied by Jess, who wanted to make sure that whatever prosthetic I received wouldn’t just be superficial. That left me with a selection of cyberware to choose from with price tags that made me weak in the knees. Some of them made me downright queasy just to look at. Some were Industrial strength hover harnesses for the adventurous, more as a solution for non-pegasi than for anything else. Other options were fully actuated wing replacements that looked too heavy and too bulky for my weak, meaty flight muscles to support. Just wearing them would have required me to reinforce my spine, which just was not going to happen.

I wanted something natural, something as close to what I’d lost as possible, and that left me with frighteningly few choices, save for some more experimental pieces that would have cost the rest of my body parts to purchase. Tick demanded to pay for it, and so off we went.

What I ended up getting was a semi-detachable system that plugged directly into my nervous system, and was powered with a focusing crystal that bled off a fraction of my natural magic similar to how a WAND functioned. It was comprised of an ultra-lightweight metal alloy with a chrome finish, and the feather vanes were made of some flexible composite material that was only slightly heavier than the natural stuff. They assured me that the feathers would never break, but also told me that the assembly would need regular maintenance in order to maintain their function. They put me under for the install. I was released that day, with sympathetic glances from the pegasus doctor who saw me out the door.

On the way out I got a copy of the bill that Tick had paid off for me. Eighteen days of hospitalization, plus emergency medical care, scans, medicines, an exotic DNA transplant, incidentals, and the shiny new cyberware racked up a final total of 409,817 bits. Tick didn’t even blink.

*****

I wore my WAND out of habit, and Tex had moved back in. Absently, I thought it was interesting how she could only be in one place at a time. Tick wasn’t exactly glad to be rid of her, but considering the circumstances that led to my salvation, I could understand her attachment. They’d made up privately, as far as I could tell, with Tick now taking less convincing that Tex’s existence wasn’t a bad thing. She still had her concerns, of course, but they were a lot friendly now than they had ever been, and from what Tex told, she actually shared some of Tick’s concerns. I was just glad the Prince didn’t run off with her when he bailed for the NSR.

I sat alone in the pilot’s cabin of the Scrap Bandit, dolefully futzing with my new appendages.

“Oh, dammit.” I swore, as my wing shot open with a soft fssk. Consciously I tried to retract it, only managing to shoot the other one open in the process. Groaning, I banged my head against the console.

Come on, Horizon, you’ll get used to it eventually. Tex said. Just keep at it.

My wings were surprisingly quiet. I had imagined the sound of whining servos or other sounds I frequently associated with noisy hydraulics, and was surprised instead with a system that made, at worst, a whisper quiet hissing noise whenever the feathers mixed together, and the small sound of metals slipping over each other with only the lightest friction. I guess you get what you pay for.

I know, Tex, it’s just… different. I thought.

I understand what it feels like to be missing parts, Tex replied somberly. You’re not alone.

Do you? I asked. She didn’t answer after that. I managed to retract both of my wings, the strange metals sliding into place at my side almost as natural as could be. I hated the latency, though. It was oh so slight, but noticeable. Nothing beats the original.

Just then, the comm suite flared to life, with an incoming message from Jess’ ship. I looked up at the control board and accepted it with my WAND.

“Hey tiger, ready to go?” She said, voice crackling through the speaker.

Clenching my jaw, I started flipping the switches I needed to power on the main engine and brought the Bandit fully online.

“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s go home.”

46% Remaining...

25 - History

Chapter 25
History
“Oh, thank Celestia you’re back.”
“Don’t thank her just yet, we gotta get out of here.”
“What? Why?”
“Police just raided the building three blocks over searching for rebels.”
“Wait…was that why the screaming started?”
“Yeah. They shot everyone inside, and they’re coming here next.”
3375 E.C. After survivors from the Border Worlds flee back into the Core, news quickly spreads of the NSR’s actions. Civil war erupts on seven Core worlds.

I can’t begin to describe how weird it felt to be flying the ship on the trip home. With Estoc gone Celestia knew where, and Jess flying alongside us in her cruiser, the pilot’s cabin of the Scrap Bandit felt almost empty. I spent the hours almost jumping at the ping of the scanner every time it fired, partly out of a newfound paranoia, and partly because I kept expecting Jess to barge into the cabin to complain about the prince hogging the holo. I actually missed it. Instead I was left with a silent ship, and quiet neighbors.

Tick and Nightshade didn’t make much noise when left to themselves, and neither of them were very talkative for the majority of the hours we spent crossing the black. Tick spent most of the flight in the engine room, finishing her optimizations to the power systems while Nightshade contented himself to meditating in the cargo bay, a behavior that I found both new and yet completely expected at the same time. He didn’t like it when I asked him about it, and that was about as far as I got pursuing the issue. On my brief walkabouts between jumps, I checked in on him from time to time and noticed that he’d started mixing potions with his clock doc, using ingredients that I assumed he had acquired from Four Corners. At one point I saw him take one, different from the reddish orange potions I’d seen him use before. It was a glass full of roiling pink liquid, and it made him shiver and gag while he drank it. I left feeling mildly disturbed as the taste of a very particular concoction came back to mind.

While I was stuck recovering, Tick had been busy. Left to herself with the Bandit for two whole weeks, she’d nearly completed her promised overhaul. Everything thing on the board was green for the first time I could ever recollect. The drones were online and updated with new operating systems that actually functioned for a change and didn’t crash every few minutes. Things had been replaced, supplies had been replenished, and everything had this pristine touch of newness to it that absolutely clashed with with my understanding of my ship.

The sensation left me feeling conflicted. On one hoof I was intensely pleased. The Bandit had finally started feeling like an actual starship instead of a hobbled together junker. On the other I couldn’t help but feeling just a little bit offended. I…really can’t explain why. The strangeness of it all made me feel more than a little out of touch, and coupled with the fact that I had just survived a traumatic experience that took away two weeks of my life and more, the newness of it all rankled me. It only served to remind me of what I had lost and how fast things were changing without me. I wanted to come home to something at least remotely familiar—something that hadn’t changed since my life got upended in a single night. The Bandit was my anchor; I’d known it for years. It was always stupid, maybe, but I had learned to appreciate that stupid. I tried reminding myself that this was the way the ship should have been from the get go, if Junkyard had invested the bits in keeping it properly cleaned and maintained. I should have been grateful, and I was, to an extent, but the changes couldn’t have come at a worse time, especially with…everything. With everything she’d done, I owed Tick a lot. Though I don’t know what kind of favors I could possibly repay her with. There was nothing I could do for her at the moment, at least. Still, I couldn’t help but notice the guilty look on her face every time we crossed paths onboard the ship. That would have to go, somehow, but that would be a conversation for later.

Seeing as we were near enough to the right territory, I took the time to make a last stopover to collect Joe’s whiskey, and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was the easiest job I had ever taken. I arrived at the station in the Core where the dispatch was located, sidled up to the dock, and the customs pony took care of the rest. In. Out. Done. I didn’t even have to leave my ship.

That’s it. That was the whole damn thing. I had wasted all that time putting it off, and that was all I had to do. I left in record time with two pallets of whiskey sitting in my cargo hold and I didn’t even have to lift a feather. It was better than a milk run, and at the rate I was going, I’d be at Winter’s Edge in time for dinner. Station time, anyway.

*****

When I arrived back at Winter’s Edge, I had a big debate over whether or not I should just get a good night’s sleep before finishing all the errands I had left to do. Joe needed his whiskey, and I wasn’t keen on making him wait for it any longer. I also needed to talk to Fritter. I had sent both of them a message as soon as I landed. But with my hooves finally on the deck It was extremely tempting to just tuck in and do it in the morning. I opted to do my job instead. First things first, Joe’s liquor.

Joe’s bar looked the same it always did, a mix of styles, slowly upgraded over time yet kept perfectly clean and presentable by the pony who ran it. It had a lived-in feel to it, beat in by countless customers and who knew how many sob stories. I had a rush of nostalgia as I walked in through the front door. I scanned around the room for a moment and spotted Joe at his place behind the counter, chatting up one his patrons while putting the finishing touch on one of his specials. As the bell dinged, Joe casually glanced in my direction.

“Welcome to Donut Joe’s Bar,” he said. Joe blinked at me for a few seconds until a smile washed over his face. “Horizon! Good ta see—” His eyes met my wings and his smile slipped, his mouth dropping open as his eyes widened, “you,” he finished slowly.

I tried to ignore the look of pity on his face. “Hey Joe,” I said calmly. “Guess what I brought?” I hefted dispatch into the air with my WAND and gave my friend a tired smirk.

Joe set the drink down, and look at his client, “Drink up, Clive, I gotta take care of somethin and I might be awhile.” The pony nodded response, taking the drink and contenting himself to reading something from a tablet on the counter. With a flash of his horn, the counter opened and Joe strode out, the sand colored pony stopping just a few paces in front of me.

Joe looked at me with the most compassion I’ve seen from any pony I’d ever known. “What happened son?” Joe asked quietly. “In fact, why don’t you come on back and tell me all about it. I expect you’re needin a stiffy right about now.” He waved me over with a foreleg and turned toward the back. I followed.

The backroom was still as barebones as I remembered. The microwave and coffee maker hadn’t moved, but the cabinet door had been replaced. As I entered, Joe pulled me into a tight hug, and then fixed me with a look as if he was seeing ghosts, and not the scary kind.

“I got your whiskey, finally,” I said with a half-assed laugh.

Joe scowled. “Screw the whiskey, boy,” he said, pulling a chair out for me with his magic, “take a seat, and tell me the whole story.”

I sat down, a sense of deja vu briefly overwhelming me. The last time we had a conversation like this, I was running from the law. “It’s…complicated,” I said.

“I’m a patient buck, Horizon, take your time. But please, tell me,” Joe replied. He sat there with concern in his eyes.

I was having trouble meeting them, feeling again like a young colt in front of his father. “Remember back at my trial, when we found out who framed me was a changeling?” I said quietly, staring at the empty coffee cup on the little backroom table.

Joe nodded, “I remember. Real shock, too.”

“I met another one,” I simply said.

“The whole story, Horizon, don’t spare nuthin,” Joe said.

I sighed. “Fritter tipped me off to a lead on Four Corners. I went to investigate.”

Joe scowled. “Did he now,” he drawled. His tone hardened. “Did that featherhead get you into this?!”

I stopped him before he could go off. “No, Joe, it,” I sighed, “Fritter didn’t cause this. We took care of the lead, this...this happened afterward.”

“What happened?”

So I told him. Every little thing, every little detail, everything I could remember, I let it all out.

Joe closed his eyes as he listened and took a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, he kept his eyes locked on me, looking like he’d never smile again. When I’d told him what it all cost and what Tick had done for me, Joe sat back and whistled.

“Really? Okay, son, you go find that filly and you tell her that if she ever wants a drink on the house she can have it, ‘cause that’s a mighty nice thing she did for you. It’s a shame there ain’t more rich folk like her. They could do a load of good.”

I laughed. “Right?”

Joe looked thoughtful for a moment, and then looked at me quietly. “Did I ever tell you what my real name was?”

I looked up, blinking. “Uh, Donut Joe?” I offered.

Joe rolled his eyes, “Oh, my Ce—No, my name ain’t Donut Joe. Ya’ll just started callin me that and never quit.”

Wait…I did?

Joe chuckled weakly, “but ‘nuf about that, Horizon. My real name is Clementine. Clementine Orange.” What little smile he had died on his face. “I was married once upon a time. Had a wife and a nice little filly, just like Fritter.”

Joe’s eyes fell to the table with a sad smile. “And they were my world.”

The silence stretched as I realized what he meant. “I-I’m sorry.”

Joe looked at me and shook his head, “Don’t you say that, boy. You didn’t do nothin wrong. Just bad circumstances, that’s all. They went after you because you were a Fader, didn’t they.”

I merely nodded. “That’s pretty much what Fritter and I have been finding out.”

Joe took a breath. “They got mine, too,” he said. “The difference between us, Horizon, is that you’re still young enough to fight. I know yer a fighter. I see you runnin off inta who knows where and you still hardly even blink at the danger.” He chuckled softly, “even if ya swear otherwise.”

I couldn’t really argue against that.

“Just know that I’m no stranger to loss, Horizon. I’ve seen some dark times, and these are dark times, but I know also that something like this, you ain’t gonna let it set you back.”

Joe smiled sadly and pulled me into a warm hug.

“Now just let it all out.”

So I did.

*****

Ages. It felt like it had been ages since I had last cried. A lot had happened within such a short timespan that I was having trouble keeping up with it all. When I was with Joe, er, Clem—ah fuck it, I just can’t drop the nickname—When I was with Joe, the professional distance, or whatever that weird, emotionally numb sensation I had, broke. We talked at length afterward. Mostly about private things. Joe took a moment to bid his friend at the bar farewell before we continued. I learned a lot about Joe then.

Joe used to live in the heartland of the Earth Pony Republic back when he was a proud member of the Orange clan, one of the few influential families that were large enough to oppose the Apple family in Congress, or at least the subset of the Apple mafia that controlled the EPRW Congress. He was a lot more bold back then—‘A different pony’ in his own words. He married young to a fader named Radiance and together they had a filly named Sundancer and planned to raise her into a proper lady. A few year later, the murder happened.

Radiance was friends with another fader, whose family kept going on about being ‘hunted’. Joe said that when he first met them, they seemed to be paranoid. They would jump at shadows, insist on checking everything for listening devices, and were generally the most anxious houseguests that you had ever laid eyes on. They had warned him, under no uncertain terms, that he and his family should lay low, and try to disappear from the grid. It was the most awkward night in his memory, and one that he only wished he had taken seriously.

Twelve years after their marriage, Radiance and Sunshine vanished from a grocery store in the middle of the day. Joe was working that day, minding his own bar while his family ran out to get more supplies. When they didn’t return, Joe appropriately freaked. He invoked the family name in order to push the investigation, which finally ended when their bodies were found a week later.

Clementine Orange died that day. Over several of the following years, Joe drank himself into debt. Faced with the prospect of being corralled into one of the EPR’s infamous debt prisons, Joe sold the bar, and fled to the Rim in order to escape them. He spent the next decade rebuilding his life, getting clean, and opening the franchise bar that became his namesake.

It was a lot to take in all at once. After he finished, I asked him if the pain from loss ever got better.

He nodded sadly and simply told me there were some wounds that not even time could heal, sort of an ache in your chest that never leaves you—a scar on your soul. He said it felt better now than it used to, but the feeling never left. There wasn’t a day that went by that he wished things could be different, but he knew from experience that chasing the past only led to more trouble. He wasn’t a fighter, not like me, although I don’t know if I really agreed with that assumption. So he simply settled down and accepted his lot in life, and hid. That was why he thought I was reckless. I had a hard time disagreeing with him.

When we had finished talking, we said our farewells and I went home depressed.

*****

I needed a shower after meeting with Joe, well, I needed a shower regardless, but moreso after my tear streaked face finally trudged through my apartment door. The warm water pooled around my hooves while I sat in the shower, contemplating everything while idly watching the way the water droplets left streaks running down the vanes of my fake wings. I couldn’t feel them at all. A little pressure here and there, but what used to be an acute sensation felt like a void at my spine. Half numb, is what I would have liked to call the feeling. I could still move my wings, as the subtle shifting of the metal appendages would attest. Half the time I was in the shower I simply stared at them, extending and retracting the metal bones at the elbow, still having trouble coming to terms with the fact they were attached to me.

Why did this happen to me?

I wished that I could feel something through the cold metal. The wings might have been connected to my nervous system, even grafted into the bone structure that they had to reinforce after my operation, but that didn’t return the sensation of touch to my wingtips. I’d never be able to graze a feather over a lover’s kiss or feel the rush of air over my wings on a long dive. Such sensation was lost to me, now and forever, and the knowledge of that felt like a punch to the gut that wouldn’t go away.

The worst part was the latency. Modern technology may have been impressive, but even the best hardware still suffered when it came to translating intent. Tick had made sure I got the best for replacements, but the wings I had still took just a fraction of a second longer to react than they did when I was whole. It made me feel sluggish in the worst sense. Reaction speed was prized among pegasi, it’s what kept us alive during flight. It’s what allowed us to do the insane aerial maneuvers we were known for. Supposedly the instinct was genetic, bred from prey instincts from who knew how many millennia back. Having the delay, some disconnect between the time I reacted to something and the time my wings would move, was maddening, and so was the water temperature. My shower had gone cold.

I turned off the water and toweled off, making sure to flick any residual droplets out of the joints of my wings so they wouldn’t rust. Granted, they were supposed to be waterproof, but I wasn’t taking any chances with my luck. The last thing I wanted was for my wings to get any worse.

I wanted to sleep so badly after that, hoping for just a moment that maybe I wouldn’t have nightmares tonight, bringing back some foggy memories of a small dark room, flashing eyes, and pain. I wanted to sleep, but what I wanted and what I had to do were two different things, and at that moment, I couldn’t wait to see Fritter any longer. I needed answers, and he was already expecting me. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder as I left the safety of my apartment, what else would my answers cost me?

*****

A short while later, found me standing just outside Fritter’s apartment door, patiently waiting for him to answer his buzzer while I idly tapped a hoof against the metal decks of the floor.

I heard a commotion on the other side. A sudden scramble of what sounded like hoofbeats before something hard fell, and I heard Fritter, or at least I assumed it was Fritter, swear. The intercom next to his door flared to life.

“Who’s there?” Fritter answered with less than his usual zest, his voice crackling over the speaker.

“It’s me, Fritter. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it sooner, my life’s been getting a little complicated,” I said.

“Horizon?!” Fritter’s voice exploded over the intercom, overloading the speaker. “You made it! Oh thank Celestia… hang on a sec while I get the door!” The intercom clicked off. I stood in front of the door waiting patiently until until I the door chimed and slid neatly open.

Fritter stood on the other side, looking like death warmed over. He blinked at me wearily, before his eyes caught a glance of my wings and a look of comprehension swept over his face.

“Oh, my stars,” he breathed. His eyes widening as he took a step back. Fritter swallowed hard. “What happened?!”

“With all your contacts, you really don’t know?” I said.

Fritter’s ears drooped. “I didn’t… I mean, uh, I’m... I’m not the best... okay?” he said averting his eyes. “Why don’t you come inside. We… we’ve got business to talk about.” Fritter slowly stepped out of the way.

I stepped inside and the door closed behind me. We sat down in his living room while I told Fritter the whole story, and he processed it as fast as he was able. The poor buck wasn’t kidding when he said he wasn’t getting enough sleep. A more accurate statement would have been that he wasn’t getting any sleep. His eyes seem to blink of out sync while he worked through my sentences. His mane poked out at odd angles as he swayed heavily on his hooves, looking very much like he was falling in place. The bags under his eyes were large enough for a weekend trip, and by the faint smell coming off of him, he’d been drinking too. When I’d finished, Fritter stared numbly into the distance.

“I never knew,” Fritter said, shaking his head. “I’ve been so swamped with everything that I figured I must have just missed your message or something. Sweet Celestia, I must have missed Jess’ message too.”

“What have you been working on?” I asked.

Fritter looked at me with tired eyes. “My worst nightmare,” he said vacantly.

I set my jaw. “Where’s your family, Fritter?”

He looked back. “Oh, they’re here, Pearl’s just putting Nutmeg to bed right now. Frankly, we could all use the sleep.”

I winced. “Should I come back tomorrow?” I offered.

Fritter shook his head. “No, I can stay awake just a little longer. There’s no need for that right now, especially now that I finally have some answers for you.”

My eyes widened. “You know who did it?”

Fritter grimaced. “You’re not going to like this,” He said. He turned to his laptop, and with a few short keystrokes, the holo in his living room flared to life.

Fritter grimaced, talking while typing, “My contacts were able to trace most of the destination data from the server where you uploaded the communication logs,” he explained. “There was a lot of data to parse through, seeing as we got a carbon copy of the entire transmission, so we all took different chunks of the data and started paging through them manually.”

Fritter stopped a moment, looking at the holo’s projection and hovering a hoof over a key. “My contact sent me this.” The hoof dropped. Immediately the projection filled with a single message. I had to read it a few times to understand just what was going on.

Lion,
The investigation on L6-C is creating problems for the operation. Ensure that it is dealt with. Do not cause a scene.
-1

“That’s it?” I asked, not totally comprehending.

Fritter took a deep breath. “We believe this was the email ordering the raid on Chance’s law office, as well as the deletion of very specific records from the PBJ’s database,” he said.

“If I recall correctly, you said you got this already,” I said,

Fritter nodded. “Correct, But we didn’t know where it was from, or where it was heading to. Do you recognize this name?” Fritter said, tapping another key. The screen changed, highlighting some details in the routing information. A message had been written over it.

SZ,
I tracked the receiver’s number, it belongs to a pony on the Council by the name of “Nimbus Leavenworth”. I couldn’t identify the sender though. There’s a chain of M-Net repeaters that the message passed through, but half of them aren’t registered to any list at all. Somepony has built a secret back channel inside the M-Net. My best guess is that the message originated from there, and judging by the repeaters it passed through, the real origin is probably somewhere in deep space. Thought you should know.
-LVLY

Nimbus Leavenworth. The name sounded vaguely familiar. If he was a pony on the council then he would be...councilor Leavenworth.

It clicked.

“Chief Counselor Leavenworth,” I said. “He was at my trial. He and some other pony.”

“Correct again,” Fritter said, nodding slightly, “and if you recall, the Council has near absolute authority on the goings on in the PC. All the chiefs of staff report to them, including the head of the PBJ. If this message is real, then someone must have some serious dirt on the councilor to get him to bend to their whim this easily. Just look at the wording.”

I suddenly understood why Jess’ boss acted the way he did. He knew. Now I understood why his hooves were tied when it came to the investigation. Any more involvement would single him out.

“Jess needs to see this,” I muttered.

Fritter nodded. “I know, and she will, but still, think of the implication! Somepony, or someone, is giving orders to one of the highest ranked ponies in the entire sovereignty!” Fritter took a slow breath, “I knew this would go deep, but we’re way out of our depth here. If this person has one councilor under his hoof, how many others? And so high?! How many more ponies are under their control? Now I’m starting to think I understand why Junkyard went through all the trouble to maintain his secrecy.”

I glanced darkly at my prosthetic wings. “And now we’re in the thick of it,” I said.

Fritter nodded again, leaning back in his seat and frowning. “That’s about the gist of it. It’s been keeping me up at night, let me tell you,” Fritter sighed. “Both of us.”

“Pearl knows?” I asked.

Fritter squeezed his eyes closed and sighed. “Too much. She started poking through my files and learned about all the murders that have been happening. Now it’s everything I can do to get her to sleep.”

“That explains the exhaustion,” I said.

Fritter nodded, “I don’t think I’ve had even eight hours this week. I’ve been practically living off coffee and donuts for the last two. Nutmeg’s been noticing the tension too.” Fritter grimaced. “I don’t like keeping her in the dark. I know it’s better if she doesn’t worry, but I don’t want her to be danger either. I mean...Fuck! Dude! First all this, and then you get hurt, and the murders…and I just…” Fritter exhaled, when he spoke again he had a haunted look in his eyes. “What if they find us? I can’t…” He breathed. “I could never live with myself if something happened. But… how do you hide from something that could literally be anyone?” Fritter slumped in his chair, his somber gaze rising to the projector. “And what’s worse is...it seems like discovery is inevitable.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Fritter’s scowled. “There’s a list,” he said darkly.

“A list of what?”

He looked me in the eyes. “A list of ponies,” he replied. “You were on it.”

Fritter hit a key and brief message popped onto the holo’s field. It had neither a sender nor a receiver and simply read:

02:16:4131:08:10 Target cleansed. Scratch him off the list.

“This message was flagged by one of my contacts, and traced to a destination at a secure server somewhere in the Core. Until you showed up, I didn’t know who it was referring to, but if I’m right, then it was sent just before that strike team saved your life on Four Corners. And by your story, it was sent by a changeling.”

This is survival. I remembered.

“Survival…” I muttered.

“I’m sorry what did you say?” Fritter asked, his sleep deprived eyes widening.

“When that changeling tried to kill me, I remember it saying something like, ‘this is survival’, or something like that.”

Fritter pondered it for a moment. “Motive,” he said a few seconds later. “Survival...maybe the…” His eyes widened, “no…”

Fritter twisted back toward his laptop, rapidly typing off a message cc’d to several of his contacts.

“Uh, Fritter?” I watched as Fritter continued to work with a sort of fire in his eyes. “What are you doing?”

Fritter kept typing. “Getting answers. I have a hunch.” With a single loud key tap, the message disappeared from the screen.

He turned to me. “I think I know why the changelings are getting involved, but I need to verify it with somepony who knows more about it. I think it’s fatal to them.”

“What is?” I asked.

“Fade,” he replied. “Think about it. Why would changelings, a race that has gotten along with ponies for millennia, suddenly up and decide to start eliminating faders from the streets? We’re their food supply! What if faders are like… poisonous to them?”

“But you’re implying that changelings are pulling the strings of all the major governments,” I replied. “Last I heard they were being hunted down. That doesn’t make sense.”

Fritter shook his head. “I can’t defend the connection there, but it makes sense if they’re working for somepony else who can. I’m going to need more information,” he sighed, “but, unfortunately, until I hear back from my contacts, all I can do right now is wait.”

I sat back, feeling the weight of the world back on my shoulders. “So I guess we’re done then, huh?”

Fritter nodded. “Pretty much, unless you’ve got a better-Oh!” Fritter’s eyes shot open. “I just realized something! Is Tex with you right now? Because if she’s willing, I have something she might like to try tomorrow morning.”

Tex? You awake? I thought at her.
Mmm? Yeah! I’m here, she replied back, I’ve just been recording everything in case we need it later. It keeps me busy. What does he want?

“Tex wants to know what it is,” I translated to Fritter.

“I found a cube reader,” Fritter said with a satisfied smile. “Remember that storage cube? We can finally crack it open! It arrived like a few days ago from one of the contacts that I asked about it—a real tech pony.”

Yes! I wanna do it! I wanna do it! Tex cheered.

Well it would make for a good distraction, at least. I gave Fritter half a smile, “Tex is in.”

Fritter smiled. “Great! That should make things easier. I’m going to need some time to set it up, so if you come see me here late tomorrow morning, I should have it up and running. Then our little data expert here can open it. Actually, make it tomorrow afternoon. I’m going to try and sleep in a bit.”

I nodded as I stood to leave. “Tomorrow, then,” I said. “Get some sleep Fritter.”

He gave me a tired laugh, “I’ll try. Good night, Horizon.”

*****

I had a lot to think about that night, as well as a lot of emails to catch up on, and I needed sleep, but first, I needed to contact Prism, and no conversation with Prism would have been complete without Jess to at least mediate if things flew south. I sent Jess a message about contacting Prism and she agreed. We both ended up meeting at a public comm terminal near Jess’ hotel, and Jess went ahead and sent the request. The ringing lasted forever.

“Anytime now,” I muttered, looking wearily at the comm screen and frowning. My legs were going stiff from the wait, my wings…well I didn’t want to think about those. “Does it usually take this long for her to answer?” I asked.

Jess shrugged, “Occasionally, I’m not too worried, though. Prism’s a big mare with big responsibilities.”

“Waitressing?” I replied.

“No, dummy, she’s back in the tower, remember?” Jess replied with a smirk.

“Okay so marginally important,” I said as my own smile crept back in. I was rewarded with a wingslap to the head. “What, you know how much they love taking breaks in the tower. Heck, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were playing poker up there or something, considering how fast the queues move.”

Jess sniffed and stiffened, raising her snout to be perfectly level with the floor. “For your information I’ve been inside that tower before, and I can tell you with confidence that they’re not playing poker,” she said, her faux poise breaking with the smirk across her face, “they’re playing hearts.”

I laughed, my mood improved at least a little bit. The line connected.

“Hey Jess! Sorry I took so long, I had to find somepony to cover for me while I took the call.” Prism’s red face appeared on the monitor in all of its cheery glory. She looked a little worn down, and considering the time, it was probably close to the end of her shift.“ So what gives? It’s been nearly two weeks since our last chat!”

“Hey girl!” Jess replied. “I know! I’m sorry! And there’s a good reason for that. By the way, Horizon’s here with me.”

“He is?” Prism said, looking confused. “I don’t have a--Oh! damn monitor! Give me a second here.” Prism looked around the side of the camera and gave the machine around it a solid thump. The feed jittered for a moment, a few lines of static briefly distorting the image before it stabilized. Prism glanced back at the camera, and then smiled. “There we go!” She said. She glanced to her right, blinked, and then quirked an eyebrow. “Really Horizon? A costume? What, did you get so high on adventure that you decided to cosplay a superhero or something?”

Jess’ face froze in a rictus somewhere between two expressions I couldn’t identify. We both exchanged glances.

“Oh, and now you’re mind reading. Did you two hook up when I wasn’t looking? I mean, I don’t mind! Jess! But I think you might want to raise your standards a little,” Prism said with a knowing smirk.

The silence stretched. Subconsciously I fluffed my wings uncomfortably, the slight shifting noises seemed so much louder now.

Prism’s face went from smug, to confused, to horrified all in the span of about two seconds. “Oh my GOSH! What did you DO?! Are those REAL?!”

“You might want to sit down for this, Prism,” Jess said.

To her credit, she did.

“I-I-I am SO sorry! I had no idea! Just what have you been doing these last two weeks?!” Prism said, sounding more and more like a Griffon with every syllable.

“Would you believe me if I said sleeping?” I replied.

Jess groaned. “Could you take this seriously please?” she said.

“What? This is like the fifth time I’ve had to explain this today,” I replied. “It gets old fast. And humor is how I cope. I think.”

“I told you to be careful!” Prism shouted, nearly overloading the speaker.

“And I was! Just… not careful enough, I guess. Trouble came looking for me, this time,” I said.

“I knew I should have come.” Prism said, “I knew I couldn’t let you just walk out on your own and get beat up again, I mean...look at you!”

“Prism, you wouldn’t have been able to do anything.” I said.

“Yes I could! I’d beat his ass all the way off the station if I had to.”

I frowned, feeling anger start to build inside of me. “No! You couldn’t! You weren’t there, Prism! you couldn’t see what-” I swallowed, tasting bile, “what they did to me. You wouldn’t have stood a chance!”

“Bullshit! I can take anypony!” Prism yelled.

“It wasn’t a pony!” I shouted back. “I don’t know what it used on me! But you couldn’t have stopped it, hell it might of taken you too for all the good it did.”

“Oh, hell no I would have put up a fight,” Prism argued.

“You think I didn’t try?” I replied angrily. “You think I wanted to go through what that… that fucking bug did to me? You think I wanted these?” I spread my wings to make a point. Prim flinched as if struck. “I tried fighting, Prism. But by the time I figured out what was going on, it was already too late.”

“What do you mean, too late?” Prism huffed, “You’re strong, you can sorta scuffle. Why couldn’t you?”

“Mind magic, Prism. All it had to do was get me to look in it’s eyes,” I said, glaring at the monitor. “After that I lost everything. It had complete control of my body. I…I’m just glad I can’t remember anything after that.”

Prism’s expression sank from angry to downright livid. “I swear I am going to beat the living shit out of-”

“No,” Jess cut in. The word alone was enough to earn silence from Prism.

Prism looked at her in shock. “What? Why?!”

“Because he’s right, Prism,” Jess said sternly, “You’re not trained to fight mind magic. You wouldn’t last three seconds before they had you the same way.”

Prism quieted at that, sinking a little in her stance in front of the camera. Her ears drooped. “I...just...sorry,” She mumbled. “I don’t like seeing my friends get hurt.”

Jess’ expression drew into a line. “I know.”

“So...why did you call?” Prism asked after an uncomfortable silence.

“Partially to fill you in, and partially to warn you,” Jess said. “They’re targeting Faders as far as we can tell.”

Prism gasped, “You mean the rumors are true?!”

“What rumors? What have they been saying?” Jess replied.

“Ponies disappearing,” Prism muttered. “I-I’d heard talk that they were related somehow but I didn’t realize that all the victims were Faders. I...oh my Celestia, I could be next!”

“I won’t let it come to that,” Jess said with a tight frown.

Prism steeled herself. “I know. But… thank you for telling me. I’ll be careful.”

“Don’t look anyone, anyone in the eyes,” I added firmly.

“I...I will.” Prism said, resolute. A moment later she ruined it. “Er, won’t I mean. Ugh! I don’t know! Whatever it’s supposed to be!”

Jess laughed, “Good girl.”

“Keep calling, okay?” Prism said. “I have both of your messenger ID’s so I’ll shoot you a message if anything’s wrong.”

“We’ll look for it,” Jess said. “Be safe.”

Prism looked at both of us then, her eyes stopping briefly on what I assumed were my wings. “I…I will.”

After that, the call ended.

“Well that could have gone better,” Jess sighed, rubbing her forehead with a hoof. “Sometimes, that girl, I swear…”

“She’ll be okay, right?” I asked her.

Jess snorted, “Do you really have to ask? This is Prism we’re talking about here.”

I shrugged, keenly remembering my meeting with her in prison. “I suppose you’re right. By the way, head to Fritter’s tomorrow afternoon. He’s got something for you, and we’re cracking open the cube too.”

Jess nodded, “alright, see you then.”

From there we parted ways. I didn’t sleep well that night, despite finally being home. Damn nightmares.

*****

The next morning came and went. I spent some time with Tex, enduring her enthusiasm about all the different cracking methods she wanted to try on the storage cube when she finally got the chance, while I tried to make a bowl of cereal for breakfast. All of what she said was completely lost on me. I’m a pilot, not a programmer, or hacker or whatever, so all I could do really do was mumble some response between bites and hope she didn’t catch on. I also used the opportunity to catch up on the news. The Prince had been busy.

So it turned out that after my kidnapping, Estoc made his grand reappearance in the NSR. He attended his own funeral according to the pundits, along with two score of guards loyal to him. The way the news spun it was that it was a “risky and unprecedented upheaval”, with all of the focus being played up on the grand re-entrance and not a single question asked about the how of it all. How did Estoc survive his supposed assassination attempt? Where was he when he was missing all this time? Nope! For all the coverage, no one asked a single obvious question. Instead, everypony just wanted to replay the same footage of two dozen guards kicking in the door of the Morningstar Grand Chapel and Estoc running his chief advisor through with his very real, and very sharp ‘decorative’ saber. Thirty-seven ponies had been tried and executed for high treason within one week. More were being indicted. The local news was already calling him the ‘Blood Prince’.

It soured my milk to think that I had pretty much enabled this. But then again, they started the fight, so maybe they deserved it? Call it karma, if you want, but I wasn’t sure if I supported this kind of house cleaning. Still, I was in no position to judge, really. I didn’t know what the laws of Estoc’s corner of the NSR were, beyond that the Houses each governed themselves. The word on the news was that Estoc was taking flak for his brutish actions from the Major Houses. The word also said that he took it with a cavalier, driven attitude, and Luna help the pony that got in his way. That didn’t make it any easier to swallow, though.

Aside from the news on Estoc, I also tried searching for any mentions of mysterious disappearances, and was met with a very concerning lack of results. The media was conspicuously silent, and with what I already knew about my own nation, it was enough to kill what little appetite I had left.

I left with Tex for Fritter’s home just a little after that.

*****

When I arrived at Fritter’s place, it was just before noon, and after a quick exchange of messages with Jess I decided to bring lunch along with me. Tex kept track of the orders. I stood for a few awkward minutes in front of Fritter’s door with a couple bags of sandwiches floating in my WAND’s TK, until Jess answered the buzzer and let me in. I walked with Jess into the main living area. The room was something of a mess. Tools littered the coffee table as Tick once again coached Nutmeg through the disassembly of something that looked suspiciously like a spiderbot, while Fritter sat in front of his TV stand, busy fiddling with some cables that he had jury rigged into an adapter for the holo. Nearby, Pearl served tea to the other guests. She smiled at us graciously as we passed the kitchen, but I couldn’t help notice the dogged hitch in her step, or the bags under her eyes almost disguised by a layer of expertly applied makeup.

“Horizon’s here, Fritter, we’re good to start.” Jess called.

Fritter’s head popped up, one ear swivelling in our direction before the rest of his head followed. A wide grin broke out on his face as he spotted us. “Ah! There you are! I’m just finishing up here myself so we should be able to get things started. Is Tex with you?”

“You bet!” Tex replied through the sound system, her shifting purplish form suddenly materializing out of the holo projector. “You have no idea how excited I am to try this! I’ve done lots of simulations, read up on some modern cryptographic techniques, I even made a few tools to record my progress to see if I can make it better!”

Fritter blinked, staring at the projection of a small unicorn filly now eagerly bouncing on his tv stand. “Wow, you are really into this aren’t you?” he his eyes tracking her bounce.

“Of course! Now hurry up and hook it up! I wanna get to cracking!” Tex replied cheerfully.

Fritter chuckled, regaining some of his pep. “Right, give me just a sec and I’ll be right back.”

Getting to his hooves, Fritter disappeared down the hallways and started rummaging through his room. A bang and yelp followed, drawing Jess’ attention as Fritter finally emerged from his bedroom, cradling an odd looking metal device in his forelegs while he flapped the rest of the distance. I looked the object over, tracing the weird device with my eyes. It looked more like a platform than anything else. An indentation sat in the center with several focusing crystals arranged in a two concentric circles around it. The rest of it looked as if it used to be mounted on something, like somepony had ripped it out of something else judging by the stray wires. “So... how does it work?” I asked.

Fritter set the device on the small tv stand next to the holo. “I’ll need to hook it up a little bit first,” he said as he started plugging things into his laptop, “Then I’ll need your Tex to bypass the security,” he paused and smiled at the filly eagerly prancing on his TV stand. “Assuming she’s still up for it, of course.”

The her response was thunderous causing everypony nearby to wince. Every speaker in the room resounded with a singular, almost layered voice, “Of course!” Tex cheered. “Hurry up and hook it up already! I can’t wait to get started!”

Fritter finished hooking the wires from the into his laptop, snickering while he worked. With a smart tap on the keyboard, he turned back to me and said, “Alright, that should do it. Give it a try.”

“On it!” Tex said cheerfully.

It’s hard to say exactly what happened next. I’m tempted to say nothing at all, since that’s what it looked like, but I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the case either. All the holos had it wrong. Hacking wasn’t a fancy bit of flashy high speed information flowing across the screen with rapid keypresses. No. It was a command prompt on Fritter’s screen, doing something short, quick, understated, and ruthlessly efficient. From my perspective, it was almost mundane. The whole process took less than a minute.

“And done!” Tex suddenly declared. It was then that information started scrolling across the screen, in much the same way it did on my WAND when I was reviewing system reports. “Wow, there’s a lot of data here.”

“Well? What is it?”

“Just a second! I’m sorting through it. Organization is important after all! Let’s see...it looks like...some video files and some audio files. It also has a few text reports too. I could play some of the videos if you want, though I couldn’t really tell you what is in them without watching them first.”

I looked at Fritter. He shrugged.

I ignored him. “What’s the last used file?” I asked Tex.

“Hmm, let’s see, the record shows that it’s video from one of the hallway cameras at some research facility. I think it’s probably security footage. Want to give it a shot?”

“Sure, play it,” I said with a smirk. Whatever it was it couldn’t have been that bad.

The room darkened as the holo lit up, an old unstable feed from a video camera materializing in the space above coffee table. My smirk fell. The speakers exploded with noise.

It was a color feed of a corridor, but the colors were distorting. Black smoke obscured most of the hallway as an uncontrolled fire burned in the corridor, the black outlines of ponies thrashing in the blaze, screaming, running, and dying.

“Stop!” Fritter yelled. Immediately the image froze. An image of a screaming mare stumbling over still, burning corpses occupied the screen, her coat charred black and her face white with terror.

“Nutmeg, go to your room.” Fritter said.

“But dad! It’s just a scary movie? right?” The filly complained.

“Go to your room!” Fritter ordered.

“But you always let me watch scary movies before!” she argued.

“Go to your room! Now!” Fritter barked.

Nutmeg rolled her eyes, “Ugh. Fine.”

The filly stormed down the hall, disappearing behind one of the side doors and kicking it after it closed.

Fritter scowled and muttered something under his breath I couldn’t quite catch.

“Well…that was...not what I was expecting,” Jess remarked. “I mean I’ve seen crime scenes before, but this is…” she trailed off.

Tickintime sat in mute silence, staring wide eyed at the image and looking ill.

“As fun as it would be to watch a bunch of ponies burn to death over and over again, could we, you know, not?” Nightshade said. Even he looked perturbed.

The image disappeared, replaced by Tex’s purple filly avatar. “Sorry about that everypony. Here, let me try to find something that’s…less on fire.”

Tex went quiet as she scanned through the database. Her little avatar tilting her head this way and that as she browse until she stopped and literally brightened a moment later. “OOH! This one looks like it’s from a researcher!” she said. “Hold on! I’m gonna play it.”

Her avatar disappeared, replaced instead by an image of a middling green earth pony in a white labcoat and thick rimmed glasses. He blinked at the camera, twisting his head from side to side as he examined something behind our field of view.

“Is this thing on? Maybe? Oh! Yes, there we go. I’ll definitely have to cut that bit out later.”
His voice was weathered with age, yet holding a sort of dignified tone of somepony who knew they were smart, and was not afraid to tell somepony else they weren’t.

He coughed, “Ahem.”

“My name is Doctor Earl Grey. Normally I don’t keep these kinds of logs, but protocols are protocols and logging my findings in this manner is apparently mandatory for all of the research staff. Bloody idiots. I mean, why couldn’t I just write a detailed report? It would definitely be more useful. The uppity ups could run their search programs and filter out all the useful information and I don’t have to stand here futzing with some stupid piece of technology. I swear, If I have to waste all of my damn time in front of a camera I’m going to go insane before the month is out. I have enough on my plate as is, with all of the reports I’m already making.

He sighed, “Whatever. Might as well do this properly,” he muttered.

“Doctor Earl Grey, bioscience division, year of their Majesties, twenty-five, forty-nine, equestrian calendar. August seventh, sixteen thirty-eight hours, station time.

“Today marks my first day stationed at a remote research facility whose official name eludes me. I am assuming the facility is probably an imperial secret, seeing as I signed a veritable mountain of paperwork when I was first assigned. They flew me out here on a shuttle and never bothered to tell me where here is! But, the work seems innocuous enough so who am I to complain. I have been assigned to work alongside the genetics team in providing insight and synthesizing treatments for whatever the hell they’re doing in lab one.”

The doctor shook his head, and then smiled. “All I know is that I have a fully functional lab with the most cutting edge technology I’ve ever seen. Honestly, I feel like a colt in a candy store right now. I get all this equipment, and it’s all mine to use as I see fit! I couldn’t be happier! And in service to the crown at that! It’s got me wondering if all that work I put in on developing new treatments in synthetic biology paid off after all!

“They’ve given me all of today to set up. I’ll be beginning my real work early tomorrow, after I meet with the facility director to receive my first assignment. Here’s hoping he’s not too much of an imbecile. As much as they try, most of these bureaucratic dolts couldn’t navigate their way through an elementary school reader, much less a detailed scientific report. Though, I suppose this is one of the hidden costs of possessing knowledge, as if the education loans weren’t enough. Regardless, I have a lab and time to use it! Win for me! I will have more to report tomorrow. End of Log.”

The holo flashed as the video concluded, replaced again by Tex’s filly avatar. Tex looked ecstatic “That was awesome! Real ponies from my time! Well, sort of… I’ve been around the block somewhat.” Tex blinked, “Uh, whoops! Looks like there’s more!” Tex disappeared once again as the holo switched scenes.

Doctor Grey appeared once more, this time with an added, frantic twitch in his left eye.

“Doctor Earl Grey, biochemistry division, year of their Majesties, twenty-five, forty-nine, Equestrian Calendar. August eighth, zero eight hundred hours, station time.

I have just learned that all of these recordings are being reviewed by the facility director, who is, in fact, not an imbecile, and is actually a highly intelligent and sharp-minded individual, who is also very pretty, and is perfect in every conceivable sense. End of Log.”

“Are they all like this?” I asked. Listening to somepony drone on and on about their daily lives wasn’t exactly something I was looking forward to.

“I dunno. Probably?” Tex replied. “There are quite a few here, let me just skim through the data and I’ll highlight the interesting ones. Not all of them are by the same author either. I’m seeing multiple researchers on file, as well as security feeds where it doesn’t look like everypony’s…dying. Uh…let me try another one.”

The feed changed, displaying the same earth pony, this time looking a little more put together, if a little worn out from a long day of work.

“Doctor Earl Grey, biochemistry division, year of their Majesties, twenty-five, forty-nine, Equestrian Calendar. August fifteenth, seventeen hundred hours, station time.

He adjusted his glasses.

“I’ve decided that the best time to make these logs is at the end of my shift. This way I can summarize the day’s findings without interruption. Well, almost without interruption. The director still drops in now and then to check if I’ve gone back to the barracks early.” The researcher grumbled something that didn’t translate through the microphone.

He shook his head. “Whatever. I have finally finished calibrating my new equipment and I am ready to begin my duties. I also have my first project. They need me to modify some sort of chemical stabilizer for their project, although I haven’t delved too deeply into the paperwork yet to see exactly what they’re needing. Why their existing stabilizer doesn’t cut it is anypony’s guess, but if all they want from me is to reinvent the wheel, then by Celestia I’ll give them their damn wheel. Maybe I’ll use the project requirements for some late night reading tonight. I have been getting a little tired of Tolls Toy after all.

“How is this relevant?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m trying! Okay?” Tex replied. “Here, try this one.”

The holo flashed again as next video came up, displaying a significantly more haggard Earl Grey, who seemed both outraged and terrified at the same time.

“Researcher Earl Grey, biochemistry division, year of their Majesties, twenty-five, forty-nine, Equestrian Calendar. August twenty-first...Oh, fuck it.

The doctor gritted his teeth. “All these ponies are mad! I got a look at what they’re doing in lab one today… I… It’s… What the fuck are we doing here?! Foals?! We’re experimenting on foals?! It’s barbaric! I refuse to believe that this facility is operating under the celestial crown! I don’t know what the fuck they’re doing with these children, but the moment I opened my mouth to protest was the one that security locked me in my laboratory for twelve fucking hours! This is madness! And the genetic stabilizers…I…stars. What the fuck do they need the stabilizers for?!”

Tex didn’t play the next video.

“Uh, Tex? Are you okay in there?” I asked.

She blinked. “What? Oh, I’m fine it’s just… I don’t recall ever hearing about this facility when I was with Celestia. She would never condone something like that!”

“Maybe it was some kind of research hospital?” Tick offered.

“A top secret hospital?” Nightshade replied, “doubt it.”

“More than likely this researcher was tricked,” Jess said. “I’ve seen reports of some college students disappearing after answering some job postings, who is to say the same didn’t happen here?”

“Or, our venerated Sun goddess wasn’t as innocent as history painted her,” Nightshade replied.

“But it can’t be real! I was with Celestia for longer than I can even remember and I’ve never even heard of this facility before!” Tex said.

“Yeah, but you’ve already pointed out that you can’t remember some of your earliest memories because of some virus or something. How do you know it didn’t actually happen and the memory just got deleted?” Tick offered.

“But that’s not a fair question! How could I prove that I didn’t know something in the past when I have no way of checking?”

Tick shrugged, “I dunno, but just because it isn’t fair doesn’t make it invalid.”

“Ugh… Fine! I’m just gonna play the next one,” Tex said.

Doctor Grey reappeared. If before he had the look of righteous indignation, now he just looked defeated. His mane was disheveled and ratty,like he hadn’t brushed in days, and his glasses sat askew on his face. He took a breath, swallowed, and began speaking.

“Celestia visited the facility today. She stopped by my lab to see how my research was progressing. We had a nice conversation over two cups of Earl Grey tea. I don’t know if she was making a point of it or what. Fuck... I-I don’t even know what to think anymore. She asked me so many questions about my work. What I was doing, how the stabilizers were coming. And then of all the nerve she even told me that the foals were counting on me! What… what kind of monster am I working for?! This is wrong! This whole place is wrong! I never signed up for this!”

The recording abruptly stopped and Tex’s avatar once again replaced it while she processed the information like a pony in the headlights of a very large vehicle. The shimmer of her color started shifting from purple to be something just shy of blue.

“That...what?!” she said, her mouth hanging open. “Celestia actually visited?! T-That can’t be right! I was with her the whole time!”

“You weren’t when we found you,” I said.

“T-That’s different!” Tex replied.

“How so?” Tick replied, “I mean if you were separated from her then, who is to say you weren’t separated from her before. Maybe you were turned off so you wouldn’t?”

“But I can’t deactivate! I don’t have a sleep function!” Tex scowled. “No! I refuse to believe that Celestia was behind this. Maybe the foals were sick or maybe they needed special treatment for something.”

Tickintime looked thoughtful. “For gene therapy?” she asked, “I mean it’s plausible, I guess, but most medical research facilities do extensive studies before moving to testing on ponies.”

Nightshade chuckled.

“So maybe it’s for the greater good?” Jess offered. “Not that I’m comfortable with the idea of their choice of test subjects.”

“That research station sounds like a government black site,” Nightshade said, “If they’re developing anything there, I doubt it would be for the greater good. I bet it would be something closer to a bioweapon.”

“And testing it on foals?” I replied. “I don’t think any pony could stay sane if they had to do that. And even it they did, I don’t think Celestia could be that evil.”

“She’s not evil!” Tex whined.

“That researcher certainly didn’t think so,” Nightshade responded.

“Maybe it was an impersonator!” Tex said. “Maybe it was like a changeling or something!”

Jess shook her head, “Not likely. Something like this would have pretty high security if we go with the black-site theory. They would catch a fake pretty much instantly. Not to mention, changelings were linked pretty closely to the crown if I recall my history correctly. Estoc would know more.” Jess hummed for a moment. “Hmm, Come to think of it I’m pretty sure he would kill to get his hooves on this information.”

Fritter smiled widely, “I like the way you think, Jess.”

“This conversation is making me uncomfortable,” Tex complained.

“Well, consider too that we don’t have the full info on whatever this project was either. We’ve only got the one doctor’s viewpoint, ” Fritter said, and then looked thoughtful, “Tex, are there any logs from the other researchers there? Maybe some working on the project?”

“I can look. Give me a few.” Tex replied, seemingly grateful for the change in topic. A couple of seconds went by before she chimed, “Found one! Well... I think so, anyway. It’s around the same timeframe.”

“Play it, maybe we’ll get some answers,” I said.

“Waaay ahead of you,” Tex replied.

The holo flashed and Tex disappeared again. Instead of Doctor Grey, The projection showed a unicorn, a middling aquamarine mare with a dispassionate stare that, even through the holo, made me feel supremely uncomfortable. Her voice was flat as she droned into the camera.

“Researcher Jade Vial, genetics division, year of their majesties, twenty-five forty-nine. August sixteenth, sixteen hundred hours.”

She sighed. “Today marks yet another dreadfully unproductive day. Doctor Grey has continued to drag his hooves in developing the stabilizer we need to make the changes stick, and I am getting increasingly irritated at wasting days running paperwork for the director simply because she thinks we need something to do in the meantime.”

“I don’t think Doctor Grey properly understands just what it is we’re trying to accomplish here, even after we answered his poorly veiled probing questions as plainly as we possibly could. I mean, honestly! How is anypony supposed to get any work done when some nosy old coot keeps bumping their nose into places it doesn’t belong?”

“I tried to reason with the stallion, but he doesn’t listen! He just keeps going on and on about the experiments and painting us as demons just because we have to do live testing.”

“I mean, while yes, some of what we’re researching in this division doesn’t sit well with me either, but think of the lives it could save! Why can’t he understand that this is for the greater good?”

“And point for Jess,” I announced. Nightshade laughed.

“See? Not evil!” Tex cheered. “Next one.”

“Researcher Jade Vial, genetics division, year of their majesties, twenty-five forty-nine. August twenty ninth, sixteen hundred hours.

“I had another spat with Doctor Grey today. This time I caught him spending time with the patients in their dormitory after hours. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to tell him to stop. The patients have enough stress as is. And do you know what he was doing? Reading. Reading to foals. I’m not sure if I should be proud of him or annoyed. While it doesn’t seem to be doing them any harm, I’m worried that it may affect the results of the conditioning. The princess wants these ponies to have a very specific mindset once this project succeeds. We can’t have some random earth pony mucking it up simply because he felt bad!”

She sighed. “I brought up my concerns with the director, but she as usual she just blew me off. The most I got out of her was ‘Keep up the hard work, Jade.’ before she went and buried her nose back into her damn paperwork. At least Doctor Grey finally got the first round of stabilizers synthesized. And low and behold, they worked! At least…mostly. We only lost one of the foals this time around. And that means we have an entire batch of subjects to continue the program with. Hopefully now we won’t have any more setbacks.”

“Um…still not evil?” Tex laughed nervously as she reappeared.

“Oh, I dunno, that sounded pretty ominous to me,” Nightshade chided.

“Not listening! Next one!” Tex replied. “This should really prove it!”

The field cleared, and Doctor Vial appeared once more, only this time, changed. Vial looked like her coat had become six shades lighter. Any pretense at professionalism was long gone, replaced by a mix of fear and desperate contrition. She swallowed, keeping down something that I suspected was bile.

“Doctor Grey was right…we really are monsters. We…oh gods...We were so close. That poor foal. Even with the suppressors on maximum the...he j-just couldn’t control it! I-I’ve never seen magic overload so bad in my life! He just…vaporized! I…I think I’m going to go lie down now.”

“Well that was brief and cryptic,” Nightshade said after the recording had finished. “Are you sure there isn’t more to this one? Tex?”

“Hey, you try working with thousand year old records!” Tex replied. “I didn’t record these things, I just play em. Besides…I’m not sure if I want to hear more.”

Tex sighed mirthlessly. “I’ll just...do the thing.”

Doctor Vial appeared again, more composed, but less like herself than in any previous recording. I could hear the defeat in her voice. “Doctor Jade Vial, genetics division, year of their majesties, twenty-five sixty. January seventh, sixteen hundred hours.”

She took a long, shuddering breath.

“The project is a complete failure. We received the shutdown order from Princess Luna herself, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anypony more livid. I was afraid she was going to just kill us all right then and there for what we’ve done. When we explained whose authority we did it under...her coat…it just—It was like it started sucking all of the light away in the room. I’m…off topic, excuse me.”

She swallowed. “While we were able to force the intended effect, the result was too much for the subjects. Only two survived, the foals…well… more like ponies now. They’ve been here for so long I don’t think they remember anything outside the facility any more, not that they could ever leave.”

“We’ve had them under class-S suppressors twenty-four seven, and even then, the surge is putting them in excruciating pain. The healing is working as intended, but the strain is breaking their bodies down just as quickly as it sews them back up. I can’t imagine just how much pain they’re going through right now. If this goes on for much longer it’s going to break them. Gold Foil is already showing warning signs of dementia, and I doubt Silver is far behind. Neither of them can recall anything about themselves anymore, even in the rare cases when we can get them stabilized. All do is now is scream. We’ve tried using null stones to augment the suppressors, but all that really accomplished was to give us all hornaches. None of the researchers staff can channel enough magic to use the stones inside the suppression field, and we’ve been through all of them, myself included.”

“Doctor Grey came up with an idea for a final solution. It’s a long shot, but we think it might work. If it works it will help little Filligree and Foil to move outside the suppression field…or…or it might kill them. At this point I’m not sure which would be worse. Either it works, or we’ll have to let them...burn out.”

The doctor slowly shook her head, “We’re all going to hell for this…all of us.”

The feed ended. Tex’s avatar reappeared in the holo. She wasn’t smiling. “That’s...the last relevant entry, at least before the security footage that we watched,” Tex said softly.

“Well, I will agree with the late captain. That was disturbing,” I said.

“I’m suddenly questioning my history classes,” Tick said numbly.

“Tex, are you sure you don’t remember a facility like that one?” I asked.

Tex shook her avatar’s head, “No, never. I was with Celestia wherever she went.I don’t ever remember visiting that facility and I don’t think it even existed on any of the books.”

“And yet she visited. Clearly you didn’t know her as well as you think,” Nightshade said.

“Maybe it was a changeling?” Tick offered.

Jess shrugged. “Who knows at this point. Estoc might be able to tell us more, but…you know. I still can’t believe he took off like that.”

Jess stopped for a moment, thinking. “I wonder if the place is still around?”

I scoffed. “Yeah, let me just add that to my to-do list. I’ve had enough poking around ancient wrecks to last me a lifetime. Besides, the battleship captain made it pretty clear that the facility was pretty much gone by the time they investigated it.”

“It still makes you wonder,” Jess said.

And wonder I did. It wasn’t like I had anything immediate on my plate anyway.

I made a noise that I won’t describe before finally saying, “Hey, Fritter…did the captain’s tablet have any coordinates for that place? I remember the Captain gave it a number or something, so it should have at least been in his copy of the blackbox data.”

Fritter blinked. “You know…I don’t know. I could check, probably, but right now I’m a little busy with the murders.”

I nodded. “When you have time, then.”

“I bet Estoc would pay for that information,” Tick piped in. “As long as I’ve known him he’s always been on his little crusade for information on the Celestial Twins. He could probably tell us if it’s real or not. And pay for it too. He’s a lot of things, but he’s not stingy when it comes to that topic.”

Fritter flashed a tired grin, “Well, if you’re going to be so persuasive, I’ll work it into my schedule.”

*****

The rest of that day went by in a blur. I had drinks with the tower boys again. Fortune whistled at my luck and the three congratulated me on surviving yet another harrowing escapade. They loved the story. But at my insistence, the three agreed not to spread rumors. Spitshine couldn’t stop gushing over my wings. Apparently he was something of a cybernetics hobbyist in his spare time. Not a very good one, according to his own testimony, but enough that he knew the make and model of what I had was very impressed. I went home later in the night, spirits improved. If I was going to carry this scar for the rest of my life, I would at least do it knowing that other ponies thought it was cool. Well, for non-pegasi anyway.

It was sometime later, after we had all gone our separate ways for the night that Jess found me just outside the door to my apartment.

“I looked over the files,” Jess said.

“When?” I said as I keyed the door control. The door slid neatly open and I stepped inside.

“While you were in the hospital,” she answered, following me. “I didn’t have anything to chase at the moment so I took some time to look them over on my ship in private—pretty interesting stuff.”

I waited for the door to close before I responded. “What did you think?”

She took a deep breath and exhaled. “I’m in, but I want to hear his take on the whole thing. If you’re right, and he is an assassin, then I want to know who he is working for. That said, we’re going to need a plan for when we confront him, and that means we’ll need to coordinate with Fritter for the take down.”

I nodded, feeling relieved. “Thanks for understanding, Jess. When do you think we’ll be ready?”

Jess thought for a moment and then looked me at me with deadly seriousness. “Tomorrow.”

42% Remaining...

Author's Note

Hoy this one was a doozy. Writing this was hard, both on a mental and physical level. I'm still down with sciatica, but my condition worsened, so most of my time has been spent wigged out on painkillers while I wait for a surgery date to be set. I wish I could say just when they're going to get back to me with that. You never quite appreciate just how much harder it is to write until you've had to do so from a supine position. But enough of my whining.

Chapter 25 is here! And boy is it a lunker. It used to be chapter 24, actually, but I ended up gutting out portions of it in order to Frankenstein it into the current one. There was one scene in here that I had to cut and modify because I decided that Estoc's business couldn't wait any longer. It made no sense to me that someone of his standing would wait two weeks for some random spacer to wake up, not when he had business to take care of, anyway. He was originally in the scene where they were watching the footage from the cube. Cutting him out sucked, because there was some great banter between he and Nightshade that I wanted to keep somehow but it just didn't work out.

So yeah, chapter 25. I hope you all enjoy it! And thanks for sticking with me for so long!

25.5 - Home Movies

$load youaskedforit -l -s -pv
Parsing footage from source.
.
..
…
Done

WARNING: FILE CORRUPTED. EXTRACT ANYWAY? Y/N
$y

WARNING: EXTRACTING A CORRUPT FILE MAY CAUSE DAMAGE TO YOUR SYSTEM CONTINUE? Y/N
$n

Extraction aborted.
$gdbsr profile -n -lx -e youaskedforit -o >> safetyfirst
$
$cat safetyfirst | supgrep “ERRMSG:”

System returned::: “ERRMSG: the video codec for the current file is corrupt.”
$load -l -s -ao -u youaskedforit

Parsing audio from source.
.
..
…
Done
$./SANDBOX << youaskedforit
.
…
……
Files ready. Run? Y/N
$y -a

Playing all files
Recording dates: unknown

[Audio Only]
*************************************************************
“Good evening, Doctor Grey.”

“Good evening Silver. Are you feeling okay tonight?”

“No.”

“No? What’s the matter?”

“Hurts.”

“Mmm, yes, I suppose it does, and I’m trying my best to make sure that the pain goes away. Have you noticed any improvements since your last treatment?”

“Little bit.”

“Do you feel that it’s continuing to improve?”

“No.”

*sighs* “Well, I suppose that is at least a little progress then.”

“Why can’t you make the pain just go away?”

“It’s...complicated, Silver. This...project, the suppressors negatively interfere with most traditional treatments, I’ve had to design workarounds from scratch, I’m...sorry that It’s not working fast enough.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No, I suppose you don’t. The medicines we’ve been trying don’t seem to work, Silver. I’m having trouble understanding it myself. That’s part of why I’m working here—to help develop your treatments.”

“We’re having another treatment?! Now?! I-I just finished my last treatment a few hours ago! I’ve been good! I promise!”

“I’m not here for a treatment, little Filigree, you can relax.”

“Then...why are you here? I’m supposed to be sleeping. I have school tomorrow morning. The doctors said so.”

“I’ll tell you but first, where is your sister?”

“She’s not my sister.”

*chuckle* “Alright, where is your friend?”

“Asleep. I should be asleep too, but I can’t.”

“Ah, I see, well I suppose we can’t help that then.”

“What do you want?”

“Has anyone ever read you a bedtime story? Silver?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a little thing my parents used to do when I was your age. It doesn’t hurt, I promise. I always felt that it helped me sleep a little better at night.”

“Maybe.”

“Would you like me to read you one?”

“Yes?”

“Excellent, let’s see here. Ah! I know, for tonight we’ll start with a classic.”

“Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria, there once lived six friends...”
*************************************************************

[Audio Only]
*************************************************************
“I don’t see Daisy anymore, Goldie. Did the doctors say what happened?”

“Nuh uh. They all just kept shouting and getting angry.”

“I hope we’re not getting that treatment.”

“I don’t think we will. The doctors were really upset. Maybe we’ll get a break tonight?”

“Maybe. I hope Daisy can come back.”

“...”

“Yeah.”

“...”

“Hey Goldie?”

“Yeah Silvy?”

“I miss Rosewood.”

“Yeah, me too. I miss her jokes.”

*giggle* “Remember the one about the firefighter?”
*************************************************************

[Audio Only]
*************************************************************
“...and that’s how Equestria was made.”

“That story made no sense, Doctor Grey.”

*laughing* “No, I suppose it doesn’t, little Silver.”

“Doctor?”

“Yes, Goldie?”

“Do you ever think we’ll be able to see Equestria?”

“I should certainly hope so. Maybe when this whole business is over we could go there together.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Can I come too?”

“Now why would I ever leave you behind? Of course you can, Silver. So long as it is within my power, I promise you can see it.”
*************************************************************

[Audio Only]
*************************************************************
*screaming*

“Oh, Fuck! The compound’s destabilizing!”

“Again?! Cancel the treatment!”

“How?! She already got the full dose!”

*screaming intensifies*

“Chalice! Administer the an-”
“Way ahead of you director!”

*screaming*

“It’s not working! I...what the hell is this reading?! ”

“Heart rate is two ten and still climbing! I’m trying to tranquilize her!”

*screaming stops*

“She’s flatlining!”

“Fix it!”

“...”

“Oh my stars, oh my stars…”

“Chalice, what happened?”

“Director...I think her heart just exploded.”
*************************************************************

*************************************************************
“...These six friends were very, very special. They were paragons of their times, and through their bonds of friendship saved many, many lives. In fact, they became heroes known by the entire world. But, before they were famous, before the evils and troubles they felled, they were just fillies, just like you.”

“I’m not a filly.”

“Don’t interrupt! Silvy!”

“Ow! Goldie that hurt!!”

“You know, I could stop the story here if you like, since it doesn’t seem to be holding your attention.”

“NO!”

“Alright then, I’ll continue…”
*************************************************************

[Audio Only]
*************************************************************
“Good morning class.”

“Good morning professor Vine.”

“I know some of you have tests to get to, so I’m going to be jumping right into the content. Please bring out your notepads and readers and turn to chapter three. We will be studying pre-renaissance history today.”
*************************************************************

[Audio Only]
*************************************************************
“I hate history class. It’s so boring.”

“At least it wasn’t our turn for treatments today.”

“I hope Rocket will be okay.”

“Me too.”
*************************************************************

[Audio Only]
*************************************************************
“Come in.”

“Director, I have had it up to HERE with Doctor Grey!”

“Oh, here we go again. What is it this time, Doctor Vial?”

“He still hasn’t finished the stabilizers! All I see whenever he’s out of his office is him off reading to the children in the dormitories! Meanwhile, my team has been working our assess off round the clock just to keep the kids from blowing up! Doesn’t he understand that lives are on the line here?”

“Are you saying that Doctor Grey is a bad pony because he reads to children when he is off duty?”

“Well, no but-”

“But nothing, Jade. As long as it doesn’t have a negative on the project I am content to allow it to continue. Celestia knows they need something to distract them.”

“I wouldn’t call on that name, Ma'am, it’s becoming something of an obscenity between the other staffers.”

*sigh* “And rightfully so.”
*************************************************************

*************************************************************
“The first was a pegasus, fast and daring. So fast, in fact, that the the air itself seemed to dance around her, like a lover dances with their mate. In her wake was light and color, inspiring hope in ponies everywhere as her rainbow trail cut across the sky. Her name was Loyalty, the first Element of Harmony.”

“Who names their foal Loyalty? That’s just asking for trouble.”

“Her name wasn’t Loyalty, dufus, it it’s a metaphor.”

“A meta-what?”

“Ugh...why do I even try?”

“Why indeed, should I continue or are you going to keep interrupting?”

“...”

“That’s what I thought. Now where was I? Ah, right. Her name was Loyalty. She was bold and true, holding close everything she cherished, and protected it with every fiber of her being—her friends, her country, her world—all these things she protected, even unto death. By her swift wings, many generations owed her thanks...
*************************************************************

[Audio Only]
*************************************************************
“Oh, fuck, here he comes again.”

“Jade, calm down, it’s not like he’s hurting anything.”

“He’s endangering the project! Don’t think you haven’t seen the way he’s been stalling to keep us from doing our work.”

“Maybe so, but you can’t deny the effect he’s having on the children. This little story time seems to be doing wonders for their mental health.”

“We don’t know that for sure! What I do know is that he poses a risk to the project. We need to succeed here! Failure means the loss of so many more lives!”

“That result is not guaranteed, Jade. There are a lot of things that pose a risk to the project, the only difference is that this one is one we can monitor.”

“I don’t like it. I don’t like it when he obstructs my work.”

“I understand, Jade, I’m frustrated too, but understand also that his job is very different from ours. He doesn’t get instant feedback like we do, his work requires time, would you rather he just sit around his office kicking the floor all day?”

“Yes!”
*************************************************************

*************************************************************
“The second was an earth pony, indominable of spirit. She went about spreading joy and happiness wherever she went. So great was her spirit, that not even the very laws of reality could contain her. Her name was Laughter, the second element of Harmony, and she brought it to all who mourned...“
*************************************************************

[Audio Only]
*************************************************************
“Tumble’s gone. He had an accident.”

“I’m sorry, Silver, I knew you two were close.”

“I hate this, Goldie, I hate this so much! Why do we have to be in pain? Why won’t they tell us?!”

“I don’t know, Silvy. I don’t know.”
*************************************************************

[Audio Only]
*************************************************************
“Let’s see here...yes! Yes! This very good Miss Foil! You’re taking to engineering like a duck to water.”

“It’s just math with application, Doctor Gearshift, and I’ve always been good with math.”

“Well your progress is very promising, now if only your little Filigree shared your interest.”

“His...interests lie elsewhere, Doctor Gearshift.”

“Indeed, the way I heard Doctor Grey tell it is that he had a very keen interest in biology.” *chuckle* “Though I suppose that is common in ponies of his age group.”
*************************************************************

*************************************************************
The third was a unicorn, beautiful and selfless, who gave of herself to all who were in need, “By her, the poor were fed and clothed, and no one who knew her ever experienced want. For by her example, all were humbled and inspired to do likewise. Her name was Generosity, the third element of Harmony...
*************************************************************

[Audio Only]
*************************************************************
“The energy level is rising, Ma'am, eighty-six thaums and rising.”

“Far too low...how is the patient?”

“Stable for now, Ma’am. Should we just call it a day?”

“Almost, let’s hold it here for a few minutes and then shut it down. We need to stretch her limits.”

“Energy spike!”

“Nevermind! Shut it down! Now!”
*************************************************************

[Audio Only]
*************************************************************
“What happened? Tell me we don’t have another dead foal on our hooves.”

“Lying is forbidden, ma’am.”

“Oh, fuck me with the moon.”
*************************************************************

*************************************************************
“The fourth was a maiden, brave, but shy. By her wings she would sing, and nature itself would answer her. In the face of great evil she stood firm, willing to defend, but willing, also, to forgive. Stories tell that she charmed the god of chaos, such was her grace, and when she passed, so great was his mourning that he turned himself to stone—and was never seen again. Her name was Kindness, the fourth Element of Harmony…”
*************************************************************

[Audio Only]
*************************************************************
“It hurts, Goldie, it won’t stop hurting.”

“I know, Silvy, I feel it too.”

“I don’t like the way they keep looking at us. It’s almost like they’re…empty. I hope Doctor Grey gets here soon, they always leave us alone when he’s around.”

“...yes. Yes, they do. Hmm.”
*************************************************************

[Audio Only]
*************************************************************
“Six hundred thaums and rising fast! He’s about to overload the limiter!”

“What...the...fuck?”

“He’s surging! Max the suppressor NOW!

***noise***

“Oh, my stars… oh, my stars...oh what have we done…”

“Damage-” *cough* “Damage report.”

“We lost him, Director.”

“And we were so close…”
*************************************************************

*************************************************************
The fifth was a warrior, honest and discerning. No lies could stand her presence, and through her no deception could remain hidden. She was a rock to those who needed her, and a crushing stone to her enemies. By her the truth was always found, no matter how deviously hidden. Her name was Honesty, the fifth Element of Harmony...
*************************************************************

[Audio Only]
*************************************************************
“What do you want with me, monster?”

*Slap*

“Oh, so you strike me now too? How fitting.”

“What do you know?! All you’ve done is hide away in your lab! I am not a monster! Stop calling me that!”

“What am I supposed to call you then?! How about murderer?! Child-killer?!”

*Slap*

“Shut up!”

“Oh, so is your conscience catching up with you now? Is that it? I never knew you even had a soul, Doctor Vile. Score one for science, I guess.”

“We wouldn’t even have had this problem if it wasn’t for you! Sixteen dead! All because you wouldn’t work fast enough!”

“Do you think what I do is easy, murderer? I can’t just speed my cultures along with a wave of my horn, bitch.”

“Well then you’d better find a way, Doctor, because they’re next.”

“You wouldn’t…”

“We don’t have a choice. They’re last two, and the only ones who have responded well to the treatments.”

“What?! No! Wait! Where are you going?! JADE!”
*************************************************************

*************************************************************
The last was different: Intelligent and wise. Through her many mysteries were solved and the very fabric of the universe was torn open to sate her curiosity. She came about through mysterious means, alive, living, and legendary. With her five friends beside her, she was our people’s greatest weapon against the forces of evil. Her name was Magic, the last of the Elements. And through the bonds with her friends, she transcended…”
*************************************************************

*************************************************************
“Ma’am, I found out why Doctor Edelweiss didn’t report in today.”

“Why do I suddenly feel the need for a stiff drink.”

“Would you pour me one too? I think I need it.”

“Just give me the report.”

“We found him hanging in his quarters, Ma’am. He didn’t leave a note.”

”...”

“You know, Jade, I hope there is a hell. Because Tartarus doesn’t seem like enough for the likes of us.”

*Sniff* “Yes Ma’am. I know.”
*************************************************************

[Audio Only]
*************************************************************
“Sister…what have you done?”

“What we needed to have done, Luna.”

“Needed to? This?! You call this...this atrocity necessary?! HAVE YOU GONE MAD?!”

“Luna, listen to me! We can’t let another disaster like that happen again! I won’t have another Providence!“

“SO YOU WOULD MURDER THESE INSTEAD?!”

“I WILL NOT CONDEMN SIX BILLION PONIES TO DEATH WHILE I CAN STILL DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!”

“WHAT GOOD IS SIX BILLION IF IT MEANS THE DEATHS OF INNOCENT CHILDREN?! WHAT USE IS SALVATION IF THE MEANS DESTROY EVERYTHING WE’VE BUILT?!

“...”

“What are you going to do then? Banish me to the moon like you did ages ago?”

“Banish you? No, sister. I would never dare to soil my moon with a pony like you, much less your team of murderers. I’m putting an end to this right now. And don’t you even dare to talk to me again until you’ve realized the folly of what you’ve done.”
*************************************************************

*************************************************************
“... and our people lived in Harmony, ever after.”

“...”

“That story really sucked, Doctor Grey.”

*laughter* “Well, little Silver, not every story is perfect.”
*************************************************************

[Audio Only]
*************************************************************
“Hey Goldie?”

“Yes Silvy?”

“When this is all done...when they fix us...I wanna leave.”

“...”

“Goldie?”

“Silvy, I have an idea.”
*************************************************************

End of Files.
Closing program.

26 - Traitors

Chapter 26
Traitors
“Anything yet?”
“Nothing. There’s absolutely nothing on any channel, no shows, no news, just…nothing.”
“What the hell is happening at the TV station?”
“I don’t think it’s the stations, I think it’s the grid.”
“You mean like a total shutdown?”
“Yeah. No word in, no word out. Whatever’s going down right now, it’s big.”

- 3376 E.C. -
In the wake of a horrific attempt at genocide and the increasingly brutal responses by the NSR to quell rebellion, the enraged populace of the New Solar Republic storms the capital city and overtakes it. The ruling governmental body is deposed and at great cost. In response to the violent overthrow, the surviving leadership of the NSR lead a retaliatory strike against unarmed civilian centers. This cycle of retaliation continues throughout the year, as news of the attacks continued to spread to other populated worlds, fueling the fires of rebellion on every planet. In a move to press for peace, the gathered peoples of the NSR’s populated worlds declare a vote of no confidence in the remaining leaders of the old regime, asking them to step down peacefully and cease all military action. The appeal is ignored, and the military presses the attack.
Outraged at being forced to fight against their own people, a large portion of the military forces joins the revolution, supplying ships, weapons, and experience to the civilians fighting for independence. By the end of the year, both the NSR capital building and the military’s unified central headquarters are burned to the ground. The period of time known as ‘The Collapse’ begins.
---- ----

I had a hard time sleeping that night. I kept running over scenarios in my head about how the whole thing would go down, and none of them were pretty. Assuming we could even get the drop on Nightshade, we would still have to disable him somehow, and I just couldn’t picture fighting him for any length of time and still coming out alive. Some small, stupid part of my head kept picturing him laughing at us while we tried to knock him down, casually shrugging off our attacks before murdering us violently. The mere prospect of confronting him terrified me to no end, what the fuck would I do in an actual fight?

Drunk on fear and guilt, I tossed and turned in bed, mind racing, driven by the sense of impending wrongness of my plans, and the memories of the things I’d seen him do first hoof. Was I doing the right thing? Jess even agreed with me that he was clearly an assassin, we had no lack of evidence thanks to Fritter, but knowing something about him didn’t make him any less dangerous, and right now we were still on his good side. Was the betrayal worth the risk? What if we were wrong? What if my understanding of the situation was flawed? Knowing me, it was highly likely, and no amount of warm showers could erase the chill seeping into my gut. Whether I liked it or not, Nightshade was one of my companions, somepony who had been with me through thick and thin since the beginning of this shit show, and yet there I was, forcing myself to stare into the bathroom mirror of my little apartment, ruminating on ways to fight him while trying to wipe the guilt off my face. I looked disgusting. I was making a mistake and I knew it. It would be tonight, I told myself at four in the morning, and four-fifteen, and four-thirty. I felt so sick I could hardly eat breakfast.

Only Tex knew what we were planning, but she remained conspicuously silent on the matter. I imagined this whole thing didn’t sit well with her either, and by five o’clock, I finally mustered up the courage to talk to her about it.

“Hey, Tex, you awake?” I said, staring into my half-eaten bowl of cereal. My crunchy oats floated loosely in the bowl. I’d added too much milk.

Yes, she replied. It was short and terse and exactly what I deserved.

“Do you think we’re making a mistake?” I asked, nudging one of the floating oat flakes with my spoon.

You mean about Nightshade? She replied.

“Yeah,” I said.

Yes.

I knew she would say that.

I know you want answers, Horizon, but what you’re doing is wrong. Tex said plainly. All of this cloak and dagger business isn’t the right way to go about this. Why not just ask him!

“Because he would never give me a straight answer if I did!” I replied. “You’ve seen him in action, Tex, he’d never just openly admit to being what he is. Who would? Hell, it’s hard enough just to get a sandwich order from the guy! Much less useful information.”

But why do you need to know? Doesn’t he have a right to a private life as well?

“He kills ponies, Tex,” I replied.

So do you, came her immediate response, and at this point you might as well be complicit with his actions. I’m not naive, Horizon. I know what you’ve done with him. You’ve admitted it to multiple ponies while I’ve been with you. You’re not innocent either. You also didn’t answer my question. Why do you need to know?

“Because he fucking scares me! Okay? I need to know because I don’t want to get shot in the back six weeks down the line just because I stopped being useful to him,” I said.

So your entire reason for this is because you're afraid? Tex replied. I know a few great novels along those lines you know. Something about, oh, governments that are terrified of their people so they invade every aspect of their lives to keep themselves safe. I won’t go into too much more detail, but they don’t end well.

I stewed while Tex continued, I know you’re paranoid of what he’s done, Horizon, and you’re right, I believe he’s guilty too, but this whole thing…it just doesn’t sit well with me! Betraying a friend like this is just...revolting! It’s a crime against friendship!

And there it was, the f-word again.

“What is it with you and your fixation on friendship? Nightshade isn’t my friend,” I said with less conviction than I could muster, “most days.”

I’m not fixated! It’s just...really important to me. And for that matter I’m not letting you change the subject! You have a problem! And Nightshade isn’t the only pony you’ve done this to either! I’m well aware of what you tried to find out about Tickintime! How many more? Are you just going to keep going behind ponies backs and fact checking them? Whatever happened to actually talking to ponies for Celestia’s sake!

“I only check if they give me damn good reason to,” I fired back, feeling a heat in my chest rising. “You weren’t there, Tex, you wouldn’t understand.”

You’re right, I wasn’t there, Horizon. I was too busy being stuck on a stupid ship for eight hundred years!

When I didn’t respond,Tex sighed. I’m not going to say this isn’t a difficult situation, but is this really the only way? How do we know you’re not wrong?

“That’s the whole reason we’re doing this Tex, to get our facts straight,” I said.

Well, then I hope for your sake that losing your friend is worth it, Horizon, because that’s exactly what is going to happen if you go through with this. Tex replied.

Squeezing my eyes shut I said, “I know, Tex. And I’d be lying if I said I’m not getting cold hooves about this, but there isn’t an if at this point. Jess is already doing the groundwork,” I said. “Whether or not either of us want it, this is happening.”

That doesn’t mean I have to like it. Tex replied. Especially since you know this is a mistake.

“I thought we agreed to lay off the mind reading.” I replied.

I don’t need to. With the way your emotions are fluctuating, it’s not difficult to put two and two together.

“No, I suppose not,” I said, finally dropping the spoon in the bowl.

Getting up from my tiny dining table, I took my food into the kitchenette and washed the rest of my meal down the sink.

*****

I had most of a day to kill before Jess said everything would be ready. And with my nerves the way they were, my imagination went wild. I couldn’t stop. I started imagining all the new and creative ways the entire situation could go sideways, with each iteration putting me in a yet darker mood. Thankfully my circle of doom came to an abrupt halt when I received a ping on my WAND.

Incoming video communications request. Please visit your nearest M-Net terminal to accept.

I blinked. Who the hell would be calling me at this hour?

I checked the message again, looking for either a source or sender, and came up empty.

Hey Tex, are you seeing this thing? I thought at her.

Hmm? Oh! A message! Tex replied. “Yeah, I see it, why?

Who’s sending it? I asked her.

The sender isn’t attached to the message, either It’s anonymous, or the request is coming through a secured line, Tex said. You’ll have to take it to find out.

I frowned, not liking where this was going. Where’s the nearest M-Net terminal?

It’s down the hall to your left, I’ll mark it on your WAND.

Thanks Tex, I replied.

No problem!

I followed her directions to the nearest comms terminal and flicked my bitstick across the reader. Immediately, the terminal unlocked, allowing me to hook my request into the system. I watched the screen as a status message flashed briefly for a few moments before the call connected and I came face to face with one the last ponies I expected to see this morning.

“Ah! Excellent! You’re awake, I was beginning to wonder if I had the time wrong,”
Estoc’s smiling face greeted me through the screen. He looked a lot more princely now that he’d cleaned up. His perfectly coiffed mane seemed to glisten in whatever room he was in, and his stately posture was about as relaxed as I had ever seen him. I don’t know if I could ever imitate his practiced smile.

“Barely, It’s about five in the morning here. How are you today, Estoc?” I replied.

“Exhausted, but alive,” Estoc said. “I’m calling to apologize for my sudden departure after your...incident. My business could not wait any further at that point, although I was very glad to hear that you had survived. You had quite the ordeal.”

“I heard about that business of yours, it was all over the news,” I said, frowning, “They’re calling you the blood prince now. Can’t say I blame them.”

Estoc grimaced. “Well I suppose that was unavoidable given the circumstances. I know many ponies aren’t comfortable with the executions, but in my world they were necessary. I can’t afford to let treason go unpunished or else it may encourage further rebellion.”

My gut twisted just a little bit. “What happened? If I may ask.”

Estoc sighed, “Well, to be blunt, I routed a coup.” he said. “My Chancellor and hoofful of other ponies used my trip into deep space as an opportunity to overthrow my House. They hired the dogs to ambush us along our route and sabotaged our weapon systems. Our mutual friend was able to track down the ponies responsible through their network. You have to understand, Horizon, that I had to strike them now before they could get a hoofhold and execute them in as public a manner as possible.”

“Still, a your own funeral?” I asked

‘What can I say? Timing is everything—and I have a taste for the theatric now and then,” the prince replied, and then sighed, “although too late by far. I don’t know if you heard, but I’m the Lord of House Morningstar, now. The Chancellor killed my father.”

“I’m, uh, sorry for your loss,” I said.

Estoc shook his head, “It’s alright, I never really had a connection with him. I’m certain I saw my tutors more.”

“You’re starting to sound like Tick,” I said.

Estoc chuckled, “Well, we do come from somewhat similar backgrounds, seeing as she is the closest thing to nobility in the Core—even if she doesn’t act her station. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t despise my father, I just never really...loved him. Or he, me, for that matter. We always lived with a sort of quiet distance between us. I wasn’t so much his son as much as I was his vessel to carry the family name.”

That’s awful! Tex complained.

“That must have made for some interesting dinner conversation,” I said.

Estoc laughed, “Hah! Oh, no. We rarely ever dined together. Only at formal functions, and even then, in silence. But enough about that, you’re probably wondering why I contacted you.”

“The thought did cross my mind, yes,” I replied.

Estoc smiled. “I would like to extend to you an invitation to a formal dinner,” he said. “As the new Lord of House Morningstar there will be a feast to celebrate my succession, and I would very much like it if you were all able to attend.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why? I’m not exactly a formal pony, you know.”

Estoc’s smile didn’t falter, “I have ponies who can help you with that, as for the why, you saved my life, you and your friends. It’s the least I can do to show my appreciation, especially since your actions allowed me to do a little housekeeping as well.”

My stomach twisted a little harder. “Yeah, great,” I said. “When is the event?”

“The date is set a week from tomorrow, and I apologize for the short notice, I didn’t hear of your recovery until just yesterday.”

“Fritter?” I asked.

He nodded, “Indeed,” he said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have much to do. I hope to see you at the dinner, Captain Seldat. Please let my seneschal know whether or not you will be able to attend. Your friend should know who to contact.”

“Will do,” I said.

With a nod from Estoc, the line closed and a small, muted beep announced that my bitstick had been charged. I stared at the now blank screen in confusion for a few moments as I puzzled out what had just happened.

I was just invited to a formal event by royalty. Well, pseudo-royalty from what little I knew about the NSR.

Huh. Neat.

So Tex, I asked, as I started the walk back to my apartment, what do you know about formal dinners?

*****

Waiting sucks. Even after taking Estoc’s call, I had hardly put a dent into my day. It was still before seven, and as I wore a hole in my apartment’s carpet, it became clear to me that I needed something to clear my head. I was out of the loop. I hated being out of the loop. Jess was organizing her part and simply told me to go be at a place at a certain time tonight. That was easy enough, but spending the fifteen or so hours beforehoof was just mind numbing. So I decided, spur of the moment, that I was going out. I wouldn’t be far from where I needed to be, I just needed to do something to keep me occupied. So why not go shopping? I needed a suit anyway if I was going to attend Estoc’s Dinner.

*****

Guilt shopping, are we? Tex said dryly, I never knew you had it in you.

Shut up. I thought back at her as I strode down the corridor to one of the nearby malls in the commercial district, maybe an hour before anything would actually open. As I strode out of the hallway and into the main plaza I saw a lot of ponies at the control pads near their shop front doors, opening up their stores for the business day. Some of the employees casually glanced in my direction as I strode in, dismissing me as less important than their job, although a few of them did double takes when they spotted my wings. The tech shop owner’s face lit up like filly on Hearth’s Warming when he spotted me, his actions becoming frenzied as he tried to open as quickly as possible for the ‘big spender’.

Grumbling, I walked past him instead.

I did a fruitless lap around the mall checking shops before I bothered to check a directory. And once I did, I groaned. Only one shop was actually open this early in the morning. Pinkie’s. It was a brand I knew more by reputation than experience. All of the stores were combination outlets, specializing in both baked goods and party supplies—a restaurant and retail store all-in-one. I avoided them, purely on aesthetic. The inside always seemed too cheerful to be palatable to anyone over age ten, but since I pretty much skipped breakfast and no one else was open, I figured I might as well try a pastry or something. So, abandoning my dignity, I stepped inside the shop, secretly glad that no one else was watching. Well, no one on the outside, anyway.

I find it funny how macho you’re trying to look right now, Tex chided as I snuck in through the front door.

You’re Hilarous, Tex. Don’t you have like numbers to crunch or something? Go read a book. I thought back.

Why that’s an excellent idea! Don’t mind if I do. Tex replied. Have fun buying party supplies.

“Have fun buying party supplies,” I mocked under my breath. “Feh.”

Pinkie's was eerily quiet.

Although, considering the time, I suppose that was no realsurprise. I wasn’t even sure when the main clientele of this kind of chain even showed up, but for a place that was always open, I had expected there to be at least someone. But, no. No one was there, or at least no one I could see. The place was obviously open, judging by the way all the chairs had been set up and the neon glow of the open sign hanging in the store window. I had at least expected some bored employee to be manning the cash register, or cleaning the tables. Hell it didn’t even smell like anyone was cooking anything in the back.

“Maybe the staff went home,” I wondered aloud.

I frowned, glancing up and down the shop interior before finally calling out, “Hello? Is anypony there?” Then i noticed the placard standing just inside the doorway.

Please be seated!

A party enthusiast will be right with you!

The message was circled by three differently colored lines and covered in winking smiley faces. I groaned.

“So long, fair dignity, I never knew you.”I muttered before picking the closest booth seat I could find. As the seconds ticked by. I couldn’t help but feel more and more ridiculous.

*POP*
“SURPRISE!”

Never underestimate how high a pegasus can jump when startled. I spent the next minute trying to pry my head out of the ceiling tiles. Spitting out insulation as I finally freed my head from the ceiling, I landed awkwardly on the table and rounded on an earth pony who immediately offended every sense I had. She was offensively pink. Pinker than pink. Ultra pink. And waaay too happy.

“Welcome! You’re the first customer of the day!” the pink menace cheered while hopping in place. She stopped for a moment to gawk at me, tilting her head to one side “Whatcha doin on the table, silly? Tables are for eating, not standing!”

My mouth worked soundlessly as the retort on my tongue made a u-turn. I blinked twice, glanced at the table, and slowly got down into a seat, staring silently at the strange mare in front of me.

The pony started giggle snorting.

“Your face looks funny! So what can I get for ya? Ooh! Wait one second!” In the blink of an eye, the mare dashed off faster than she had any right to. I sat, stunned, waiting only seconds before she was back, holding a still steaming cupcake with a single lit candle on a tiny plate balanced on one hoof.

“H-How?” I started, finally regaining my senses.

“Here you go!” The mare said, sliding the plate in front of me. “And don’t worry about the bill! This one’s on the house!”

“Buh?” I said, looking down at the cupcake in front of me. It was red, probably red velvet or something, decorated with a light, white buttercream frosting with just a touch of pink and cyan mixed into it in little swirls.

I jumped as I heard another pop, although at least this time I managed to remain seated. Confetti and streamers rained from…somewhere, magically avoiding the cupcake in front of me, and instead getting into everything else.

“Are you insane?” I finally asked the mare, chancing a glance at the her cutiemark in case it was something related to schizophrenia. It wasn’t. Unless a party popper with confetti represented insanity.

“Nope!” She cheerfully replied. “I just make sure every customer has a first experience that they’ll never forget!” My name is Pinkie Pie! What’s yours?”

...no way. Tex said, awed. They still exist?!

“P...Pinkie Pie?” I numbly replied.

“Yupperoonie!” The mare replied, then stopped, looking thoughtful for a split second before saying, “Well, not technically Pinkie Pie, technically I’m Pinkie Pie the two hundred and fifty-sixth! Because my mom was Pinkie Pie the two hundred and fifty-fifth! Pinkie Pie is actually my great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great g-”

She’s going to keep going, isn’t she, Tex asked.

“-great great great great great great great great great great great great great great g-”

This was a mistake. I replied.

“-great great great great great great great great gr-”

I needed to stop it. I needed it to stop immediately. So I took the only weapon I had within reach and stuffed it in her mouth.”

“RrrbmmmppfffrrrmrrmmmMMmMmmm!” She swallowed. She swallowed the entire damn cupcake, wrapper, candle, and all. “Tasty! So as I was saying-”

“NO!” I shouted, horrified.

“What? I was just going to say that I saw how you walked in all grumpy grump and I thought I’d get you a cupcake to cheer you up! Because you look like a pony that always needs cheering up!”

Did she just insult me? I thought.

I can’t tell. Tex replied.

“So what can I get for ya?” Pinkie asked.

“Uh…” I started.

“Oh wait! I forgot the menu! Be right back!” She disappeared. That’s the only way I could describe it, one second she was there, and the next she wasn’t. All I did was blink.

Should we just leave? I think we should leave. I thought.

No, don’t. She’ll find you. Tex replied. They always do.

How do you know? I thought back.

She’s a Pinkie, that’s how, came Tex’s response.

I don’t follow. I replied.

The menu is here. Tex said.

“Here ya go! Super distracted grumpy grump!” Pinkie announced, plopping a paper menu in front of me. I reached for the menu, keeping a cautious eye on the pink one for any more movement before reading the line items.

It was all cupcakes. All of it. No exceptions. I decided to just pick one and get it over with.

“I’ll have this,” I said, indicated the least interesting thing on the menu. It was a plain vanilla cupcake, with vanilla frosting.

Pinkie gasped, “NO! Not vanilla! You monster!”

I stared.

“No? Aww, and I thought I could get a smile that time. Alright! One double-vee cupcake coming right up!” The pink one disappeared again. I was beginning to question my sanity. The two may have been related.

She was back within a minute. How was she doing that?

“Here ya go!” She said happily, slipping another cupcake—sans one candle—onto the table before sliding herself into seat opposite me. The mare then plopped both of her elbows on the table and propped up her head while she sat watching me with an expectant and oddly infectious smile.

I was beginning to wonder if the cupcake was poisoned.

This is just all sorts of creepy. I thought at Tex.

Just roll with it, she’s a Pinkie, came Tex’s flat reply.

That really doesn’t explain anything.

I picked the cupcake up with my WAND, turning it over in the air and searching it for traps. As the offending baked good got closer to me, the Pinkie leaned in closer, her smile growing ever more impossibly wide.

Swallowing my pride, I took an experimental nibble.

“Weeeeeeeeell?” Pinkie said, hovering so close to me that I could feel her breath on my face.

t was...good. Mostly. Moist but not too moist, not too hot, but not cold, and just the right temperature to still feel like it had come out of the oven maybe a few minutes ago. Which was impossible because I was fairly sure when I had arrived the ovens were off.

“It’s...uh, good?” I replied, hoping the mare didn’t get any closer to my face.

“YES!” The mare shouted in triumph, exploding out of her seat into the air. Somewhere a firecracker sounded, followed by a burst of yet more confetti and...glitter, there was glitter this time. My flight suit was starting to sparkle. I set my cupcake down just after the mare landed back on the table.

“You must be popular with the foals,” I said, staring blankly at the mare.

“Don’t you know it!” Pinkie replied, sliding back into her seat. “So whatcha thinkin about?”

“Uh...”

“Oh don’t give me that look, I know something’s boggin your noggin. Especially after you came in with that really grumpy look on your face. So what’s up?”

I decided to humor her. “I am about to make what is probably the biggest and last mistake of my life,” I said plainly.

To my shock, the mare’s smile faded. Pinkie looked at me, all of me, her eyes pausing briefly on my wings, and then stopping on my eyes. Slowly her hair deflated.

“You’ve had a bit of a rough time, haven’t ya,” she said solemnly. As she spoke, her hair started to deflate, her puffy mane style settling down into something a little more tame.

I was put off by the sudden transformation. “You could say that,” I said, eyeing her warily.

“So what’s going on? What’s-”

“Why should I tell you?” I replied.

“Because getting it off your chest will probably help you make whatever decision you’re thinking about?”

That was...surprisingly lucid. I found myself suddenly reevaluating the mare in front of me.

“Alright then, suppose for a moment that I had a friend, but my friend did something bad. What would you do?”

The mare looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well what kind of bad is it? Is is like a bad bad or a sorta bad or a not-so bad kinda bad?” she gasped, “Did they steal cookies?!”

Okay, that one got me to chuckle just a little bit.

“The cookies are safe, don’t worry,” I replied with a breathy laugh. The mare breathed a sigh of relief. “It is pretty bad, though, but there’s a lot of uncertainty around it.”

“Did he...hurt somepony?” Pinkie asked.

“Yes. Quite a few ponies, actually, but we don’t know why,” I replied. “So here’s my problem. Another friend of mine is a cop, and she wants to get to the bottom of the problem, but I have another friend who thinks I should let the whole thing drop because I’ll lose my first friend’s, uh, friendship. So I’m being tugged in both directions, and it’s making me nervous, because I was the one who brought it up to my cop friend in the first place.”

“And now you don’t know whether or not it is right to betray a friend by going through with it?” The mare finished for me. “Ooh that’s a toughie. Have you tried talking to your friend about it?”

“Which friend?” I asked.

“The first one! Silly!” she happily replied.

“Well, not really. My friend isn’t the kind of pony to be very straightforward, I’ve found, and I’m not exactly willing to tip them off,” I said. “I’m afraid they’d do something drastic if they knew.”

Pinkie wilted. “Well I’m not sure what to tell you, then. It sounds like you should go through with it, but losing a friend…that’s just the saddest thing ever.”

The mare set her jaw. “I think you should give your friend a chance,” she finally announced. “A careful chance, but a chance. Ooh! Maybe you could grab popsicles afterward! I know a great place to grab popsicles!” She gasped. “I work there! Huh, what are the odds?”

I shook my head, chuckling softly, “Yeah, okay, maybe I’ll do that afterward.”

Her hair shot back to its bizarrely normal, poofy state. “Alrrrright! I’m happy I could help, now if you’ll excuse me I have work to do!”

“Wait, uh, how much for the cupcake?” I said, lifting my glitter ridden dessert off the table with my WAND.

“Oh that? You can have that for free. It was one of the leftovers.”

“Uh, okay then,” I replied, struggling to believe her. How this place stayed in business I could never know.

Wait! Quick! Ask if the other stores are also run by a Pinkie! Tex suddenly interrupted.

“By the way, uh, are… all of these stores manned by ponies like you?”

“What? Oh yeah! My Pinkie cousins run the other ones!” Pinkie happily replied. We have a really really big party every year as a family get together! And I get to see ALL my favorite Pinkies! I like Pinkie Pie the most,” She leaned in, glancing sideways before add in a hushed tone “,but don’t tell Pinkie Pie I said that.”

“How do you tell each other apart?” I asked.

“Easy! We use our middle names! Mines Party Popper! Pinkie Party Popper Pie the two hundred and fifty sixth!” It fit, kinda, especially considering the confetti.

Wait...doesn’t the name need to be exact in order to-

Don’t question it, Horizon, Tex said. That’s a very long and dark road, trust me.

“Well, okay then. Have a good day, Miss Pie.”

“Will do!”

I left that business feeling very confused. At least the cupcake was good. Well, after I cleaned off all the glitter anyway.

*****

The morning was in full swing by the time I left Pinkie’s. A small herd of ponies had started filling the cramped hallways serving as the mall, and the temptation to pony watch was strong. The cupcake had settled my stomach, and so I found a nearby bench to simply sit for a while.

I sat. I grumbled. The bench was hard, harder than I thought it would be, but then again what more could you expect from Earth Pony utilitarianism. I took a deep breath and squeezed my eyes shut, ignoring the insistent pinch of my bones rubbing against the hard plastic and began shoving aside my feelings one by one until I could simply focus on the why of them.

I had too little information about tonight’s sting, of that much I was sure. Jess wanted to keep her end of the thing under wraps as much as possible so as to prevent any problems, but she wasn’t the only pony involved, and with the sense of wrongness still churning inside me, I needed more details if I was going to feel confident enough to do this. I knew Fritter had a contact, either someone who knew Nightshade or whoever he really was, but Fritter had been sparse on the information. Maybe he was simply trying to protect his clients in an already shady business, but with Jess involved, something was going to go down tonight regardless. Before that happened, I needed to speak to him.

“Horizon? What are you doing here?” Someone asked. I turned my head cautiously toward the voice, making sure to avoid eye contact.

Tickintime looked at me with a puzzled expression, two bags of electronics parts hovering in her TK. She was wearing the same utility jumper she always wore, and judging by the confused look she was giving me, seemed to be the genuine article.

“What, am I not allowed to go shopping?” I replied, relaxing a little.

Tick shook her head, before stopping and squinting at me, “No it’s...why are you sparkling?”

I blinked, giving my flight suit another once over before spotting another patch of glitter I had missed on my shoulder. I quickly tried to brush it off with a hoof to no avail. I groaned. “It’s glitter,” I said, giving up, “Pinkie’s was the only place open when I got here, and I sorta skipped breakfast.”

Tick snorted, her face scrunching up as she laughed. “You actually went into a Pinkie shop? You? I would have thought you would have rather starved!”

“Well the service could do for a tranquilizer, but the food wasn’t all bad,” I replied.

“Remind me to tell you about the time my dad had them cater my birthday party,” Tick said, giggling.

“Noted,” I replied.

“So...why are you out here? I’ve never known you to be the shopping kind of pony,” Tick said, setting her bags down on the bench next to me.

I shrugged, “I’m killing time while I try to figure out what to do next. I’m also debating whether or not Fritter would be at his stand at the moment, I need to talk to him.” I said, then I nodded to her bags, “what’s in the bags?”

Tick brightened, “Oh, these? These are the last few parts I need to complete a little pet project of mine. I’m just short a couple more things and then I’ll be all set to go.”

Alarm bells were ringing in my head. I tried to smile the sense of impending doom away. “Just don’t blow up the ship,” I said.

“Pssh whatever,” Tick scoffed, “besides since when have any of my fixes actually blown up?”

My reply died somewhere in my throat. The mare had a point.

That seemed to satisfy her. “Welp, I’m off to finish this, see you later, Horizon.” Tick waved and then trotted off, scooping up the bags in her TK along with her.

“Yeah,” I said to myself, suddenly doubtful, “later.”

Wait! Ask her if she can help you get an outfit for the dinner! Tex said.

What? Why?

Because I trust your sense of fashion about as much as I trust a Pinkie in a pastry shop.

Thanks for the vote of confidence. By the way she’s out of earshot. I thought.

What? You...ugh, okay I’m calling her.

What? No! I replied.

Too late! Already done! Tex said smugly.

Is it too late to sell you? I said.

Do you honestly think you could convince me to leave? She replied. By the way, here she comes.

I looked up just in time to see Tex round the corner.

“I hope this is quick, I do have some shopping to finish up,” Tick said as she crossed the remaining distance between us with a somewhat annoyed expression on her face. Her two shopping bags still hovered beside her in her TK.

“Uh,” I muttered, struggling for an out that wouldn’t make me look like a complete idiot. “What did Tex tell you?”

Tick frowned, adjusting her glasses before giving me the stink eye. “Nope, nuh uh. You first.”

I groaned. Dammit Tex. Taking a deep breath, I said, “Tex wants me to ask you for help. Estoc called me this morning and invited me to a state dinner. If I’m going to attend,” I breathed, “I’m going to need a suit.”

Tickintime’s smile sparkled.

*****

Tex, for the record, I hate you, I thought as Tick turned me around in the dressing room door and shoved me back in with yet another pile of dress clothing.

“Nope, try these on, and take off the pants for crying out loud,” she ordered.

“No, the pants are staying on,” I replied, “I don’t want to attract any more attention than I need to.”

“Ugh, but why though? They look hideous with everything! Almost all of these styles are supposed to be front only, I don’t get why you keep turning them down.”

“I have my reasons,” I said, grumpily shutting the dressing room door behind me.

“Yeah, and I get those reasons, but we can always magic up a solution for that you know?” Tick replied from outside, “I mean, it won’t stick for long, but it should last a day or two. I’m sure Estoc has a few ponies on hoof who could help! Just try them on.”

This was the third store we were trying. Apparently the first two didn’t have what we were looking for. Of course part of that was because they only had clothing for earth ponies, but I still hated most of their selection. It was hard enough prying me out of a flight suit, and running around some fancy store with some uppity-up making disparaging remarks on my ‘couture’, was just about the final straw.

I mean come on, it’s a flight suit. It’s meant to be functional, not pretty. Although they do sell pretty ones from time to time. Hell, with the way my life has gone I wouldn’t mind getting one of the armor plated ones like the milsec uses. I’m...getting off track, sorry.

I stopped as I felt one of the suit’s legs draw tight around my left wing, and paused as I looked in the mirror to figure out what went wrong this time. With a string caught in one of the slight wing joints, my wings splayed under the tension, putting me in a weird stationary bank as I helplessly tried to work the damn thing free again.

Rip.

On a side note, dressing room stalls are remarkably great for pounding one’s head against, so long as you avoided the mirror.

Beebeep.

On another note, fuck technology.

“What’s going on? Are you having trouble?” Tick called from outside.

“Oh, you know, I’m just here making unexpected purchases. Everything’s grand,” I replied, at least halting the rhythmic pounding of my skull against plastic.

“Do you need help?” she called again.

I hated this. I hated shopping. I hated my stupid, no good wings. And I hated the fact that I was still going to put up with it, because fuck it, I was not losing this war today. I took a long draw through my nostrils and let it out slow.

“I’m fine,” I said, less to Tick and more to myself. “I’ll just be a minute.”

I set the coat down, it was a lost cause at this point, unless you wanted to just glaze over the new baseball sized hole in the armpit. I didn’t like that tux anyway.

I heard hoofsteps outside the stall door. They were followed by a knock.

“Iz der a problem monsieur?” the attendant asked. “Ve just registered a purchase from zis stall.”

I wisely took a moment to calm myself, breathing slowly until I could at least manage a civil reply. “Do you have anything in pegasus?” I asked her. “Because I’m pretty sure you do now.”

We were politely asked to leave.

The time wasn’t completely wasted, though. At the next store we managed to find something that Tick deemed ‘situationally appropriate’ courtesy of the more helpful attendant at Haute du Pommel. The mare there didn’t shy away from my wings, and instead tried to compliment them, actively butchering one of the existing suits styled for earth ponies using a WAND of her own. That mare was a whirlwind once she got going. She took my measurements, and in minutes had me dressed up in something that actually looked nice, once I got over the fact that it left my flank exposed. Tick got her contact info, I got an order telling me to come back tomorrow to pick it up, and the two of us left the shop not quite knowing what had just happened. I donated the suit I had ruined in case the mare could use it. She took it with grace and a few disdainful comments about the quality of suits being made these days.

After that, Tick and I went our separate ways. At least I had burned a few hours, and maybe a hole in my wallet, but we won’t go there. I had sufficient time for my mood to darken by the time I reached Fritter.

*****

“Hey Fritter, we need to talk.”

The afternoon rush at Fritter’s stand was mostly over. The buck had just started wiping down his equipment by the time I found my way back to his part of the food court. The poor guy still looked tired since the last time I saw him, but at least marginally more rested. Today, he was working alone, which probably explained why the line didn’t stretch into the next sector.

“Let me guess,” he asked in a low monotone, not even bothering to look up from his cleaning, “you’re having second thoughts too?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know, Fritter, something about this whole situation has just got me really antsy.”

Fritter frowned as he cleaned, “I know the feeling, believe me.” He stopped, pausing his rag, “My contact never showed up at our meeting,” he said flatly. “I’m getting bad vibes about this too, now, and that’s never a good sign.”

“Do you think we could just drop it?” I asked.

Fritter shook his head. “Not really, no. Jess is gonna do it, regardless. I haven’t tried to talk her out of it because she seemed dead set on doing it, and besides, at this point we’re in too deep. It’s best to stick to the plan than try to come up with something at the last minute. Otherwise I can guarantee it’ll all go to hell. At least this way we know it’s coming.”

“So, damage control then?” I replied.

Fritter nodded, and then set his cleaning rag back inside his cart. “All I can tell you now is to be careful. Since this is Jess’ show, she’ll fill you in on the details when you see her. Go armed. As for me, I’m going to look a little harder into my contact. This whole shit screams dirty to me and I’m gonna find out why.” Fritter took a breath. “and Horizon?”

He swallowed. “Don’t die.”

*****

It was with those words that I spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening brooding. I ate a lite dinner of what I expected would be my last meal, and spent the rest of the hours whittling away my time in my apartment, as the clock ticked slowly downward.

It was just past ten when I got the call. Jess was ready, and it was only then that I got the plan.

It was going down in the slums, right where this fucking rollercoaster all began. I knew the place by heart now, having seen the station map enough times to navigate it blindly. It was all I could do to push down the nervous tension I felt building in my chest at the thought of revisiting that place. It was empty now, or so Jess said, and perfect for an intimate conversation. Jess picked the makeshift coliseum for the flashpoint. It had the fewest sightlines and the most debris to hide in.

This was the plan. Jess would hide a snap trap close to the target point while one of Fritter’s station contacts passed Nightshade a hint he was looking for. If Nightshade took the bait, he’d search the coliseum, and once in position, Jess would shoot him with a stun round from her rifle. The charge would set off the trap and Nightshade would be ready for questioning. It wasn’t nice, but at this point Jess was taking no chances. No masks, no lies, it all ended tonight. And if it didn’t work, we were all dead.

I asked Jess what the hint was. All she gave me was a name: Black Briar.

*****

The slums had seen better days, even when they were occupied by a rival gangs and a bunch of vandals. Now it was all gone, left to rot until the suits decided to finish ‘reclaiming’ it, and filled with nothing more than the ghosts of dead gangers, left behind when the cops swept them under the rug. The bloodstains were still here. Dark patterns of blotchy brown specks dotted walls, pooled around rusting dents, and streaked across the floor. The crews never made it this far in the cleanup, or maybe they just didn’t care. The coliseum was riddled with bullet holes, punching so deep through the makeshift barricades that they might as well have been paper. It was clear the gangers made their last stand here. Not for the smell, but by the way all the streaks led out the only gate in and out, as the cops dragged the bodies out to be identified.

I hid in the shadows of the empty bleachers surrounding the center of the fighting ring, unmoving; waiting silently for Jess to take her shot; and making quiet prayers to the only goddess I truly respected.

She can’t hear you, you know. Tex answered. Princess Luna’s not omniscient. She’s strong, sure, but she’s not a deity. She isn’t perfect.

Then I guess I’ll worship power, I replied irritably, sinking a little lower in my stance as I tried to make myself as small as possible. Sitting in the dark, I could feel myself age, my world awash in shades of grey and colors I couldn’t recognize. I couldn’t see the entrance, but I could see Jess, concealed beneath a blanket and unmoving in her shadowed corner of the room. It felt unfair, somehow, that I’d be the one blessed with darkvision and not the pony on the trigger. All I could do was wait. And wait. And wait.

My pulse pounded in my ears for what felt like eons. Until finally, hoofsteps. My breath hitched, my eyes widening as they darted to the barricade blocking my view of the coliseum entrance. I forced myself to breathe, slowly—oh so slowly.

A step, and another. Seconds passed like years as Nightshade slowly entered, his eyes on a swivel, glazing over my position as he walked further into the coliseum floor.

“You can come out. I know you’re here,” he declared. His head turned from side to side, alert, but unaware.

Something in the pit of my stomach disappeared. He knew?

“Aetra? It’s me. I just want to talk,” Nightshade called out.

“Ok.” Jess replied. Nightshade’s head snapped to the side, as her rifle flashed brighter than the sun.

SNAP.

Nightshade screamed as he was hit, his legs splaying wide as four metal objects fastened around his hooves, while his body still convulsed with the electric charge he’d been hit with. The manacles flashed once, then split in four different directions, suspending him like a pony being drawn and quartered. He hit the ground on his back with a pained grunt, and then looked wildly at Jess as she threw off the blanket and rose from her firing stance.

“Jess! What the fuck?!”

“Hiya stud, how ya doin?” she replied cheerfully. “Comfortable?”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?! What the fuck did you do?!” Nightshade said.

His eyes then locked on my position as I quietly emerged from the shadows.

“Hello Nightshade,” I said, stepping into the open.

I was expecting anger, wrath, vitriol. Some sort of death threat along with whatever promises he would make about my next of kin. Something along those lines. Instead, Nightshade’s surprise simply, melted. He looked tired all of a sudden, more tired than I had ever seen him. Resigned, even. He let his head fall back to the floor with an audible thump and stared listlessly at the ceiling.

“Fuck,” he said, exhausted. “Of all the fuckin—damn it!” He took two deep breaths, as he tried to calm himself, and then glared at me. “What did you do?”

Jess tsked. “Not so fast, hotshot, we’d like to ask you a few questions before we get to the round table.” Jess said.

Nightshade grit his teeth. “Funny way to ask a question, bitch. What do you want?”

Jess shrugged, “Oh, nothing, just a few questions about your little adventures on the side.” Her WAND lit as it entered display mode, projecting a still of Nightshade driving a knife deep into a coal-black pony’s jugular. “Like this one for example,” she said, “or these.” The image replaced with another, and another, and another. It was everything Fritter had sent us and more.

Nightshade’s eyes widened.

“So we’ll start with this, first,” Jess said, taking up a stance between his splayed hind legs and looking down at him with icy contempt. “Who are you really, Nightshade? Because I’m pretty sure that isn’t your name.”

Nightshade laughed. Nightshade laughed hard, coughing occasionally.

“Something funny?” Jess asked, “And what’s with the cough? You didn’t fall that hard.”

He looked at her with one of his infuriating grins. “You have no fucking clue, do you. You’re right, Nightshade’s not my real name. So what tipped you off?”

Jess smiled, “Oh, you know, this.” Her projection changed to a movie. The camera feed from the planetside alleyway.

Nightshade’s grin faltered as he watched.

My WAND beeped at me, notifying me of a message. Irritated, I glanced at the sender. Fritter. I didn’t want to miss Nightshade’s answer, but it was probably important. I noticed Jess glance to side as well, apparently she got the same message, but she ignored it, focusing instead on the buck.

Nightshade paled, as some sort of realization hit him. Then I recognized something that gave me chills.

Fear. Genuine fear on the last pony I’d ever expect it from.

“Where did you get this video?” Nightshade demanded.

“A reliable source,” Jess replied, dismissing the question, “Why don’t you make this easy on us and start telling us who you really are, because depending on your answer, you’re either going to a very dark corner of the galaxy, or I’ll shoot you here and now and be done with the matter.”

Nightshade shook his head, “No, you don’t understand, the only ponies I know with that footage are a group you do not want to fuck with.”

“Enlighten me,” Jess replied evenly.

Nightshade grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. He drew a long breath, calming his nerves before speaking again, “I will, but promise me you’ll tell me where you got that footage when I’m done.”

“No promises, hun but maybe I’ll consider it,” Jess replied.

Nightshade grunted, “Ugh. Fine, whatever.” He looked at me, “This was your doing wasn’t it.” I did my best not to flinch under his gaze. The darkness helped.

“You’re still not talking,” Jess said, Nightshade gave her an impatient glare.

“Horizon, you remember the cargo ship, right?” Nightshade said, turning his head in my direction.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget,” I replied.

“Do you remember who attacked us?”

I shook my head, “I never got their names, as far as I know they were just some whackjob terrorists.”

Nightshade shook his head, “Did they look like terrorists to you? Combat tactics? Breach and clear? Their equipment?”

I shrugged, “I’ve never really thought about it to be honest, I was too busy trying not to piss myself. I remember hearing something about ‘epla’ something or other from the tower bucks though.”

Nightshade gave a throaty laugh, “Of course.”

Jess squinted at him, “What do you know, Nightshade?”

Nightshade shook his head. “The tower bucks were half right, technically they were part of ‘epla’. Were.”

“How do you know?” I said.

Nightshade smiled, “Easy, I used to be one of them.”

“Jess raised an eyebrow. Used to be? What division?”

“Epsog,” Nightshade replied.

I never saw Jess draw a weapon so fast. “Don’t. Move.” she growled.

Nightshade simply laughed.

I looked between the two of them feeling confused. “I don’t get it, what’s Epsog?’”

“So, do you want to tell him or should I? Jess?”

Jess’ eyes narrowed, “You’re doing well so far, why don’t you tell him and I’ll correct anything I don’t agree with.”

Nightshade then continued. “It’s an acronym. Earth Pony special operations group. It used to be a division of the EPLA, before the hammer came down on them a couple centuries back.”

“Go on,” Jess said.

Nightshade continued. “Epsog itself was a collection of sleeper cells, a sort of failsafe for the organization if they ever failed. And they did, marvelously. The original EPLA was crushed into spacedust years back by a coalition of all four sovs, who judged it too dangerous to let live. Once it died, we all went dark and rebuilt in secret.

“Fast forward two centuries and you have today’s problem. The Republic is still struggling to eradicate a movement that should have been dead centuries ago and can’t all because relations between the sovs soured. We helped.”

“So what was up with the cargo ship then?” I asked.

Nightshade smiled. “That ship was a targeted attack on the Republic’s relationship with the PC, but its initial delivery failed. It was intercepted by the Republic’s counter-intelligence and disabled, but my network got wind that there were more transports en-route to the target. That’s why we needed the delivery manifest. My handler commissioned me to find a way back onto the ship without tipping off my former buddies that the rest of their mission had been compromised. The rest is history.”

So I was just a pawn, and Nightshade was using me to help him with his dirty work. Great. “So where do you stand in all this, Nightshade?” I asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? I defected,” He replied.

“Why?” Jess asked, still training her weapon on him.

“Petty revenge, mostly,” he replied. “That pony in the video? That was my father, the old Nightshade. That was the last agent he hit before command had him killed. I’ve simply been returning the favor. Your turn, where did you get that video?”

“Not so fast, hotshot, I have more questions,” Jess said.

“And I’d like to leave here alive. It was Briar, wasn’t it?” Nightshade asked.

Horizon! Big problem! Tex suddenly yelled into my head.

What? Can’t you see we’re busy? I replied.

No, idiot! Bigger problem! All the M-Net nodes in this area just shut off!

What do you mean shut off?

I mean they’re gone! We’ve been cut off from the M-Net! We can’t call for help!

“Jess! We’ve got trouble!” I called.

“And that would be my cue!” Somepony else cheered.

Instinct told me to duck. I felt something brush my ear, as I spun low and back, using a backbeat to propel myself away from whatever tried to hit me. An indigo blue buck closed the distance on me quickly, whipping himself around the obstacle with a grace I’d thought impossible for an earth pony.

Jess instantly sprang backward, her rifle going to full tilt, only for a second pony to step out behind her, snapping the rifle out of her grip with two simultaneous blows to her forelegs. Whatever happened next I missed, I was too busy trying not to die. I threw myself down and to the side, slamming against a wall as the blue earth pony drove his right foreleg into the steel barrier and dented it.

“Hey Nightshade! Long time no see!” the blue buck called, effortlessly keeping up with every wingbeat I made as though it were the easiest thing in the world. “Though I think Wolfy has seen better days since you last paid him a visit!” His attention turned to me, “Ooh, flighty little bastard aren’t ya?”

He attacked, I ducked and rolled, trying to get at least to a space where I had some more open air. I had to get off the ground. The blue buck saw it coming

“Oh no ya don’t!” He laughed.

I barely saw it coming, I willed my body to move just a little faster. It didn’t. The buck caught my sudden backbeat with a hoof, and slammed the elbow joint of my left wing against one of the support beams holding up the coliseum walls, crushing it. The feedback shock was blinding. I think I screamed. The pain was followed by a sting near the back of my neck.

“And, checkmate.” The blue buck called. I ripped myself free, shouting as the failsafe in my pinned wing engaged and an electric sensation shot up my back, severing the metal appendage from my body, as I spun around and made a blind kick for the buck’s shit eating face. He glided around the attack effortlessly, sliding just past the blow before using my momentum to drive a second hoof down into my barrel, stopping me in place while the rest of my body folded around the impact.

I slammed into the ground like a sack of bricks. I couldn’t breathe for a full three seconds. Far too long. I tried to roll away. The buck helped me. I rolled across the floor and slammed into a wall, each second finding it harder and harder to move. By the time I looked up, I could see the buck’s psychotic smiling face as he casually meandered in my direction. Something metal hit the ground in front of me. A slender, metal object with a small feather attached to one end. A needle. My muscles locked up, and I realized in horror just what had happened. The buck sat down, took my head in his hooves and turned it to face his muzzle.

“So? Any last words before I show you my impression of a pumpkin smasher?” he said with a manic smile. His breath stank. It took everything I had to even wheeze.

He shrugged, raising my head a little higher off the ground and squeezing, “Oh well, at least I asked.”

“Don’t kill him,” a mare ordered. Her voice had a velvety quality to it, but from here I couldn’t see her. “we need to find out how much they know.”

The blue buck scowled, “Aww, but Briar! Don’t we only need one for that?”

“No, they might have told different people. We’ll need them both for cleanup. You’ll get your kill, just be patient.” The voice said again.

The buck let go. My head hit the ground with a sharp crack, smacking hard against the metal flooring before rolling helplessly toward the center of the room, giving me a clear view of Nightshade, and…Nightshade?

Nightshade, the Nightshade I knew, struggled on the ground, struggling to pull himself out of the restraints holding him to the floor, while standing above him was a mare, identical to him in all but cutiemark, if her coat and mane was a little more well cared for. She held herself with practiced poise, in a manner similar to the way Estoc walked, projecting confidence. Beyond he I could see Jess, writhing on the floor as whatever poison that had hit me took hold.

The mare, Briar, looked at me and smiled, and then turned her attention to Nightshade on the floor, who went very, very still.

“Why hello there! Nightshade! It’s been so very long since we’ve last seen each other hasn’t it? Did you miss me? Because I’ve certainly missed you. You’ve been very naughty,” Briar said.

Nightshade glared back at her, spitting to one side, “Hello sister. I see you found yourself a new partner. I knew you liked working in pairs, but Foxglove? Really? I thought you had better taste than that.”

“Hey! Bitch, I resent that!” The blue buck, Foxglove, I assumed, shouted back.

“Be quiet, Foxglove, the adults are talking,” Briar said without looking. Foxglove growled, but didn’t reply, choosing instead to start pumping pressure into the hoof pinning my head to the floor, chuckling a little louder every time I whimpered in pain.

Briar adjusted her hair a moment and then kicked Nightshade just inside his thigh. Nightshade yelped in pain, before gritting his teeth and growling. “You’ve given me a lot of trouble in tracking you down, you know that? A. Lot. of trouble. If it were any other pony I’d be impressed, but since it’s you, mmm no, I’m just disappointed. I mean, really? using your old codename as an alias? What were you thinking?”

Nightshade coughed a laugh, “Do you have any idea how many ponies are named Nightshade? It’s like the most common name in the universe.”

The mare rolled her eyes, “Yes, you’re so original, I gathered that. Listen I...ugh I just cannot take you seriously when you’re looking like that.”

With a flick of a hoof, a syringe popped into her fetlock. Nightshade’s eyes bulged when he saw it, forcibly kicking his legs against the restraints to try and slide the snap trap away from his double. Briar snorted once, gave him another kick, and then pinned his chest to the ground with one foreleg before slamming the syringe into his neck with the other with a smooth practiced motion. Nightshade writhed in place, trying to break free of the needle.

“I knew you always admired him, Treyu, but don’t you think this is a little too far?” Briar cooed, flashing Nightshade a wicked smile. “Now hold still and take your medicine, sister. You’ve been wearing daddy for far too long.”

She yanked the needle free, and then Nightshade started screaming.

Tex! Get help!

How?! All the nodes in this area have been shut off!

I heard the distinct crack of bone. Nightshade’s screaming only got louder as he writhed in place, his skin seeming to boil in place only to tighten around his entire frame. His muzzle shrank, his jaw narrowed, his entire frame seemed to shift and morph like putty.

“So, now that we have that little bit out of way, tell me little sister, why did you have to kill poor Wolfsbane? He’d only just earned his title, you know. I know he was annoying, but really?”

“Fuck you.” I couldn’t even recognize Nightshade’s voice anymore. The words came out as more of a gurgle than anything else and decidedly higher in pitch.

“Why did you do it Nightshade? Why did you leave? We had everything!”

“Everything? Like what? being Basalt’s personal fuck toys?!” Nightshade hoarsely spat back.

Nightshade’s head snapped to the side as Briar slapped him...her I wasn’t sure any more. “Do you have ANY idea of what you put me through?!” Briar screamed. “They dragged me in front of the court to testify against you! We were a team you spoiled bitch! So tell me, WHY?”

Nightshade closed her eyes and breathed, her chest heaving. “Destiny,” she said in a low raspy tone. “I’m going to kill him, Aetra. For everything he made us do. Especially dad.”

The blue buck laughed. “Kill him? What, King Basalt? Ohoho, that’s rich! Bitch you’d be lucky if he didn’t have your corpse hung above his bed so he could f-”

“One more word out of you, Foxglove and I’m going to make good on my promise,” Briar snarled.

Foxglove shut his mouth with an audible click.

“Wow, she’s got you whipped,” Nightshade laughed hoarsely.

A loud bang sounded as the buck pounded the deck and snarled. Judging by the dent, I was lucky that wasn’t my head.

“Don’t pick on children, Treyu, it’s not nice.”

“Fuck both of you,” Foxglove spat.

“Now enough joking, Nightshade, why did you leave us?”

“I’m not joking, Briar, I’m going to kill him.”

Briar’s expression changed to something unreadable as her eyes narrowed.

“You’re serious. Is your talent telling you this?” Briar said.

“Absolutely.”

Briar’s lips thinned as she judged Nightshade’s words. I couldn’t read the expression really, but she was thinking. After a long moment, she sniffed.”What is your talent telling you now?” Briar asked cryptically.

Nightshade closed her eyes and took a deep breath, “Somepony dies tonight,” Nightshade responded.

“I see, and who are these ponies to you?” Briar pointed in my general direction.

“They’re allies. Ponies who are helping me get there, in their own little ways.”

Briar frowned, “Your allies betrayed you.”

“I still need them.” Nightshade rasped.

“Even after all this?” Briar gestured to his bindings. Nightshade merely nodded.

Briar closed her eyes, breathed deeply and sighed, “Oh, the things I do for family.”

Foxglove stood up, “WHAT? you can’t be fucking serious. Our orders were to take her dead!”

Briar flicked her tail. I saw a flash of something in the dark, before foxglove yelped.

“Orders have changed,” Briar replied.

“W-what the fuck did you just hit me with?” Foxglove said, his voice rising in panic.

“Goodbye Foxglove.” Briar simply said.

“W-what? NO! NonononoNO! You BITCH! I’LL FUCKING K—” Foxglove choked, muscles spasming as foam dripped out of his mouth. His heaved as his body shook, drawing in wet, choking breaths, while he clawed at the needle wedged in his chest. His legs gave first. He hit the deck with a thud, screaming and gurgling as his body convulsed, legs and torso flailing enough to lift his body off the deck.

Briar looked at her screaming partner in casual disgust, before turning her nose and trotting toward the coliseum’s only exit. “When you’re ready, call me.” She said, stopping briefly in the doorway, and glancing back at Nightshade’s spread eagle form.

She then cheerfully addressed me. “Oh, and Horizon?” she said, flashing me a playful little smile, “If I ever hear that anything happened to my little sister, we’re going to have a long talk.” She winked, and left without another word.

It was minutes before anyone said anything; minutes before Foxglove’s corpse finally stopped twitching.

“Wow, we really fucked this up, didn’t we?” Jess finally said weakly, still motionless in her corner of the coliseum floor.

“No, really?” Nightshade replied. Her voice now distinctly female.

Another minute or two passed before Jess piped up again. “Why?” she said, her voice cracking under the strain “Why did you spare us? You could have been rid of all of us. Started fresh.”

“I’m sick of starting fresh,” Nightshade replied quietly. “I’ve seen too many friends die over this mess already.

“After all that, we’re still your friends?” I chipped in, throat hoarse. Fuckin moons was I getting thirsty.

“Oh, I’m fucking pissed at both of you for this, make no mistake. But don’t think I’m just going let sis have her way with you just because you pissed me off. I’m a killer, not a monster.” Nightshade took a moment to think about that, “anyway, that threat she made though? That was real. You’re both fucked now. My sister knows your names and your faces, and you’ve pissed her off. She could find you anywhere now.”

“So, what happens now?” Jess asked.

“How long will this trap keep running?” Nightshade asked in response.

‘Until you stop breathing, or I hit the release,” Jess replied.

“I assume the grid is down,” Nightshade said.

“Completely.” I answered.

“Well, then we’re pretty much stuck here then until either someone finds us or the tranqs wear off. Way to go, dumbass.” Nightshade said.

I didn’t have the strength to groan.

“So, twenty-questions, I guess.” Nightshade said, “That’s what you wanted, right?”

“You’ll actually fuckin answer them?” Jess said.

“It’s that or silently brood for six hours.”

“Six?” I asked.

“Or four,” Nightshade finished, “It depends on the mix she used. Fuck, I want a drink.”

“I have never seen you drink before.” I said.

“That’s because I can’t mix it with the poly potion,” Nightshade said, blowing away a strand of mane that had “It has...less than desirable side effects.”

“Why, do they last for more than four hours?” I asked. Nightshade ignored me.

“That’s some hell of a potion,” Jess said, “Even I couldn’t tell the difference.”

After a minute or two I asked, “So you’re really a-”

“Mare? Yes.” Nightshade sighed. “Like I told you before, I have a small talent with alchemy. Gran taught my sister and I as much as she knew. Briar’s actually better at it. She’s the one who perfected the recipe.”

“I’d call it more than a small talent if you can brew up something that can convincingly change your gender,” Jess chimed in.

“Nah, it’s small talent. All I did was follow a recipe. Great Gran’s secret recipe number sixty-three: the genderbender.” Nightshade’s voice just sounded so wrong. “It’s not permanent, though, I have to keep taking booster potions to keep the effect up, and those all taste like piss. Fun in bed though.”

“I did not need to know that.” Jess groaned.

“This is really weird. Do you feel weird? Because I feel weird now,” I said.

“Alright Horizon, my turn to ask a question,” Nightshade said.

“Shoot.”

“Why are you sparkling?”

40% Remaining…

Author's Note

A review for Pinkie’s on the M-Net: “Great food. Great service. Never going back.”

Surprise! Also, geez this was a lunker. Although that seems to be more and more the case as I get deeper into the story. This was a chapter I've wanted to write for a while now, but I've been very worried about how it would turn out. It's a glimpse at the other side, you could say, and there's a lot going on there, but the story is told from only Horizon's perspective so I'm having to balance just telling everything with the fact that Horizon doesn't know shit that he doesn't see happen. It's also why things can resolve themselves off-screen. No one needs him to deal with their problems. He's just a pilot, and frankly his friends are more competent than he is.

26.5 - Nightshade

I was twelve when I made my first kill, it’s a memory I don’t think I’ll ever forget. It was a cold morning on our planet, ice frosted over the scant grass in the main battleground as I stood across from a young colt my age, a knife gripped tightly in my mouth as I prepared for what would either be the start of my life or the end of it. In the end, we spent more time staring at each other than actually fighting. Six seconds, and it was over. I cradled my peer’s body when we impacted, hearing him gasp for air as my knife buried itself in his lungs. Crying, I twisted. His body shuddered, a plaintive cry unable to escape him as his body tired and dropped, his eyes staring helplessly at me from the ground where he died. This was the ritual: the first kill. It was required of every future operative in the Program, and it defined the rest of my life. I still remember those eyes, and the hollowness that crept into them as I pulled my knife from his chest. I remember how badly I wanted to puke, tasting the copper over his blood around the handle as I snapped to attention in front of the King. I could not show weakness there. Any hesitation, and you died, either by your opponent or the King’s guards. It was the rule drilled into me by my father in my most formative years. Standing there, in front of the King as he smiled, and announced my victory, proclaiming me worthy of the Program. I felt no relief in his words. It was all I could do to keep my attention on the King, instead of the downcast look on my father’s face as he stood next to his fellow Roses in the King’s box.

My name is Atreyu Solanaceae, codename “Nightshade”. I was the daughter of a high ranking operative in the King’s Garden, the EPLA ruler’s hoofpicked cadre of agents dedicated to performing tasks deemed impossible by other ponies. In my youth, I was afforded luxuries the other members of the EPLA could only dream of, but the cost was a lifetime of service, determined at birth and raised over us as a sword.

The first years of the Program were the most dangerous, back when my twin and I were too inexperienced to know better. Survival was our only rule. We were educated to be useful resources to the pretender king, and then pitted against our peers in lethal combat. The Program had no room for the weak. When we came of age, we were inducted. We spent years growing up through a constant state of paranoia, learning our potions from Gran, while fending off our classmates in the off-hours. We learned our trade during the day, studying electronics, weapons, spycraft, how to kill, how to survive, how to function as sleepers and how to disguise ourselves. At night, we applied it.

Bodies turned up in strange places in the mornings. Classmates dwindled as we killed each other, sneaking in the dark. My sister and I became inseparable as we learned to rely on each other for survival. We slept in shifts, ever watchful for our classmates blades while we plotted their own assassinations. We observed, we learned, we grew, and by the end of our training, we survived. We were two of eight ponies left standing, the forty-two losers, all dead.

Father…father wanted a different life for us. He was a product of the same Program, one of the highest ranking members of the Roses, but through a flaw in his indoctrination, he broke free of his conditioning. I adored him. Father represented everything I had ever wanted, acclaim, wealth, power, notoriety. We didn’t know at the time, that the moment we were inducted into the program was the moment he decided to go rogue. Dad lived a double life, killing allies in the field and dressing it up as accidents, before finally separating altogether, and hunting his peers from the shadows. In what little contact we had with him once he started his ploy, he began breaking our training. He taught us doubt. He planted seeds in us to question the King’s authority, and when we were finally taken away, he began his real work.

We only saw him once after that. Our training continued for years until graduation, having satisfied the mandatory requirements of our charge and selected our specialization, guided by our talents. Mine was tracking and subterfuge, spywork and assassination, all guided by my talent of divination. With my talent I could divine what a target would do, how they would act, where they might go, and if I followed my instincts, if I performed the right actions, if I acquired the right intel, then I could always kill the mark. But I did not work alone. My sister became my partner in murder. Aetra’s talent was poison, disguise, and deception, a masterful actress aided by a natural immunity to poisons lethal to most ponies. By herself she could draw out a target into the open, unwary of the danger they were in. She could bend mares and stallions around her hoof and lead them like sheep to the slaughter. Together we were unstoppable. It was by graduation, however, that our father had been found out.

The video had turned up, that damnable thing; father’s treason caught on camera for all to see. His was our first official assignment as graduates of the Program. A succession kill, both to establish our names within the Garden and to prove our loyalty to the King. We obeyed. It was what we were trained to do, after all. We tracked our father down to a warehouse on a planet close to the Rim’s capital and confronted him. We argued. He tried to get through to us, hopeful that his ploy had worked, but in the end, we were little more than mindless tools. I earned my name that night, taken by right from my father's corpse when I put a bullet through his head. That was my turning point. Though I wouldn’t know it until years later.

Father’s teachings stayed with me, even as my sister and I continued to advance. We became known as ‘The Twins’, completing our assignments with cold, unrelenting efficiency. We also had the misfortune of being pretty. The King noticed us and took us as concubines, both as a reward for our accomplishments and to satisfy his own lusts. We became Roses. I became a traitor.

I had enough, one night, stinking of sex in the king’s bedchambers. I wanted him dead for the things he made us do. I wanted the pretender king to pay, but deep down, my desire to survive was stronger. I defected instead. I used my skills to disappear, and took as much of EPSOG’s intelligence with me as I could. No one saw me leave, but they did notice my absence and the list of disasters that began to plague their operations. But I knew that all my work would be nothing more than a nuisance by itself. No pony can fight a war by themselves, after all.

In my years in hiding, I used Gran’s potions to change me. I made allies, built networks, adopted a new identity, all for the purpose of bringing down the Garden around Basalt’s ears. Then, one day, amidst all my scheming, I met an idiot in trouble. It would have been easy to just walk away, but the pull from my talent was particularly strong that day. So I made a choice. The rest, is history.

Author's Note

Merry Christmas!

27 - Aftermath

Chapter 27
Aftermath
“Are we live? We’re live? Great. Hello again faithful viewers and we are sorry for the extended service interruption! I am your host True Faith and you are watching GNN live across all channels! As the fires still burn from skirmishes fought with authorities just outside the capitol building, hundreds of thousands of people have gathered at the Senate Hearing building for what has to be the greatest moment of our lifetimes. As we speak officials from the former NSR are handing authority over to the free peoples of the old republic leaving everyone asking the same question: What will happen now?"
- 3377 E.C.- New Canterlot Summit - As racial tensions continue to rise in the nation, the surviving leaders of the NSR concede all authority to an intermediate council to determine the shape of the new government. All direct hostilities cease but fail to stem the tide of growing dissent in the Empire.

A Pilot, a Cop, and a Killer walk into a bar. The bartender looks up and says,

“Ah, hell.”

Joe dropped the cleaning rag he was holding in his TK and immediately ran into the back with the clink of bottles and mild cursing following in his wake. It was something like six in the morning by the time we rolled into Joe’s empty bar. The three of us numbly took a few adjacent seats at the counter, tired, pissed off, and generally cranky.

“Did you really have to break open the snapper like that?” Nightshade said, rubbing a slightly swollen spot on her foreleg from where the trap’s manacles had secured. Granted, Jess had shot them open with her stun rifle. If I was Nightshade I would have been pissed too. Not that she didn’t have enough reasons to be pissed at us already.

Jess shrugged, “I lost my key in the scuffle,” she casually lied.

“Don’t take me for an idiot, Jess. It’s keyed to your WAND. Which you are wearing,” Nightshade replied.

Jess merely smiled. “Oh, oops, must have slipped my mind. Blame the tranq.”

I spit my left wing onto the counter, the metal appendage landing with a solid thunk, drawing both of my companions attention. The limb was in bad shape. I had a hoof shaped dent in the elbow deep enough to punch out one of the inner actuators and the entire assembly was twisted from where I had wrenched it free from its socket. Looking at it, I grimaced.

“Think Tick might be able to fix this?” I asked hopefully.

“Maybe, if she doesn’t kill you first,” Nightshade replied.

“Horizon, when I said you were a fighter I didn’t mean go out and get beat up again.” Joe said as he returned, carrying a bottle of rainbow colored fluid and three shot glasses. As he set them down, he stopped, blinking at Nightshade. “Why do I feel like I’ve seen you before… wait. Eightball?”

“Nightshade,” Nightshade corrected, “Although I suppose Eightball might work as well. Eh Clementine?” Nightshade smiled.

Joe shook his head. “This mornin‘s just getting weirder.”

“You have no idea,” Jess replied, still nursing the shiner she had gotten during the scuffle. “Got any ice?”

Joe lit his horn and pulled a scoop from under the counter. I didn’t see where he kept the ice, but after a quick motion from his horn and a small plastic bag floating up from further down the row, Jess quickly had an icepack. She nodded her thanks as she pressed it into the bruise and softly hissed.

“Alright you three, what happened.” Joe asked, his voice full of fatherly disapproval.

“Short story, we were stupid, Ahhh,” Jess said easing the ice pack into position.

Joe shook his head, and started pouring the rainbow whiskey. “Ya don’t say. Well, I hope you at least learned somethin,” Joe said, passing the now full shot glasses to each of us.

“Yeah,” I said, taking the proffered drink and downing in it one go. It burned all the way down, with a strange, cherry finish, or was that orange? “Nightshade’s sister is a bitch,”

Nightshade spat her drink, almost dropping the shot glass on the counter while she coughed. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Joe passed the three of us a skeptical frown. “I’m listening.”

Well, he did ask.

*****

What followed was probably the most unpleasant dressing down I had ever received. Made worse by the fact that Tex used the opportunity to make approving commentary in my head. Thankfully it was a lecture shared with friends. Well, sorta friends. I wasn’t exactly sure what we were now. Indentured servants maybe, complete with death threats from ponies who kill in casual conversation. By the end of it we were all a little shell shocked.

We paid for the drinks and then some, and then sat in silence for a while simply digesting what it really meant to beware the wrath of a quiet buck. We spent a long while in silence, knocking back drinks and generally trying to forget how stupid we all just were.

“You know I can’t say I’ve ever seen you drink,” I said, two thirds of the second bottle later.

Nightshade coughed down her latest shot and slipped the shot glass back onto the counter. Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment before sniffing. “You can thank the bender for that. Can’t mix it with alcohol.”

“Drugs don’t mix, huh?” Jess asked, having abandoned using her WAND for the shot glass and instead cradling it in her fetlock.

Nightshade shook her head, “No, it… Horizon you remember that little cocktail I made you a few weeks back, right?”

I shuddered, “How could I forget,” I said, the mere mention of the syrupy thing made bile rise in my throat. Totally unrelated to the drinking. Totally.

“Picture a world where everything alcoholic tastes like that,” he said.

I immediately felt queasy. But again, totally unrelated to the whiskey. The stuff was actually kinda kickass, now that I think about it. The flavor changed with every sip. It was like a new drink with every shot, no wonder Joe was so impatient for it.

“Yikes,” I replied.

“Cocktail?” Jess asked.

Nightshade made a throaty laugh. “It’s an old recipe I got for curing hangovers. I got it off an old accomplice who was part of the Apple family. He called it the sludge vomit. The first time I had it, it took months to get the flavor off my tongue. The original recipe was actually made with some earth pony magic. Then it got banned because the flavor stuck with everything but cider.”

“I haven’t noticed a difference,” I said, cradling my nth shot and questioning my life choices.

“That’s because you’re not an earth pony,” Nightshade replied.

“But you could still drink cider?” Jess asked.

Nightshade poured herself another shot. “Story goes that was the first time the family got sued by another brewer,” she said with a smile. “Still, it wears off after a while unless it piggybacks off some other effect. Like the bender.”

“So is that what that pink potion was?” I asked

“Oh you saw that, huh? Yeah, that’s the booster. I have to take one every now and then to keep up appearances. Literally. Tastes like piss, though.”

“Can’t be worse than my dad’s beer,” Jess remarked.

“You try growing a dick while drunk,” Nightshade mumbled into his shot.

“You must be fun at parties,” Jess replied.

“Nah, that’s Aetra’s shtick. She was the socializer in our little duo. I was the trigger,” Nightshade said.

Jess shook her head while downing the rest of her shot, grunting as it went down. “Never thought I’d see the day when I’d drink with an assassin,” she said, setting her shot back on the counter.

“Yeah, cause the corps is so clean,” Nightshade chuckled.

Jess frowned. “I have a name to protect. After dad got disgraced, I had to learn to keep my nose clean or else everyone else would start making assumptions. Say what you want about the force, but I have to do my best to uphold the law. Otherwise I just shit all over dad’s memory.”

“Fuck, you too?” Nightshade said actually surprised. “At least you didn’t shoot him.”

“I’ll give you that. Still, fuck,” Jess replied.

“Fuck.” I echoed, mostly into my drink.

“Why do we all have daddy issues?” Nightshade laughed, a moment of silence later.

“Stupid shit, probably,” I replied. “I mean, come on. What are the odds? Three ponies with parental issues?”

“Sadly more common than usual,” Jess replied, “and it’s four if you count Tick.”

My head hit the bar counter. “Ugh. I’m gonna have to talk to her today.”

“Good luck,” Nightshade said, smirking. “You might want to take the rest of the bottle with you while you’re at it, ‘cause when she sees that wing…”

“Tell me that’s not your talent speaking,” I replied.

Nightshade grinned and downed her shot.

Joe returned, looking sour. He glanced first at the two nearly empty bottles, then at the rest of us. “You folks sober?” he asked, his tone short.

“Enough, what’s up?” I asked.

“Fritter’s not returning my messages, I need yall to check on 'im.” Joe replied, slapping a keycard onto the countertop.

The three of us exchanged glances.

*****

I rang the buzzer, I pounded on his door. we gave him exactly twelve seconds to open it before we started trying the card.

“Fritter? You there? Open the door!” I called into his intercom. There was no response. I felt sick. “We have a card, we’re coming in!” I announced.

The reader beeped as Jess flashed the card over it and the light turned green. A few moments later the door slid quietly open and the three of us piled inside.

We found Fritter on the couch. An empty bottle in front of him, and staring dead off into space. His glazed eyes looked over us for a moment before he slumped back into the seat of his couch and stared dead ahead as if we weren’t even there.

Jess was at his side in an instant.

“Whoah, hey there buddy, look at me.” Jess said, sitting down in front of him and gripping his head with both hooves. She started looking over his eyes, and took his pulse “What did you take?”

“Nothin,” Fritter slurred, “Fuck everthn tho. Evythins fucked. Yur fucked, we’re all fucked. I’m fucked.”

With alarm, I noted the house was empty. Nightshade disappeared down the hall. “Where’s Pearl, Fritter?”

“School,” Fritter responded, slightly more alert at the sound of her name, “watchin Nutters. Safer that way. Too bad it dozzn’t madder now.”

Nightshade returned, “Medicine cabinet is full. Whatever he’s drinking it’s just alcohol.”

“And it doesn’t look like he’s anything but drunk on this end,” Jess replied. “Sorry about this in advance by the way,” Jess said, pulling something out of her uniform and slapping it onto Fritter’s neck. Whatever it was, it hissed. Fritter grunted, squinting tightly before burping and coughing.

“Wh--” was as far as he got before he leaned over the side of his couch and barfed on the floor.

“That’s not gonna be fun to clean,” Nightshade remarked.

Fritter groaned, sounding more and more coherent by the minute. He cradled his head. “Ugh, the fuck was that?”

“That was a neurostim,” Jess replied. “Don’t worry it’ll hurt like a bitch later, I just need you coherent now. What happened?”

Fritter shook his head out, knocking over a bottle in the process. “Gah, fuck,” he said, wobbling in place and nearly falling over. Jess steadied him.

“What happened?” She asked again.

Fritter’s mouth tightened as he sniffed. “I fucked up is what happened. Somepony rang my buzzer early this morning. I got up to check it, and found a visitor standing in my living room.”

“Briar,” Nightshade said. Then Fritter really noticed her.

A single flap of his wings took him out of his seat, stumbling wildly backwards as Jess tried to pin him back down.

“Celestia! … oh… fuck! Nightshade?!” Fritter said, terrified.

“You met my sister, I take it,” Nightshade replied evenly.

Fritter merely nodded. “Yeah, although seeing you now answers so many questions.” He said, pausing to catch his breath, “and raises so many more. I’m...sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”

Nightshade’s expression remained neutral. “All’s forgiven, more or less. With Aetra hounding your ass now, that’s more than enough punishment for what you all did.”

Fritter squeezed his eyes shut, cursing silently, before hanging his head and sighing. “Punishment is putting it lightly.” With a hoof, he nudged a piece of paper on the table. “Read that,” he said. “It was a little present she left me insidemy nightstand.”

It was a small, neatly folded piece of paper. Jess picked up the piece of parchment, read it twice, and then swore, before hoofing it over for me to read. On it, in elegant, neat mouthwring was a brief message:

Mr. Cherry Fritter,

Seeing as I don’t like to waste passable talent, you will now work for me. You will provide me with all the information I need to do my job and you will do it willingly. Do anything to compromise our new relationship and I will personally ensure that your family dies in front of you. There is no place you can hide where I will not find you. -BB

Oh, moonpies.

“I fucked up,” Fritter mumbled, “I fucked everything up. My guess is she found you when you met with me before...everything. I should have known. Now we’re all fucked.”

“Does Pearl know?” I asked.

Fritter shook his head. “I can’t tell her. I tell anyone who isn’t here about this and I-I’ll lose everything that matters to me. She copied my contacts. I can’t even warn them.”

“I wouldn’t worry about your contacts too much. If anything she’s just going to use them to broaden her own network. They’re compromised, sure, but as long as you keep your nose clean they won’t suffer. You probably got all your dirt on me from her anyway.”

Fritter nodded. “I did. Although you seem to be taking this really well.”

Nightshade shrugged. “What’s done is done, and this was the best outcome for the circumstances. Trust me when I say you don’t want to know the other options. My path hasn’t changed. I’m pissed off, sure, but I’ve had a few hours too cool off, and unleashing my sister on you is more than enough punishment in my opinion.”

Fritter quietly nodded, staring at the empty bottles on the coffee table.

“She had a message for you, by the way.” Fritter said a few moments later.

Nightshade smiled, “Did she now?” she replied.

Fritter nodded, “She told me to tell you that the ‘King has stalled the plan.’”

Nightshade blinked. “What? Did she say anything else?”

Fritter shrugged. “Only that it was strange. She said some important pony gave him an offer he couldn’t resist, just as long as he held off for a time. Or at least that’s what she gathered.”

That got Nightshade’s attention. “Did she say anything else? Anything at all?” she asked.

“Just check-in instructions for me, and something about a goddess, but I didn’t understand.” Fritter said with a sigh.

From the look on her face, neither did Nightshade. Or any of us for that matter.

“A goddess...like, one of the sisters?” Jess asked.

I heard Tex groan.

Fritter shrugged. “Maybe they found Celestia?”

“Now there’s a terrifying thought,” Nightshade said, “Celestia in the hooves of a despot.”

“Estoc would have a fit if that were true,” Jess replied.

Celestia would never tolerate a pony like that. Tex commented.

“Yeah and you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you Jess?” Nightshade chided.

Jess rolled her eyes, “Oh, laugh it up, shemale.”

Nightshade grunted.

“You’ll be able to tell him yourself in a week or so,” I said. “Estoc invited us to dinner in the NSR. Some celebration feast, or something, now that he’s returned.”

Jess’ eyes went wides as plates as a smile broke over her face. “Really?”

I nodded. “Yeah, that’s half the reason Tex dragged me off to go suit shopping with Tick the other day.” Speaking of which I was supposed to pick that up today, fuck!

Jess’ smile went from euphoric to scandalized. “And you didn’t invite me?!” she crowed.

“You were busy!” I replied.

“Dumbass,” Nightshade said evenly. Jess simply began ignoring me.

“What?!”

Fritter gave a tired laugh chuckled. “I hope you ponies never change. Thanks for the pick-me-up. I needed it. I-” Fritter stopped, his eyes screwing up as he suddenly grabbed his head and hissed, “Ah… holy shit that hurts!”

Jess laughed.

*****

We returned to the ship a little later in the afternoon. Jess went her separate way, stepping off the hangar docks toward her cruiser so she could freshen up a bit while I boarded the Bandit with Nightshade. A distinctly sick feeling crept into my gut as the two of us piled into the airlock and closed the hatch behind us. If Tick was here at all, the next few minutes were not going to be pleasant, especially since I held my broken wing in my mouth. The taste of metal was already getting old, I didn’t need to add the natural variety to the mix too.

I peered into the main access corridor in the airlock porthole, so far, no sign of her. Then again, she didn’t linger above decks very often.

“So what are the odds that I’m going to survive the next few minutes?” I asked Nightshade, as we waited for the pressure to equalize.

Nightshade turned her head towards me. “Knowing Tickintime, about one in a hundred.”

“Only a hundred?” I replied.

Nightshade replied with a smirk, “odds are lower if you say something stupid, and much better if you turn around now and book the first shuttle back to the PC.”

I was more tempted to do that than I want to admit.

The airlock sensor beeped and the door opened, admitting us inside. Nightshade went ahead, making a purposeful trot toward the ladderwell while I reluctantly followed behind her. By the time I hit the bottom of the stairs she was already passing Tickintime in her rush to get to the cargo hold, and presumably, her chems. Tick emerged from the cargo hold at the same time, staring confusedly back at Nightshade’s path and looking somewhat conflicted.

She was still staring when she started saying, “Who was that mare and why does she look like, Night...shade?” Tick stared, her mouth freezing in the open position.

I spat my wing onto the ground where it landed with a solitary metal clack. “Hi Tick, I don’t suppose you could fix this could you?”

Tickintime screamed.

“So is that a yes?” I laughed nervously.

With a flash of magic she whipped a wrench out of her jumper and roared like a griffon warrior taking to battle. “AAAAAAAH!”

There was a lot of pent-up anger there.

I flinched to the side as said wrench sailed past my ear, impacting off the bulkhead behind me with a loud bang. I spared it only glance before noticing that Tick’s horn was still glowing.

“AAAAAAAH!” Tick’s eyes were twitching as she glared at me from her battle stance, horn crackling with lightning.

I didn’t stay to find out what would happen next. The next second was a literal blur. I was up the ladderwell and onto the airlock, mashing the door control as fast I dared while listening to the the sound of hell and hades pounding their way up the stairs.

“HORIZON! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!” A demon roared, rapidly approaching.

Yep, she mad.

The airlock door opened with a hiss, and at a rate that echoed eternity. I scrambled inside, mashing the flush control while Tickintime charged down the corridor, flinging a ball of lighting in my general direction. I wheeled away from the door, just in time to watch the ball zip past me and impact the far wall with a bright flash. The door shut. A clang sounded. Pressure normalized. The light in the airlock flashed from red to green, and then shut off entirely.

I stared, dumbfounded at the light. Failing to grasp what had just happened.

“Oh, no.” I muttered, rapidly tapping at the offending bulb and hoping it was just the ship toying with me again. “Oh, mercy please no.” I tapped it again for good measure, and then every light in the airlock shut off. My world became a wash of grays. I whimpered, staring at the offending hatch and scrambling around for the manual release.

That was when I heard the tap.

A quick glance at the airlock porthole saw Tick’s wickedly smirking face on the other side and holding a severed cable in her magic.

I was fucked.

What followed after that definitely left a mark.

*****

“I am so disgusted with you right now,” Tick said, lightly rapping me on the head with her wrench.

“So… can you fix it?”

“Fix it! Hah!” Tick said, cranking hard on my back with her wrench while trying to bend a pinion straight. “Do I look like a neurosurgeon to you? You’ll be lucky if I can even get this attached much less working!

“I just can’t believe you! It hasn’t even been a WEEK andIt’s already broken! And for what? because you can’t control you stupid paranoia?!” There was a another hard pull, something deep in my back twinged and I cried out.

“Oh, stuff it you big baby.” Tick replied.

“But-”

Tick held up a hoof to silence me. “No talking. I don’t want to hear an excuse from you right now. You’ll just make me angrier and then I’ll break something. If anything it’ll teach you not to run off into trouble like you’re so prone to do.”

I wisely kept my mouth shut.

Tick muttered a curse under her breath. “Guh, I don’t have the parts to fix this actuator. It’s twisted too far.” She smacked me hard on the shoulder. “What the hell did this?”

“An earth pony with a temper and plenty of leverage,” I replied. “The alternative was being a stain on the floor.”

Tick grumbled something I couldn’t understand, yanking hard on my still working wing. It didn’t hurt, but the feeling was viscerally uncomfortable. I felt my back clench in places I didn’t even know I had.

My ears must have done the talking for me. “You’re fine. Probably, I’m just trying to figure out how they attached the other wing so I can make this work,” Tick said, “You’re lucky my talent is fixing things, otherwise you could kiss these things goodbye.” Tick said.

“You’re a saint, Tick,” I replied.

“No, I’m an engineer. Although I suppose working miracles is part of the job,” Tick said. “Ah, that’s how they did it. Hold still, this might sting a bit.”

I didn’t have a moment to collect myself before what felt like a lightning bolt shot through my back where my wing used to be. My left side seized as all the muscles clenched and then suddenly the sensation passed. The hollow sensation of my wing returned, or at least, back to roughly where it was before. I waited for Tick to give the go ahead before trying to move it.

“You know you could have been great at the hokey pokey. If you left it as is.” Tick said, as she replaced the casing around my wing joint.

“The dance?” I asked.

“You know, you put your left wing in, you put your left wing out…” she sang tunelessly.

I groaned, then shook my left wing all about.

Tick giggled softly. Before giving the wing a final tap with her wrench. “Okay, I pronounce your wing mostly fixed. You can go ahead and test the range of motion and tell me if you find any hitches. I did what I could, but the fine tuning is beyond me. The ponies who installed this were specialists at the cutting edge of their field, so forgive me if I don’t quite have their level of skill.”

“You’re building up to something.”

“Yeah, well, you see you’re going to need a lot more routine maintenance after this.” Tick explained. “I don’t have the right parts or the expertise to fix this like new, and from what I can tell, there might have been some damage to the neurofiber connecting the wing to your spine, so I can’t fix the internals there without risking the entire wing. I’m not qualified for that, and I’ve already spent too much money getting you set up with these to risk them on something stupid.”

“Never stopped you before,” I said.

Tick frowned. “Dumping cash on a problem doesn’t fix the problem, it just makes the problem very expensive. I got you the best because I wanted you to have the best, especially after… nevermind. Just don’t expect me to keep shelling out money to cover your ass. Especially if you keep running headfirst into trouble like this.”

“For what it’s worth, thank you.”

Tick shrugged, in reply. “It’s what I do. Just please try to take better care of them? I don’t want to have to repair your wings like this again. Once is enough.”

“I’m surprised it did so much damage, to be honest. I thought the wings were built to disengage in case of an emergency,” I said, “I know it wasn’t ideal circumstances but...”

“Sure, in a controlled fashion, but not literally ripped out of the socket, and that’s the sort of thing that they’re only supposed to do once.” Tick replied tersely, then shook her head. “Look, I’ve done what I can. Test the wing lightly and if it holds, great, but if it starts to get a little loose you’ll have to get it tightened up again.” Tick shut her toolbox with a clack and sighed. “You know where to find me if you need it.”

“Thanks Tick.”

“Don’t mention it. No, really.” Tick stood, hefting her toolbox in her magic and heading toward storage. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go find something to help me forget seeing Nightshade swap genders in the cargo hold.”

“He did?”

“A mare walked into the cargo hold, a stallion walked out. I don’t want to know. I just want to curl up with a hard cider and drink enough to stop questioning everything I know.”

“Have you tried Joe’s rainbow whiskey yet? It’s something else,” I replied.

“I’m not really a whiskey mare, Horizon,” Tick responded.

“I think you’d like it. It changes flavor between shots. Weird, but fun,” I said.

Tick looked thoughtful. “Well… maybe I’ll give it a try sometime, just not now. I’ve got too much shit to do.” Tickintime facehoofed. “Oh, geez you ponies are rubbing off on me.”

“I hear we come out with soap.” I replied.

*****

“So Tex, are you done ignoring me?” I said later that night as I strode up to my apartment.

No. Tex replied.

“Suit yourself,” I replied, slipping my card up against the reader before my front door opened.

You know what you did wasn’t okay. Tex said. I’m really mad at you right now. All of you! How can you ponies just shrug this off as if nothing happened?!

“We’re alive?” I answered, strolling inside. The door shut behind me and I was greeted by an almost familiar dark. The lights in my apartment were off, clearly, but the wash of grays made me feel… I dunno, cozy. I didn’t even bother turning on the lights. If anything I’d be saving a little cash on utilities now that I didn’t really need them. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of arguments in the future, Tex, After last night I think everypony just needs a little time alone.” I looked at my mostly fixed wing. “I know I do.”

I also needed sleep—a lot of it.

You ponies are weird. My friends would have never stood for that. They would at least be hurt, and that would make me feel awful.

“Don’t project your feelings on me. I’m not you,” I said.

That’s for sure.

“I’m going to bed now Tex, goodnight.”

Oh, just take me off already.

So I did. I took off my WAND, took a shower and went to bed. I slept like the dead. The next week came faster than I would have liked.

39% Remaining...

Author's Note

A bit of a shorter chapter this time around, and for good reason. Here's hoping I didn't miss anything. If I did, well, you'll find it. Enjoy.

00 - Initiating Playback...

Record Start ---- 0247:40 05DEC4131
Subject Name --- Horizon Caeli Seldat
Record Title --- The Stars Beyond the Veil
Comment --- [DATA CORRUPTED. ATTEMPTING TO RECOVER]
...
...
...
Playing Record...

Notice: 97% Remaining...

“Hey. If you’re listening to this, well, I hope that no one ever has to listen to this but I suppose that's unavoidable given my current situation.”

*sigh*

“I’m leaving this so that you know what happened, so that there is some form of record of how I got involved in this whole mess, and hopefully so you can make sure it never happens again. Honestly, I’m not sure how I got involved, or, where to start really.... Ah, hell. I’ll just start at the beginning. I gotta warn you though, it’s a really long story, so grab some popcorn or something.”

“My name is Horizon. I’m a pegasus born on L6-C, an orbital colony off of Luna Six. My life up until a few months ago was fairly uneventful. Now, well, you’ll see. “

“It all started after another routine job....”

22 - Repairs

Chapter 22

Repairs

“I don’t care what the major says. This isn’t right.”
“Don’t let them hear you man. You didn’t see what they did to Sonar.”
“But we’re hurting our own people!”
“S-Shut up the Major’s coming!”
“No! Fuck the Major! I’m not doing this!”
3372 E.C. – Unrest worsens. NSR responds with harsher crackdowns.

There is something to be said about a mare on a mission. In a rare moment of temperate lucidity, Junkyard once gave me advice that I took to heart. Don’t fuck with 'em.

“WHERE IS HE?!” The door to the police headquarters exploded as Jess charged into the office with all the grace of a rampaging bull. The office workers ducked beneath desks and scrambled for weapons as the heaving mare burst into the room with hellfire and brimstone following on her wings. The panic was followed by recognition, and then irritation. Several officers rolled their eyes and went back to work, while others continued watching her warily, including the front desk receptionist who had the unfortunate honor of being conveniently next to the front entrance.

“Uh, c-can I help you Lieutenant?” The receptionist stuttered, adjusting her glasses which had been thrown askew by Jess’ surprise entry. The poor pony looked like she would rather be anywhere else at the moment. Personally, I couldn't blame her.

Jess’ head rotated on her neck as she processed what had been said, her laser vision zeroing in on the receptionist and causing the poor mare to wilt under her icy glare. “Where. Is. Slide?” Jess growled.

The receptionist swallowed, leaning back and putting as much distance between herself and Jess as possible. “L-Lieutenant Windshear is off on assignment at the m-moment, ma’am,” the receptionist said, a bead of sweat sliding down her temple. Jess made a guttural noise not unlike a diamond dog.

The receptionist jumped. “U-uh I-I can um… leave him a message, if you w-want?”

I could hear Jess’ teeth grind. The receptionist paled. Idly I was thankful I wasn’t on the receiving end of whatever look Jess was giving her. Before Jess could respond, the door to one of the offices slammed open.

“WHO THE HELL IS MAKING NOISE IN MY-” The police chief bellowed as he emerged from his office. The storm gray buck took one glance at where Jess stood and stopped, his eyes drooping with weariness at the sight of her. “-office,” he finished lamely. “What is it this time, Jess?”

“Good morning, Chief,” Jess replied, meeting the chief's irritated glare with her own wrathful demeanor. “You’re just the pony I need to talk to.”

The chief's permanent frown deepened, age old wrinkles crinkling on his brow as he raised a hoof to his face. “Why do I have the feeling I’m not going to like this,” he groaned.

Jess gave him a predatory smile.

The Chief scowled. “My office. Now,” he grunted. A moment later he blinked, finally noticing that she hadn't come alone. As an afterthought, he pointed to me and added, “You, siddown and wait. This is official business and I don’t need some stupid civvie snooping around in it.” He didn't wait for my response. The chief charged back into his office, and Jess followed, storming over in her own manner to the Chief's office, and slamming the door behind her.

“Okay then,” I replied to the air. I didn't want to be in that conversation anyway. If Jess was right, I would be entering the Chief's office soon enough, if only to give him my take on our little adventure on Cirrus. Irritated, I took one of the waiting chairs by the receptionist desk and dutifully waited for whatever they wanted to do with me.

Silence fell over the office as the dust settled, the ponies in the office cautiously resuming their duties. The receptionist passed me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about the Chief, dear, he can be a bit…” the mare trailed off as she searched for the right word, “...direct.”

That was one way of putting it. I returned her smile with one of my own and shrugged. "Believe me when I say I'm used to it,” I replied. Given another hundred pounds and a dye job, the chief could have easily passed for Junkyard.

The receptionist stifled a giggle. “Yes, well, when it comes to the Lieutenant, I suppose you’re used to that kind of behavior. She seems to have taken a liking to you, at least.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Say again?”

The receptionist backpedaled, “W-well, I mean, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen her really work with anypony, not sin-”. The rest of her sentence died. Coming from the Chief’s office was a sound not unlike a volcano erupting, the whole building damn near shaking from the force.

“WHAT?!”

Productivity came to a screeching halt.

“Oh, dear.” The receptionist said.

*****

An hour into the shouting match, I almost regretted leaving everyone else with the Scrap Bandit. It was nostalgic in a way, and amusing to think that this was probably what other ponies saw whenever Junkyard and I had gotten into our own little altercations. To think that I had put up with it every day for years was either a testament to my perseverance or my stupidity. Every pony in the room flinched whenever the building would shake from the slam of hooves against desk, or the the heated argument taking place behind closed doors reached new levels of intensity. Still, even as the ponies in the office became more and more nervous, I got the sense that this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, and it definitely would not be the last. If anything, the shouting match made the other ponies work harder. Pens scribbled furiously as if to make a point that their owners were working hard. Even the receptionist seemed to double down on her work.

The mood only seemed to worsen when the door to the office suddenly opened. Jess poked her head out and called out in a voice that had been clearly strained. “Horizon? Come here, the boss wants you.”

Any amusement I might have had melted away as my sentence was pronounced. The receptionist passed me a pitiful look, and mouthed something like ‘good luck’ as I dutifully got to my hooves and made my way into ground zero. Jess stood aside so that I could enter the office, and then followed in after me, closing the door behind her.

It was the same stark office I remembered, the last time I had stood here. The Chief sat in his chair, grumpily regarding me with bored eyes and demeanor that vividly reminded me of Junkyard. The smell of coffee hung in the air, drifting over from a pot on a cabinet near his desk, mixed with the snuffed cigar sitting in the ashtray of his desk blotter. The photographs of the tired mare and the white filly were still there on his desk and I spared a quick glance between them and the mare standing next to me, connecting dots.

“Sit,” The Chief ordered. There was no emotion to his tone, nor room for argument. Lacking a chair, I sat on the floor, my nose idly twitching at the smell of the cigar sitting on his blotter.

The chief sighed. The storm gray buck looked like he had just ran a marathon, though I supposed that was more of an occupational hazard than anything else.

“I’ve heard a lot about you over the past few weeks,” the Chief said, “and I know this isn’t the first time you’ve sat in my office, either. Mr Seldat, right?”

I nodded, wisely choosing to keep my mouth shut.

The Chief nodded as if considering something, and then swept up the unlit cigar with his WAND and placed it in his mouth, idly chewing on the end instead of lighting it. “Yes, I remember you now. You were a murder trial, not even three weeks ago,” he nodded again. “You’re that buck who put one of ours in the hospital while attempting to escape the station.”

I swallowed. Technically I had been cleared of that, on account that I had covered the medical bills.

The chief continued, “Since then you’ve aided with the elimination of a known criminal, apparently rescued a foreign dignitary, and aided in the return of stolen military hardware in addition the capture of the pony responsible. You’ve been busy.”

“Just doing what any citizen would, sir.” I replied, doing my best not to make any stupid remarks.

The chief slammed his hoof against his desk, making me jump. “Don’t bullshit me, boy, I don’t have the time for posturing,” he sternly replied.

I kept my mouth shut.

The Chief sat a little straighter in his chair, leaning forward on the desk while he fixed me with what I assumed was his natural glare.

“Now, I am going to ignore the fact that you destroyed a piece of military hardware on the account that you did so at the behest of an agent of the PBJ. I am further willing to ignore that you illegally piloted another piece of said military hardware within protected airspace for the same reason. What you will tell me in return, are the exact circumstances that led to the capture of our little ship thief, and everything you saw and heard. Are we clear?”

I nodded. “Crystal, sir.”

“Good,” The chief said. Pulling out a small recorder with his WAND, he placed it on the desk between us with a small thump and slid it over in my direction with his hoof. The Chief then fixed me with a no-nonsense stare and said, “Start talking.”

So I did.

*****

My testimony lasted for the better part of a half-hour. During my description of events the Chief stopped me several times to clarify my actions at several points, specially noting around the time when the thief made his initial escape from us, and the events that followed. He made a look I couldn't read at Jess when I reached the part where we took the other bikes to pursue him but said nothing. Eventually, when I had finished answering his questions, he stopped the recording and instructed me to wait in the lobby.

Ten minutes later found me back in my chair near the reception desk. In the absence of a great deal of shouting, the tension in the room had slackened, if only just a little. All of the office employees were still on edge, including the occasional adventurous officer who wandered off toward the coffee pot. What followed was boredom. Jess continued talking and arguing with the Chief, the volume of their conversation rising and falling in spurts, and I sat watching one of the antique fans spin on the ceiling above the reception desk. It wasn’t long before my attention wandered. Waiting sucked. Granted I was no stranger to it--no pilot in the PC was--but no matter how numb I had become to it, it was still great at sucking the joy out of life. Until Jess' boss cleared me to go, I was stuck. I sighed wearily as I slouched in my seat and waited, and waited, and waited, until I finally got bored enough to talk to the only other person willing to really listen to me.

Hey Tex, you there?

Tex had been surprisingly quiet ever since we had left Cirrus. I wasn’t sure if I was eager to learn why, but seeing as I really had nothing better to do at the moment.

Mmmyeah? Came the AI’s delayed response. She sounded distracted, in the same way you might talk to somepony who was busy reading. Big surprise there.

You’ve been pretty quiet recently, is something up?

The filly made a noncommittal noise that felt like it reverberated in my head, soundless, yet audible as clear as day.

Not really, I’ve… just been reading, and thinking, and writing, and reading, working on your replacement programs… that sort of thing.

I smirked. But mostly reading, I thought at her.

But mostly reading. She confirmed with a contented sigh.

At least you sound like you're enjoying yourself. Reading what, exactly?

Oh you know, history, advances in science, that sort of thing. Oh, and fiction. Lots of fiction. She paused. Mostly fiction. It’s really amazing just how much volume a galaxy’s worth of authors can put out in a thousand years.

Internally, I was grateful my WAND wasn't a lease. I could only imagine what that data bill would have looked like. That did bring up an interesting question, though.

How long would it take you to burn through the entire galactic archives? I mean, with your speed I would figure you could probably process most of it instantly. I would think you would be able to get through most of it within a few days, and I know you've had more than a few opportunities. I thought with a frown.

Well, yes, I suppose that is true, I can process most of the information in a book within microseconds, but, really, what’s a good book if you’re not willing to take it slow? Tex replied. You can’t really enjoy a book if you’re just skimming all the time.

So aside from reading, what else are you doing? Besides occasionally kicking one of my brain cells.

A distant part of me wondered if I would have brain damage in my old age.

A sigh. Thinking. I guess. I mean it’s really the only thing I have left to do, really. I finished those replacement programs a while ago, so I’ve just been spinning my cycles in the meantime. You don’t seem to like being bothered by me either, so, really I’ve just been trying to keep to myself.

I winced. Most of what I’d said to her was a little on the rude side. Maybe I was tapping a little too much into my older self. OR my boss. I shuddered. Then again, should I really be this concerned about the feelings of an A.I.? Did she even have feelings?

Sounds lonely, I thought, mentally kicking myself.

There was a pause. A long pause.

Yes. It is, Tex finally replied.

Sorry, I said.

A look from the receptionist told me that I had spoken aloud. She held my gaze a moment with a skeptical eye while I felt my cheeks redden. With a slight shake of her head, she returned to her work.

Sorry? for what? Tex asked.

For being short with you. I know I’m not the nicest pony, and I haven’t exactly been the greatest conversationalist either, I thought.

Well, no one’s perfect, but thank you. Tex said. Really, it’s just nice to be able to talk to ponies again. You have no idea what it's like to be stuck in a starship for eight hundred years. And as far as conversation goes, I've talked to worse.

I took the jab for what it was. She wasn't wrong. Probably. Hopefully. Muffled conversation floated out from the Chief’s office, sounding very much like Jess and the Chief were wrapping up her conversation.

Sounds like they’re almost done in there. I thought.

Yeah. I don't have access to any of the listening devices in here, but I estimate that they have about three minutes left in their conversation. Tex replied. Give or take a few seconds.

I blinked. This room is wired? I thought.

The whole building, actually. I can see some of their access nodes on the network, barely, anyway, they're concealed pretty well. They're in every room except the office you were just in.

Security measure? Or something else? I thought idly. I shelved the thought for later.

A moment passed in quiet contemplation as I stared at the door to the Chief’s office. My mind wandered away to math, and a particularly boggling thing about Tex that had me questioning my sanity. Tex, can I ask you a question?

You are perfectly capable of asking a question. May you? Well I suppose I could at least listen, Tex replied.

Yeah, okay smartass, way to kill the mood. I thought with a groan. The noise caught the attention of the receptionist who spared another glance in my direction before silently returning to her work. Why do you love books so much? I mean, you’ve obviously gone to town with my library access if the feeds I keep getting are any indication. They probably think I’m one of the most well-read ponies on the station by now, or a stupid troll, more likely.

Well, They’re books! I mean, what’s not to love? They’re full of the passion of their authors with differing viewpoints that evolved over centuries. I mean, entire archives could probably be written on the equilogical studies of the continued evolution of pony society! You can tell so much about a society and its struggles based on its art and literature. Social values, behavior, everything, really. Plus the stories are nice too, even if it’s the same seven stories over and over again. Fresh perspectives make them interesting, especially when you compare them to what the authors were living through at the time.

I was struggling to keep up. I still managed, somehow. Alright, but how can you remember it all? Even with the storage I bought for you I don’t think it could hold the entirety of the public library system. Where does it all go? How can you even remember who you are with all that data?

I…well… The sound of Tex’s voice trailed off. It’s all…fuzzy, to be honest. I mean, I know it’s out there, and I whenever I do remember something I can usually find the rest of it, but I can't exactly pinpoint it in my memory. It’s like trying to find a pointer to something that lost its target. It’s there, and I know it’s there, but until I can get the pointer focused back in the right place, I can’t find it. It’s like there's this big wall sitting between where I am and what I’m looking for and it’s just…just so frustrating!

Tex raged. She made a noise not out of place on a nature documentary, before finally settling back down.

I’m sorry, this whole thing has gotten me a little hot under the collar, to quote an old Diamond Dog saying. But to answer your question, I don’t know how I remember it all, I just do and sometimes I don’t. I don’t know how it works, and that’s what I find most frustrating of all. Part of me wishes I could just, I dunno, dissect myself and study what makes me tick, but I can’t exactly work that way, and what if I screw up? I’m literally the only pony capable of pulling myself back together. I don’t want to hurt myself by accidentally changing the wrong thing. I’ve already lost so much thanks to the virus, the thought of losing more is… terrifying. I don’t want to lose anything else. I don’t want to become... less.

I grimaced. That got dark in a hurry. I’m sorry if I brought up some bad memories, er, so to speak.

No, no. It’s not that, I mean, it’s like… She trailed off as she searched for an analogy. It's like being mortal. What am I but memories? Do machines have souls? Or constructs? Or whatever I am? Is my data even mine? I am a collection of recorded experiences; if I forget everything, isn’t that the same as dying?

I don’t know how to answer you to be honest, I admitted. I’m not exactly equipped for this kind of conversation. I think I do get the gist of what you’re saying, though. You’re afraid of dying.

No, Tex replied. The virus hasn’t touched any of my critical systems, just my data. If it it finishes... I’m not afraid of dying, Horizon, I’m afraid of what would happen if I survived.

I swallowed at that. Didn’t you say you had a backup somewhere, though? Couldn't you restore the data?

Tex was silent.

Tex?

It’s gone. She said quietly.

...what?

When you let me use your credentials, I went looking for my databases. They’re all gone. Every last one is gone. I’m… I’m all that’s left of me.

My mouth worked for a moment as I tried to process. The effort was ultimately futile. A moment later, the door to the office opened and I looked up from the floor in time to see Jess poke her head out and spot me on the bench.

“Horizon? I need you over here again, the boss wants to talk with you again.” Nodding, I got back to my hooves.

We’re gonna talk about this later, okay Tex?

Yeah, sure… She replied.

*****

The chief was not in a good mood. That was fine. After what I had just learned, a grumpy pony was just what I needed to get my mind off things.

“Sit,” he said. His voice devoid of emotion. I figured he must have spent it all arguing with Jess. I did as asked.

The chief nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Alright then,” the chief said, adjusting his seat. His elbows hit the desk as he leaned forward, concealing his mouth behind his hooves and giving me the greatest look of stern contemplation I had ever seen.

Wisely, I kept my mouth shut.

“You,” The chief began, addressing me in a stern monotone. “As far as I’m concerned, you are a menace.” He said. “Wherever you go, I end up neck deep in paperwork, and get even more migraines. I dare say it would be stupid of me to let you wander around, given your propensity for leaving everything you step on in pieces.” The chief sighed, leaned back, and smirked. “Fortunately for you, I don’t always make smart decisions.”

“You have single-hoofedly given me the means to get rid of one of the worst thorns in my side for the last ten years. And while you are certainly a nuisance when it comes to generating paperwork, you also seem to have a knack for getting results. Your work with my lieutenant seems evidence enough for that, even despite setbacks. Which is why I am offering you this.”

The chief swayed in his seat, leaning over the side of his chair while pulling out a tablet from a desk drawer and dropping it on the desk’s surface. He turned it with a hoof and slid it in my direction so the text was facing me. “I am offering you a position as an independent contractor of the Bureau of Justice.”

I looked at the tablet, and the lengthy wall of legalese that was on it.

The chief cleared his throat, if only to regain my attention. “Make no mistake. I’m not doing this as a gesture of goodwill. Having you as a contractor means you will be legally authorized to work alongside other authorities and be subject to the same rules of conduct that they are. In return, you will be legally under my authority as chief of police and you will report to me. I am giving you this so that I can keep my eye on you. Something, I fear, that will inevitably give me even more migraines in the future, but is necessary for the public good." He leaned forward in his chair and glared. "You will accept this contract.”

“What if I don’t?” I dared to ask.

The chief smiled predatorily. “Then I can remember all of the damage you’ve caused in the few weeks since your release, and find some other reason to put you back in that lovely cell you occupied a few weeks back.”

The chief put a stylus next to the tablet, and waited. Levitating it with my WAND, I signed.

“Good,” the Chief said, “now I can tell you the rest of it. Jess, close the door.”

He knew about the listening devices, I realized.

“Rest of it? Uh, sir?” I said as Jess secured the door. My new boss waited for Jess to finish before replying.

“Yes. The rest of it.” He said with a heavy sigh. His voice dropped a few decibels, far below what I figured could be heard from outside. “First of all, there’s the issue of Officer Windshear.”

He turned to Jess, “I have just been informed by the interrogation team that the pony you two brought in gave testimony that confirms the one your report. Officer Windshear did, in fact, release classified military override codes to a third party, and possibly more. All of the codes will now need to be changed because of this breach and in doing this he has committed treason against the state. As such, I am placing an APB on him.” He looked Jess squarely in the eye, “What he has done has betrayed the trust of every officer in the State. If you find him, take him out.”

Jess smiled with a smile I hoped I would never see again. “With pleasure, sir,” she replied.

“Now for you,” he said, turning his attention to me. It was hard not to stand a little straighter. “You are aware of details of your case, are you not?”

I nodded uncertainly, “Vividly.”

“Good, because what I am about to tell you isn’t going to leave this room.” The chief said. “Your case has been sealed.”

“What?!” Jess nearly yelled. The outburst earned her a warning glance from the chief.

“I said about the same thing, actually. Your friend the defense lawyer was equally livid.” The chief said.

I was about to voice an objection when he raised a hoof to stop me. “I know. Just shut up and listen."

The chief leaned back in his seat, retrieving the cigar from his desk and placed it back in his mouth. “I’ve seen the evidence that Mr. Chance has been compiling from various cases. I’ve seen the connections he’s been making and all of the progress with it. So call it no surprise that I know a cover-up when I see one. An independent team was sent to recover his files. They confiscated everything in an unsanctioned raid and told Mr. Chance in no uncertain terms to abandon his research and all contact with his informants.”

Cold fury burned in my veins. “What the fuck…”

“I didn’t order it,” the Chief said. “The team that destroyed the evidence was not under my supervision. If it were up to me, I would have gelded every last one of them.” His expression soured. “As far as I know, the order came from high above my pay grade. And as such, my hooves are tied.”

“This isn’t getting better.” I commented. The chief smiled.

The Chief pointed at Jess. “You are still on suspension,” the chief said. “Obviously you were never here for me to tell you that you should not be involved in a matter that you are clearly out-of-date on. You’re still free to operate of course, but until I reactivate your status, I don’t really have any reason to keep tabs on you.”

He then pointed at me. “And you, you’re just a contractor. All you’re authorized to do is assist an officer of the PBJ in whatever way they deem necessary to complete their job. It is not your job to question their motives or whether or not they are still an active member of the PBJ. Anything you do will be at the behest of whoever you may be assisting at the time. You will, of course, report to me all of your progress so that I may be appropriately frustrated with your actions.”

The chief cleared his throat, genuinely smiling for the first time I’d ever seen. The look on him was both unique and terrifying. “You will not get further involved in this case, you will not deliver to me any evidence that may assist in the exposure of any would be conspirators, and you will not give me plausible deniability for your actions. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” I said.

“Good,” The chief said, his demeanor slipping back into his usual grumpy self. “Welcome to the PBJ. Get out.”

*****

When we left the police headquarters, Jess excused herself for a moment, saying that she had forgotten something. She left me standing on the curb outside of the building while I waited for the cab that would eventually take us back to the docks, and from there, the ship. Not that I could really take it anywhere at this point. We were within Pegasus sovereign territory, and with my license suspended, the Scrap Bandit wouldn’t be getting out of port any time soon. As far as I was concerned, the Bandit had just become my crappier apartment. Either that, or I’d be blowing all of Junkyard’s money on hotels while I tried to find a pilot stupid enough to fly the ‘legendary’ Scrap Bandit.

The thought of hotels reminded me that I still needed to update everyone else on what had just happened, and tell Fritter the bad news. Granted, I would have bet bits that Fritter already knew, but I still needed to talk to him. I also needed to talk to him about Tick.

The door to the police headquarters opened and Jess strode back out into the artificial sunlight.

“Got it! Sorry about the wait.”

“Got what?” I asked.

Jess flashed me a mischevious smile, “It’s a secret. You don’t mind if we take a detour for a bit, do you? I want to surprise a pony.”

I thought for a moment. We were on L6-C. There was really only one pony I could think of on the short list of friends we shared. “Prism?”

“Prism,” Jess said with a nod.

Just then, I remembered a question I had kicking around the back of mind. “By the way, Jess?”

“What’s up?” she replied.

“I couldn’t help but notice a certain photograph on the police chief’s desk… is he your…”

Jess groaned. “No! Oh, gods no. Well, sorta,” she shook her head. “He’s not my father, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure? That filly looked an awful lot like-”

“Godfather,” Jess sighed, “he’s my godfather. It’s a long story.”

I watched as the cab descended to the curb. “It’s a long car ride,” I replied.

Jess rolled her eyes. “Ugh, fine, just get in.”

I pulled open the door for for. We mounted up and got comfortable in the back seat while Jess gave the cab directions for DJ’s. In moments we were up and away, comfortably entering the press of mid-afternoon traffic.

“Alright, spill.” I said, lounging in my corner of the back seat and flashing her an expectant smile.

“I’m adopted,” Jess said. “There, happy?”

“That’s not a very long story,” I commented with a shit eating grin.

“Some day I am going to murder you.” Jess muttered, shaking her head while shifting around to get more comfortable.

“Just wait till you know me for more than six weeks,” I said.

“I can already see why you were Prism’s favorite punching bag,” Jess remarked.

“I still have the bruises, I think,” I said. “You were saying?”

Jess rolled her eyes. “The chief is my godfather. He agreed to adopt me when my dad... yeah.”

My smile fell. “I’m… sorry, I didn’t realize.”

Jess shook her head, “No, it’s not your fault. It’s not exactly something I broadcast to the whole world. Well, Prism knows, but that’s about it.”

“May I ask what happened?” I asked.

“Sure,” Jess sighed, “Dad… well. I lost Dad about twenty years ago. He was working undercover in the cartels, trying to gather enough evidence to nail the ponies making crash for the stations near the border. He spent months out in Celestia knew where, while he built up his rep with the Stormclouds. The chief and my dad had a good relationship at the time, and while the chief knew of his dispatch, no one else on the force did. He was so good at hiding it, that they thought he’d gone traitor.”

“That sounds like it wouldn’t go over well.” I replied

“There’s an understatement,” Jess muttered. “His reputation got around, and because he was so maligned the cartels caught wind of it.”

“Oh dear.”

“Oh, yeah. But thankfully they got greedy,” Jess smiled wistfully, “Dad led them on with the act, but since they knew of his connections, they started forcing him to get stuff for them from the PBJ to prove his loyalty.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t just shoot him,” I said.

“They had plenty of opportunities, that’s for sure. But the shipments of weapons he was able to get for them placated them enough to get stupid.” Jess replied. “The chief okayed it, if only to keep up the act. It wasn’t until the raid when everything went to hell.”

Jess mellowed, and took a breath. “Three different precincts raided a major Stormcloud safehouse during one of the deals my Dad had to make. None of them knew he was undercover.” Jess exhaled. “Dad never stood a chance.”

“Dad went down on my twelfth birthday. Because he was always away, Mom had left him for some rich doctor in the pearl district, and I was stuck at home. I moved around with Dad on his assignments, but I wasn’t in the dark about what he did. I wasn’t a stupid filly. I knew his job was dangerous, and when the Chief came by to tell me what happened,” Jess sniffed. “Oh, goddesses, I don’t know if I could tell you how much I cried that day.”

I looked out the window at the passing traffic, “Believe me when I say I could probably guess.”

Jess looked up, “You too, huh?”

“I lost my mother when I was young. I’d rather leave it at that. The details are… a little fuzzy. I said, and then changing the subject, I asked, “So the Chief adopted you?”

Jess nodded. “Yup. The chief and Dad were good friends in the years before the raids, and he and his wife couldn’t conceive, so I suppose it all worked out in the end. If you ask me, though, I think he felt guilty about what happened to Dad. I still get a lot of shit for that.

“So, years later, here I am," Jess said. "Proud officer of the PBJ with a cushy job and a decent paycheck. Of course being related to the chief helped with that. All I have to do is keep my nose clean and keep setting a sterling example for the others to follow. Not that they care past their jibes.”

“The ponies in the office didn’t seem all that bad,” I said.

Jess laughed, “Well the office is usually quiet, it’s just when the other headhunters get involved that I really start getting shit-on. Slide was usually the worst about it. At least now I have something to nail him for. Wherever he is.” Jess frowned, “I am so going to get that fucker.”

And I believed her. "So on a scale of one to ten, how fucked is Slide?" I asked.

Jess smiled and flicked her tail, "Forty. APB's like this one usually have a bounty attached. Every single officer in the PBJ is going to be on the lookout for him and all the independents, too, depending on how much it's worth. And for something like this, it's gonna be a lot of bits. Once the details get out, Slide's done, one way or another. It's just a matter of time before somepony shoots him or hauls his ass in."

Jess sat back, glanced out the window and then looked back at me with a conspiratory smirk. “Alright, bucko, you’ve heard my sad backstory, how about yours? What muck did you land in to make you the great and powerful garbagemare?”

It was hard not to groan. I suppose I earned that one, I did drive a glorified garbage truck after all.

“Not much to tell. I did things in my youth that I’m not comfortable discussing with a police officer,” I said.

“I was wanted for six counts of arson,” Jess replied.

I blinked, “really?”

She shrugged, “Okay, five. I was a troubled youth after Dad passed. And that time with the lighter really doesn’t count.” She waved it off, “continue.”

Welp, might as well get it over with. I rolled my eyes, before calling up my various ghosts. “I’m a fader. My mom died when I was eight. Dad left when I was old enough to get a job. That’s it,” I said.

“Bullshit. How did your Mom die?” Jess replied.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I was eight,” I snorted, “and stupid.”

Jess shook her head, “Okay then, sob story, what about your dad?”

“He joined the military and left,” I said. “I spent a few years picking up the pieces of my dreams in his wake. I sold drugs to pay rent, at my lowest.”

Jess grimaced, “So which cartel did your fixer work for?”

I shook my head, “None of em. He was some small time jock who ended up dead in some alleyway one night. I was just the delivery colt. I saw it on the news and started looking for new jobs. Not that they were plentiful. I met Junkyard shortly afterward. That was… a trip.”

“What was your dad’s name?” Jess asked.

I had to stretch for that one. It’d been so long I had to remember. “Winterfrost,” I finally replied. “Winterfrost Seldat, although his friends just called him Frost. He was… different.”

“Different how?” Jess asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Let’s just say that my mom had a taste for the exotic and leave it at that. Not that it mattered much, the only thing I got from dad was his eye color. Recessive genes and all that.”

Jess shrugged, “Okay, what about your Mom? Do you remember what she was like?” Jess asked.

I smiled, “Vaguely. She was a pegasus, sorta like dad. Fader, I learned later. She beat the odds. Dad loved her, I think.”

“What was her name?” Jess asked.

Mom’s name was at least something I could remember easily. It was hard to forget that newspaper clipping. “Sunrise,” I said solemnly, “Sunrise Andante Seldat.”

The cab slowed as we reached our destination. I shook my head, “Enough of my sap. We’re here. Shall we give Prism a pleasant surprise?”

“Of course!” Jess said, smiling.

*****

In the heat of the moment, I failed to remember something fairly important. Namely, Prism hated surprises, and when it came to fight or flight reflexes, she fell squarely in to the first category. Prism didn't apologize for the black eye she gave me, but she was at least kind enough to grab a makeshift icepack from the back, which I gently applied to my face with a hoof.

The three of us sat at a table inside DJ’s, picking at our late lunches while sharing a variety of melty shakes and cocktails that were more water than alcohol. I didn’t mind, really, I was just happy to be eating something. The food distracted me from my throbbing face, anyway.

“I can’t believe you guys are here right now! Last I heard you were off on Cirrus!” The red pegasus squealed. “I mean Cirrus of all places! I’ve always wanted to go there!”

“I dunno, a mare like you might have trouble staying airborne,” I joked. Fortunately, my reflexes were good enough to dodge the glass that followed. I caught it with my WAND before I had to pay for it.

“Jackass,” Prism jeered, “but seriously, spill! What was it like?”

Jess looked at me, “Well? Mr hoof-in-mouth? Tell our sweet, fiery pegasus what the Golden wonders of Cirrus are like.”

“Wet,” I replied.

Prism stared. “Really? Your first time going planetside, and all you have to say is that it's wet."

“He took a shortcut through a class four while we were chasing down our target,” Jess explained with a laugh.

Prism groaned, "Oh my god, Horizon, were you born stupid?"

"Probably," I replied.

"Oh, I don't know about that. You should have seen the shot he made when we finally bagged our thief," Jess said. "Port hit, right on his compensator. I don't think I've ever seen a pony spin so fast."

I shook my head, "I can't really take credit for that one, Tex did most of the work, all I had to do was line up a dot."

Aww, thank you! Tex said.

Jess shrugged, "It was still a good shot. If you're stupid, then you must be a savant."

"It would explain a lot, that's for sure," Prism said. "So what brings you guys here?"

Jess sighed, setting her drink down and leaning back in her seat. “Business, mostly. I had to get a few things sorted on the station, and a little revenge to boot.”

“Don’t tell me, Slide?” Prism asked.

Jess nodded, “got it in one," she replied.

“Ugh, what did that dickbag do this time?” Prism said.

“Classified,” Jess said with a smirk.

“Ooh, scandalous! I hope you get him,” Prism said.

“Oh, I do too, believe me.” Jess replied. "And if not me, then somepony else. I doubt there's anypony more fucked in the galaxy than he is right now."

“What about you, Horizon? From the way things have been going the two of you seem to be working together pretty often,” Prism said taking a sip from her shake.

“Not by choice,” I replied. “She just keeps dragging me off to the next job. If you could call them that.”

“Keep that up and I’ll finish turning you into a raccoon,” Jess added dryly. Prism snickered.

I shrugged. “Still, it’s less boring than scrapping satellites all day so who am I to complain? The pay is better too,” I added.

At the mention of money, Prism sighed. “Well at least some of us are making bits,” she said with a shake of her head. Remembering something, she brightened. “Actually!” Prism said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin before continuing in hushed tones. “There’s a chance I might be getting my old job back at the tower!”

“Really?” Jess said, sitting straight up in her seat.

Prism nodded twice her smile beaming. “Yeah! I got a call from my old boss about it. Apparently the new gal didn’t quite work out. So he wants me back!”

I smiled. Finally, something in our lives was going right.

*****

The conversation lasted for the better part of an hour, although most of it was lost on me. Mare talk, general catching up, some other stuff I didn't understand, I spent most of the conversation drinking my cocktail and feigning interest while feeling more and more like a third wheel. Thankfully, I had a distraction. Tex had gotten bored, and started a rant about how poor the local security had gotten, making a demonstration of a nearby speaker that probably gave several patrons heart attacks. I had a good laugh about it, which, of course, drew confused looks from both Jess and Prism and led to yet another awkward explanation that, no, I wasn't going crazy. Well, maybe just a little.

As our get together dragged on, I decided to change the topic.

“So, are you gonna give her that thing?” I asked Jess.

Both mares looked at me quizzically. “What thing?” They said in unison.

“That thing you grabbed from the office before we got our cab,” I said.

Jess brightened. “Oh! That! I almost forgot! Actually, that was for you.”

I blinked twice while Jess rustled around in her pack for it. “For me?” I said.

“For him?!” Prism said incredulously.

“Relax, girl, I got you some souvenirs from Cirrus too,” Jess replied

“Yessss!” Prism cheered, pumping a hoof.

“Okay Horizon,” Jess announced, pulling out a tablet and setting it on the table in front of me. “I’m a mare of my word, although you wouldn’t believe how many strings I had to pull for this one.”

I glanced over the first few lines, and dropped my drink with a loud crash.

Horizon Seldat: Pilot License 719A34

Status: Active

I had my license back. I had my license back! I picked up the pad with two hooves and stared, not daring to touch it with my WAND’s magic. Fervently, I poured over the rest of the tablet’s contents, and rapidly verified that, yes, it was, in fact, real.

“I had a nice long chat with the boss about it,” Jess said, reclining in her seat and taking a long sip from her cocktail, “ I figured since you’ve done so much work for the State that you might as well get that little thing back, right? And...I might have convinced the processing office to tack on a little extra or two,” she said with a smirk. “Perks of working in the business.”

It was just that moment that I spotted her little addition. Right underneath the lines detailing my access permissions were a set of magical, magical words.

Docking Queue: Military and Civil Service personnel. Elevated Priority.

I stared in mute wonder at the sentence, my brain struggling to process the depth of what exactly I was reading. I had priority status! Normally it was reserved for ponies who either paid out the nose or worked for the State. Well, technically I did work for the State now, but either way, it meant something wonderful:

I would never, ever see a queue again.

“Oh. my. Celestia! He’s crying!”

******

The rest of our get together went by in a blur. Words were said, stories were had, cocktails were drained. After the euphoria of getting my license back, nothing else really seemed to register. Before I knew it, we were saying our goodbyes on the curb outside. Prism was starting her shift, and I had a few errands to run.

My first stop was by the local real estate office. For all intents and purposes I was done with Junkyard’s office, and I really did not want to pay rent for the entire damn scrapyard. After signing papers for an hour, it was done. Junkyard’s shop officially belonged to the government, and I officially got maybe a tenth of its actual worth. The bits were forwarded to my account.

After that, I went looking for housing for the night. I sent out a ping to everyone else and found them at a hotel in one of the wealthier districts near main hangar and dropped in to explain what had taken me so long. Reactions were mixed, mostly indifferent and we all made plans to head back to Winter's Edge the following morning. I ran out to buy lunch for the crew. We all shared a quick meal and went our separate ways for the night. Business done, I rented a small room and spent the rest of the night admiring the tremendous gift Jess had given me while quietly reminiscing about the old times.

I felt weird sitting in that hotel. L6-C had too many memories, most of them bad. Most ponies spent their whole lives here, living and dying on the streets, working their thankless jobs with no hope of escaping the grind. Sure, ponies could make do. Sure, you could certainly settle for what you could get, but not me. I'd wanted an out for a long time, and I finally had my ticket. With my license back I could go anywhere. I was finally free. I could fly anywhere in the PC or elsewhere. I could go anywhere in the universe that I wanted. I could take any job, I could do anything, and with priority status, I could do it in times that would make most veterans jealous. I had a ship, I had a license, hell, I even had a crew—well, sorta. The point was, I could compete. I could do it. I could actually fly. My terms. My way. In free and open skies. Maybe I could even start up a trading business. I had the capital for it thanks to Junkyard. Granted, it wouldn’t be the most glorious start, but, with time and the right contacts, I was sure I could build it into something, and as far as contacts went, I already had a pony for that.

My possibilities were endless. I couldn’t help but feel giddy at the looming prospect of true freedom while I hugged the small tablet to my chest on the hotel bed. In that moment, despite all the things I'd been through, despite the plots, secrets, and turmoil, everything felt right with the world.

I had trouble sleeping that night, and for once it was for all the right reasons.

******

“So... you’re really going, then?” Prism asked.

The next morning had come, and with it new responsibilities. I had received a message from Fritter asking me to see him, and I had a feeling that I knew why. Junkyard’s killer was still out there, somewhere, and word of the investigation’s status would have doubtlessly reached him long before it had reached me. That, of course, frustrated me to no end, but if it was going to be easy, I wouldn’t have needed to meet these ponies to do it.

I was done with L6-C. I was free to pursue my answers, and I had nothing left to tie me to my old home. I stood with Prism at one of the few observation areas overlooking the priority docks with my flight suit on and my helmet at the ready, while everypony else waited for me on the elevator.

I nodded slowly, giving Prism a smile that felt more genuine than any I could remember. “Yeah. I think I’m done with L6-C for a while. There’s a lot of memories here, but, most of it’s just baggage. I sold Junkyard’s shop.”

Prism laughed. “I was wondering about that. It didn’t make sense to me to dump your old apartment, but keep the office. I was starting to think you were planning on sleeping there.”

“It would be more comfortable,” I said with a grin.

Prism laughed. “Knowing your habits, that really doesn’t surprise me.”

She sighed, her voice becoming progressively more serious, “Well, if I don’t see you again soon, be sure to at least send me a message, okay? You and Jess have been getting into a lot of trouble lately, and the last thing I want to hear is you both got blown up in some accident or something. I don't want to see you two get hurt,” Prism said.

“Are you actually worried about me?” I asked curiously.

“Oh look! The bitch has feelings, big surprise,” Prism said, rolling her eyes, “Yes. Yes I am. I do in fact care about what happens to my friends—especially lately. I’ve been hearing a lot of nasty rumors from some of the patrons at the club. Normally I wouldn’t care, but some of them have been getting downright scary. Just watch your backs, okay?”

I nodded. “I will, thanks Prism,” I said, meaning it. She smiled at the gesture, and then checked her watch.

“Looks like it’s time for me to go; I have the early shift today. Good luck out there!” Prism said.

“Thanks Prism, you too,” I replied.

I walked to the airlock and turned, taking one last glance at Prism while the elevator doors started closing. Locking eyes with her, I gave her a final, sharp salute with my right wing.

I watched as her form disappeared through the closing doors of the elevator, and with a final, resolute bang, she was gone.

50% Remaining...

Author's Note

I got hung up during editing during the scene at DJ's. I ended up cutting a scene that I'm still kicking myself for, but I just couldn't get it to flow the right way. I think I've still got the original scene, as choppy and awkward as it felt. I'm a little disappointed about it. I had a nice jibe between Tex and Jess that got cut for the final draft.

Sorry for the extra wait on this. I've just finished my finals for what has been a pretty brutal quarter for my Computer Science coursework. Assembly language is no joke, lbut I still managed to pull a B out of it. Small victories. I'm also taking my vacation from work right now, which has lined up fantastically. I've got the next seven days free, and I'm going to be spending it catching up on all the little projects I didn't have time for. It's truly amazing how much you can get done(or not get done) when you don't have the dreaded prospect of work looming over you.

I hope you enjoy the chapter. Onto the next.

22.5 - Secure Communication 10:04 AM, September 9, 4131 EC

Communication Systems Chatlog: 41310909-10:04:56
Transcribed from audio

<< Horizon where are you?

>> I’m stopped at an M-NET beacon enroute to Joe’s pickup. It was the closest one I could find. I got your message. What’s the news?

<< So you’re still in your ship? Great. Drop everything and go to Four Corners as fast as you can.

>> The trade hub? Why?

<< No time. I’m sending you a file. The details are in there. Get there as fast as you can.

>> The fuck dude! At least answer my question!

>> Fritter? Hello?

File Transfer Received: “URGENT!”
Sender: Cherry Fritter AS SZ16297
Decrypting…
.
..
…
.
..
…
Done.

Contents:
**********
Horizon. Chance sent me his case files just before the raid. I got most of them, but he was still uploading him when they hit. One of my contacts somehow intercepted the order, and he managed to trace it to the system they’re using as their back channel. I need you to get me into that system. Jess won’t like this, probably, but this is our best chance at finding out who these guys are, and our window is very short.

What I need for you to do is to patch in a very specific line of code into the communication server at the Four Corners Bazaar. The communication logs there are archived every three days, and once they hit the database, all the records on the comm server are wiped clean. I have no chance in hell of getting into that database, but we can skim the data as it gets sent which is just as good. But in order to make it work, it needs to be done quietly. If anyone. ANYONE. Finds out about this, then this whole thing is gonna go all sorts of sideways.

I know you don’t like taking risks, and this is a big one, but you wanted answers, and right now, this is the only real lead we have.

You have twelve hours before the wipe. Good luck, and stay safe.
-SZ
This message has (1) attachment(s)
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Author's Note

More later today.