The Lunar Worlds

The time had come for the royal sisters to retire, and with it the reign of Princess Twilight Sparkle had begun. Under the rule of the Element of Magic incarnate, Equestria saw an unparalleled age of peace and marvelous arcano-scientific advancements.

However, while Celestia had grown tired of governing the land for over a thousand years, that was not the case for Luna. After all, the younger sister had been banished during the gist of it, and as such she still longed for the experience of ruling a kingdom of her own.

Not wanting to impose herself over the existing realms around Equestria, followed by a herd of her most loyal subjects, the Princess of the Night took to the stars in search of adventure and a place to call her own.

And so, after numerous years of exciting space exploration, the colony of Lunaria was founded. With the wishful thinking that everypony who proved themselves should aspire to rule one day, the Night Princess established a hierarchical gubernamental system akin to that of private institutions. Thus The Lunar Corporation was created, headed by Chairmare Luna herself.

Nevertheless, Luna's departure had left a void in Equestria that nopony would ever be able to fulfill, and a dark shadow creeped over the land.

* * * * *

The Lunar Worlds

Chapter 1:

The Element of Harmony

* * * * *

Still farming apples and barely managing to scrape by?

Stop missing out and come to Lunaria, the new colony on the edge of the galaxy founded by the Princess of the Night herself!

But a long trip like that must be exhausting you might think. Worry not, as our state-of-the-art cryosleep technology will make the journey feel like seconds.

Wake up in the kingdom of your dreams designed to maximize your productivity, with full employment guaranteed!*

You're but a hoofprint away from becoming the master of your own destiny as you venture out of Equestria and into The Lunar Worlds.

What are you waiting for? Go Lunar!

* Full employment not guaranteed.

* * * * *

Serene darkness embraces me as I lay suspended in the peaceful realm of oblivion. A faint echo gently washes over my dream.

"...still alive and not liquefying? Good."

Sharp sensations rush across my body. Thousand needles. Pain. I remember the feeling now. I want to escape, I want to go back to my sanctuary.

"Easy now, you've been in cryosleep for quite a few more years than you should have. I guess we can say you're way past your shelf life!"

My eyes reluctantly open, fighting back dim lights that burn like fiery suns. It’s intense, but the blinding haze slowly subsides until I can see clearly again. Standing before me is an older mare wearing a lab coat and sporting a rather unkempt, graying blonde mane. Between us, a metallic hatch of sorts with nothing but a tiny glass window for me to see her through. I can't feel my legs or… well, anything for that matter.

"I found you frozen in The Harmony among your friends,” the mare says. “Big Equestrian colony spaceship, remember? For some reason it left skip-space early and had to complete the trip here at sub-light speeds."

I try to make sense of the words I hear, but I’m having trouble understanding a thing. Am I supposed to be breathing now? How do I go about it, again?

“You see, prolonged cryosleep usually leads to horrific awakenings. However, I revitalized you with a concoction of my own design. They said it couldn't be done, but look who's laughing now? I did it! I woke you up!” the mad scientist says with a grin so large that it practically radiates with an irrational hatred towards The Batmare.

"It wasn't an easy task though… In fact I've pretty much exhausted my resources just bringing you back. If we’re to have any hope of doing the same for your friends, then I’m gonna need your help resupplying," sighs the pony with deep resignation.

As if I hadn’t had enough rude awakenings, suddenly, EXPLOSIONS! Everything shakes. The scientist trips. Debris flies across the room. Fire alarms trigger. Thank Grover I've not fully recovered my hearing yet or that roaring might have hurt.

"Oh… Oh, that ain't good. Listen, there's something terribly wrong with this colony. I’d normally fix everything myself but Luna has set a sizable bounty on my head and my ship is badly damaged. Eternium, remember it. I'm gonna need as much as you can find."

A red light begins to flicker, prompting the mare to desperately fiddle with a few buttons here and there. By the look of it, it seems as if she herself is not too sure of what she's doing.

"Looks like we're in position. I've to send you off now, before they arrive. The landing will be rough but I'm at least eighty-seven percent sure you will survive. I mean, you're not a fleshy muddy blob yet and that's excellent news!"

The overly optimistic toned words bounce right off my ears and completely fail to reassure me.

"There will be a friend of mine waiting for you, a nice and dependable mare. A specialist smuggler, gunslinger and all that good stuff. You’ll like her I'm sure! She'll fill you in and take good care of you. I will also keep in touch through wireless."

The mare pushes something, and my cabin begins slowly sinking beneath the floor. Wait, have I been in some sort of escape pod all along?

"Now I'd wish you luck, but that's worthless. What you need is logic and careful planning. Never forget that!"

With a profoundly heartbroken expression, and almost unsure of the proper pronunciation, the scientist finally exclaims, "Ah-lon...zee!"

The pod violently detaches from the ship. Despite my still numb muscles I can clearly feel the raw power of the accelerative force now gluing me to the pod's walls. And for the first time in who knows how long, my mouth produces sound... in a much higher pitch than I thought to be capable of.

"AAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEE"

The vastness of space surrounds me, the scientist's ship quickly shrinking into the distance while the alien planet I’m launched toward gets bigger and bigger. The absurd speed I’m hurdling at keeps me pinned in place and trying to keep myself from passing out appears to be a losing battle. Before long, however, my consciousness slips away and once more I embrace the now familiar void of nothingness.

* * * * *

For the second time in forever, I wake up.

Everything is a mess, more so than it already was. The pod is completely wrecked, just like every fiber of my body. There isn't a single muscle that doesn't hurt as I try to move, yet the fact that I am finally moving again paints a smile on my beak.

I start fiddling with the hatch controls of the pod instinctively, and actually get it to open. The hissing and whirring of the machine releasing me draws out of me a distant memory from what seemed like a lifetime ago. I had done this many times before. Perhaps too many times.

As I proceed to exit the pod, I notice the flickering of a tiny worn down screen that floated near the corner of my left eye. It's attached to a helm I hadn't realised I was wearing, unlike the rather uncomfortable hibernation suit which I can hardly ignore. The mad scientist mare appears on the screen, grinning widely.

"You survived! Great! I mean I completely expected you to, my calculations are always right after all. I make them myself so they must be," she proudly claims.

The sudden sight of her proves to be enough distraction to make me trip on my paws, yet just before my beak can bury itself in the ground, everything slows down.

Everything but, strangely enough, me.

The mare's voice distorts into something unintelligible and as gravity recedes its pull, I break my fall into a somersault with a mindblowing display of agility no creature should be able to have. After having just woken up from cryosleep and crash landed from space, that shouldn’t have been the case for me.

And just like that, though, time returns to its usual speed.

"Wow, way to make an entrance, or exit. Onto the planet or from the pod, I mean. Not sure if I should attribute those remarkable reflexes to your feline half or if that's what post-cryosleep Time Dilation Syndrome looks like. Probably the former; the latter is just a myth.” While the mare continues speaking, I take my first few steps forward, only to stumble over something. “Wait, is that…?" the pony says with a disturbed expression.

I look behind me, curious over what nearly tripped me a second time.

Crushed below the escape pod is a pony, its hind legs almost comically sticking out from a pool of gore.

"Bon Bon, you silly filly… I told you to plant the beacon and step back, not stand there holding it! Or did I? I uh. I think I did, probably, maybe." The scientist scratches her nape awkwardly while sweating bullets.

"Th-this is bad. Look, her ship must be nearby. We might as well put it to use. She'd be perfectly fine with you taking it, I know it! Just k--p hea--ng --"

The tiny screen dies down with a sudden burst of sparks erupting from the visor. Fearing that it might sear my feathers, I quickly remove the helm and throw it away in a panic.

And like that… silence.

Without the mare's constant blabber, I'm finally able to catch a break for the first time since waking up, finally able to have a thought to myself. Taking a deep breath, I begin inspecting my surroundings.

Standing in the middle of a canyon composed mostly of unsuspecting rocks, I realize this planet isn't really too different from Equestria. Either ponykind has really lucked out by finding such a similar, habitable world or I'm witnessing the engineering marvels of earth-pony terraforming. Save for the decidedly weird alien plant life sticking out occasionally and the blue gas giant covering half of the sky, this could almost pass for home.

Wait. Gas giant? Huh... Now THAT is a planet. Countless trims sweep and twirl across its surface, lighting it in every shade of blue, encircled by several rings of white. Where I’m standing now must be more like a tiny moon orbiting around it.

And so, from a lack of having anything better to do--as well as not wanting to be seen anywhere near this potential crime scene--I begin limping my way downhill towards what seems to be the most likely path to the smuggler's ship.

* * * * *

Just, how did I get here? I wonder.

There isn't much I remember prior to waking up. Don’t know if it’s just a casual side effect from spending too long in suspended animation, or perhaps my subconscious blocking horrific memories in an effort to preserve my sanity. Either way, the uncertainty is killing me.

Hell, as far as I know the mare might as well have made the whole thing up. Who's to say I'm not just some abomination the mad scientist scraped together?

I mean, that’s probably not the case because I can remember who I am no problem, or at least who I used to be. But The Harmony, the colony ship. Just what was I thinking when I agreed to come here? Did I even agree to it, or was I abducted?

No matter, I should be able to contact the scientist from the smuggler's ship terminal. I will get some answers from her! Maybe not all of them, but she's the best lead I have.

I try to keep my mind clear for the rest of the way.

* * * * *

I go on, limping forward. I know too well that attempting to fly is not a good idea at the moment for way too many reasons. My wing muscles not moving like I’d like them to being one of said reasons. I can extend and fold them back to my sides just fine, but actually getting airborne seems impossible at the moment. It’s likely one of the many claw-full of symptoms I appear to be suffering from thanks to my long sleep, but I’m hoping more than anything that my lack of flight is only temporary.

It isn’t long before I find myself standing outside the mouth of a small cave. There doesn't seem to be a way around it so with reluctance I head inside.

I hobble a short distance within the dank cave, and soon I come across my first sign of intelligent, living life on the planet: a pony resting within an alcove who doesn’t seem to have noticed my presence yet. He’s an earth pony stallion sporting what appears to be lightweight combat armor with a rusty chrome finish. Painted on its shoulder plates is a round logo that I fail to discern due to the lack of proper lighting. He ushers muffled curses through clenched teeth as he presses on his right leg, blood slowly dripping from a bullet wound. Among other things, a loaded pistol and a sabre lie nearby within his reach.

I'm not too sure how to react. He might as well try to kill me as soon as he notices me, though he doesn't seem to be in better shape than I am. I… shouldn't be afraid of him. If anything, he should be afraid of me.

Something inside me tells me it will be okay.

Some other thing inside me urges me to kill him in cold blood while I still have the chance.

Yet a third thing reminds me of how starved I am. Just how long had I gone without something to eat, relatively speaking? Oh and that blood, the smell…

I stare longingly at his injured leg, drooling with anticipation. This is fine, completely justified. I'm just trying to survive in a foreign world. I have to do it, I-

A powerful force manifests within me, stopping my train of thought fiercely in its tracks. It’s the overwhelming presence of a greater-than-life pegasus. She looks down on my insignificant self with a deadly stare that shatters my will and gazes into my soul. Her massive hoof impacts into my gut relentlessly, kneeling me as I pathetically double over and desperately gasp for air.

BE KIND!

She roars in a positively deafening and terrifying tone, before vanishing back into the aether.

"Ack! Who's there?!" screams the stallion as he tries to reach for his gun before settling for his sabre after a moment of awkward hesitation. My panting must have gave me away.

The last thing I want is for him to come charging towards me wildly swinging that thing, so I let him know I'm here by wheezing out my reply.

"E-Easy, dude. I--" I cough then take in a raspy breath, “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m just a bit lost is all," I manage to say as I wave a talon defensively, still trying to recover from an imaginary gut punch with very unimaginary effects.

As a sign of good faith, I cautiously step into his line of sight. Once he gets an eyeful of me, his face adopts a look of enormous confusion.

"You… don't look like those marauders, or a pony even. Who are you? No, wait. Who's your employer?" questions the pony with an authoritative tone.

"I… My employer?” I balk, cocking my head before shrugging. “I don't know, some mad scientist who shot me from space, maybe?"

"Wh-what?” He remains confused by me, but no longer threatened at least, given how he lowers his weapon. “Have you been doing Dust?... If so, I hope it was Luna's Choice™! Because at Luna's Choice™ we make extra sure to personally hoofpick the best ingredients so you can shoot for the moon when you experience the greatest heights when you get high so you can… get high? No wait, that didn't come out right, damn it!" The stallion seems very disappointed with himself.

"The. Fuck?"

Yes, really. The. Fuck? That felt less like a conversation and more like a botched sales pitch.

"I'm really sorry! I'm kinda new so I'm having a hard time learning the slogans, okay? Please don't tell my supervisor!" the pony begs, suddenly on the verge of tears.

"Dude, relax. I won't…" I say, shaking my head. Feeling the collective disappointment of generations upon generations of griffins before me, I am then compelled to add: "If you give me that gun, plus any food you have on you."

The stallion’s eyes dart back and forth between me and his gun, likely mulling over my sudden proposal. It becomes apparent who he fears the most, because he comes to a decision rather quickly.

"Take them! Take my sabre too! Just please, if you're on your way down, tell my colleagues I'm here and to send help. You can't miss them. They're wearing the same armor as I am." He hastily hands over his weapons plus a couple cans of… Harrots? Am I reading these labels right?

"Is this… is this supposed to be food?" I angrily question, brandishing the cans inches from his face.

"Oh! Of course it's not just any food, it's Luna's Choi-" he starts to blabber again before I clench his annoying muzzle shut with my free talon and press my forehead to his.

"Just. Don't," I tell him in a low, intimidating tone, my eyes glaring daggers at him. He nods slowly and quietly gulps in understanding.

I release the pony and raise a talon in the air, ready to strike down. He flinches for a moment and, with a swift motion, I slice a can cleanly open. The stallion relaxes and stares in awe at the majestic sight, then proceeds to stare in disgust at the less majestic sight of me ravenously wolfing down the entire contents of said can all at once, barely avoiding the tin itself.

Whatever this stuff is, Harrots, it’s some sort of edible mush, but...

"This tastes horrible," I exclaim before reluctantly opening the other one and anxiously gulping it down as well, casually discarding both empty cans on the ground.

Finally, with my belly sated and the stallion’s--scratch that, my weapons in tow, I make my way towards the other end of the cave, the pony left laying there dumbfounded.

* * * * *

Upon leaving the cave, I take a moment to admire my newfound hoard.

The pistol’s design is not unlike its previous owner’s armor. Its rusty chrome finish envelopes a surprisingly lightweight yet blocky build. The firearm has a familiar Equestrian air to it; like an older prototype lazily rebranded for sale in Lunaria, light-years away from any potential lawsuits. A low relief proudly highlights the letters MK2 on the barrel. Engraved in the grip is what must be Luna's Choice™ logo; a young and royalty-free night princess warmly welcoming me into her colony, complete with tuxedo and tophat.

On the other claw, the sabre doesn’t leave much to say. It’s just a plain old boring sabre. The only remarkable thing about it, other than the company logo engraved on the guard, would be a blade detachment mechanism over the mouthpiece for quick replacement.

I holster my weapons and continue onwards.

I barely take five steps before bumping into a couple armored ponies just around the corner.

Their armor isn’t anything like the cave stallion’s, if it can be called armor at all. More like twisted amalgamations of scrap metal welded together, everything from engine parts, pipes, and frying pans. Beneath the shadows cast under their hooded cloaks, their faces lay concealed behind loose wraps of ragged cloth. Slim visors shield their eyes with an eerie glow. Wicked breathers tightly muzzle their… muzzles; they don’t look like they’re to protect against environmental hazards, but are instead for… recreational purposes.

Well shit, they’re both armed and they don’t seem like the friendliest bunch if the combined stinky eye they’re shooting me is anything to go by. They must be the marauders.

"Ew,” blurts the ugly one of the two, “is that what the plague does to ponies around these parts? Get away from me you freak!"

"Kill it. Kill it with fire!" reinforces the uglier one.

Double shit. I knew they looked a little twitchy, but I didn't think they'd turn hostile just by the sight of me.

Both of them unholster their guns and start pointing them in my general direction. Slowly.

...

Okay, uh… Like, very slowly…

It happens again, everything moves slowly save for me. I don’t know if it’s the stress or my adrenaline spiking that triggers the time dilation thing, perhaps a combination of both, but nevertheless I’m thankful for the opportunities it provides me.

My newly acquired gun dances to my claw tips almost on its own in that familiar, elegant and refined fashion that griffin sharpshooters are known for. A firm, lethal grip stands true, awaiting for the final verdict to be cast upon its prey. With seemingly all the time in the world, I take aim and...

What are you doing? a feminine yet raspy voice beckons me.

Surviving, I answer

Do you need to do this to survive? Going by her tone, she does not seem pleased with my reply.

They are going to kill me if I don't.

If you don't what?

If I don't kill them first.

That would be lame.

Okay... Why?

Because then they won't be able to tell anyone about the awesome asskicking you gave them.

Pathetic asskicking? Just look at me, I can barely stand! I'm practically still shaking from the cryosleep fatigue!

You keep telling yourself that.

Well I think I’ve had enough of imaginary voices daring me to do things the suicidal way. You can fuck right off now. Bye.

I let two shots loose, both bullets respectively flying straight through the marauder's skulls, shattering through their feeble makeshift helmets. Luna's Choice, LLC's CEO squeals in joy somewhere far, far away. A shadow looms over a rainbow mare, a mare more disappointed in herself than in her student.

Unlike my would-be assailants, I drop to my knees rather than my side. Time dilation takes its toll; my head spins, a terrible migraine pounds hard inside my skull.

A double shot with pinpoint accuracy like that is something I had trained to do well… yet could only strike true once in a dozen or so times. As inconvenient as the negative side effects could be after extended use, the cryosleep syndrome almost seemed to trivialize such a feat.

Crippling pain aside, that’s… actually pretty awesome.

* * * * *

For several minutes I remain immobile, my gaze raised towards the sky as if pleading. I clutch at my head, wishing that the pain would just stop already. Old King Grover must have been feeling lenient. Sweet, sweet relief is granted moments later, the migraine slowly receding until I’m well enough to stand up again.

After shaking off the last of my head pain, my feline half motions me to approach the fresh marauder corpses with curious trepidation. Their gore-splattered weapons litter the ground, shyly surrounded by the ever growing pools of blood.

Lifeless bodies. Such a sight is all too familiar to me after my years of service in the Equestrian army. The entire experience wasn’t all bad, but the unspeakable horrors I inevitably witnessed during my time had left me, I don’t know… jaded? I just no longer flinch as easy at the ugliest facets of life, especially when it comes to personally ending lives. Most ponies who didn't know me during my younger days would determine that mindset to be the result of my griffin heritage and upbringing.

They couldn't be more mistaken.

Finishing that thought, I lean closer to inspect the armaments of the fallen. While definitely rifle-shaped, their weapons certainly aren't like any conventional firearm I've seen before; they appear rather alien to me. The dim azure glow running along their receivers invites a soft humming tune, not unlike what new-age ponies impose upon any unfortunate souls they would come across. Neon letters decorate the barrel; 'X-TAL 3000,' they proudly announce.

If they weren't severely worn out and on the brim of falling apart, those rifles would look spectacular.

Unable to resist their charm any longer, my sticky little griffon claws pick them up and strap them around my wings.

With my new loot secured in place, I then take one last glance at the fallen marauders. The thought that they might still have something worth rummaging for crosses my mind, but I decide against it. My hibernation suit doesn't have pockets at all, so it isn’t like I have anywhere to stow more goodies.

Ugh, speaking of which. This annoying suit might as well have fused to my body by now. I really need a change of clothes and, if these friendly stiffs are any indication of what the local trends are, perhaps some armor as well. Proper armor, least I become a walking junkyard like the dearly departed here. Maybe there's something I can wear in the smuggler's ship, assuming I can find the thing.

I tug on my suit collar to let some uncomfortably warm air escape, and as I do, something catches my eye.

Well isn’t that convenient… I spot a large ship-shaped hunk of metal in the distance just downhill. By my estimations, it stands about three stories tall and twenty yards long, with four massive turbines near the back; two on each side. A freighter class vessel by the look of it. Not only that, but my impeccable eagle-vision also points out several ponies, more marauders by the deranged look of them, milling around the craft.

That's not all, however; between me and the motley crew are two earth ponies lying in wait behind some rocks, likely pondering what to do about the three maniacs ahead. The signature Luna's Choice™ armor they sport along with their weapons suggest I'm looking at cavecolt's friends.

Remembering that I have a message to deliver, I carefully work my way down the slope of jagged rocks and move to calmly approach them.

* * * * *

It just occurred to me; if these two are anything like their friend in the cave then I’m to expect another sale’s pitch. Right as I finish mentally preparing myself for the incoming spiel, they spot me.

"You!" shouts the stern-looking peach-coated mare at me, just quiet enough to avoid announcing our presence to the psychos below. "Get over here before you blow our cover."

Quickly complying, I duck, bob, and weave behind rocks until I’m immediately next to them.

As I crouch beside her, the mare proceeds to scan me thoroughly with her eyes before interrogating me. "Are you touched in the head? What in Luna's name are you doing prancing around marauder territory in those pajamas?"

"He looks like one of them Uncle Flam's spies," denounces her rust-colored partner.

"Are you with Uncle Flam's?" the mare grills at me. I haven’t the foggiest who that is, so I merely blink and say nothing. Gauging my poker face for a long, uncomfortable moment, the mare then adds, "Because if you are, we'd be in clear violation of company policy." The stallion next to her audibly facehoofs upon hearing this. Despite this, she continues. "Just to make it clear, I’m referring to the policy that states we're not to associate with Uncle Flam's employees…"

"Oh, well in that case I'm not!" I hastily say, pointing a thumb to my chest while my beak wears a smug, sarcastic smile. The mare is visibly flustered upon hearing my very upfront response. Seeing a clear opening, I counter with an authoritative tone, "What are you doing here, though?"

Shaken by my sudden reverse questioning, the mare blabbers. "I--uh, we're here to investigate a report on an… unauthorized landing." She's now trying very hard to avoid eye contact with me.

I peer around the stone slab we’re all hiding behind, take a quick glance at the ship surrounded by armed marauders who are carelessly trying to pick it apart, then back at her before asking, "Wow, and how's that working out for you?"

"O-okay, look," the mare sighs."This is way above our pay grade."

"Yeah, by like three zeros," the stallion follows up. He looks away, though he’s clearly upset. "I'm not about to go in there and get myself killed."

I ponder the situation for a moment, then propose an idea. "Maaaybe you don't have to kill each other?" The ponies look at me skeptically, and thus I elaborate. "Perhaps you can try to talk it out and become friends with them?~" I say with an obnoxious smile, my claws waving in the air and forming a semicircle. A rainbow almost manifests above my head.

The wind picks up and a tumbleweed, composed of all matters of fascinating alien flora might I add, mockingly races past us.

"Yeah…" the stallion eyes me with disdain before making a counter offer. "How about you go talk to them with that silver tongue of yours, eh?"

I nervously look around, my chest fur and feathers puffing up beneath my suit as I say awkwardly, "Why would I do that?" An unconscious gulp runs down my throat. "I have no business with that ship." My wings flutter slightly. "None at all!" I finish with a slightly disproportionate grin.

"How does two-hundred bits sound to you?" The mare produces a bit cartridge and waves it in front of me with a devious smile, her left eyebrow jumping around almost with a life of its own.

Two. Hundred. Bits.

The reality of my current state of bankruptcy sinks in, a primal griffin survival instinct taking over.

"Get rid of those marauders for us and you can have them," she sing-songs while continuing to dangle the cartridge in front of me, my gaze locked on it as if in a trance.

I was enticed, utterly and completely enticed. The dosh, it may as well have been a juicy mouse from how I salivated at the sight of it.

"Give. Please." The barely audible words manage to escape my clenched throat as my clumsy claws fail to reach the cartridge for the uptenth time. Unable to get my claws to muster their usual agility, I pathetically go on. "P-please. Give."

"The marauders, son," instructs the stallion with an amused smile, despite appearing younger than me.

I feel my pupils undilate as I tear my sight away from the bits, then shake my head to clear it.

Okay, marauders… Well, one way or another, I have to get onto that ship, and that means dealing with them. I could go and try talking with them, but I still remember how that went last time with their buddies near the cave.

They don’t seem to have caught on yet that I’m here, which means I have the element of surprise. While they’re not that well armed, they still pose some level of risk that I don’t feel comfortable taking needlessly. There has to be a smarter way to go about this, some way to...

The bit cartridge slides into my peripheral vision, giving me pause. My body shakes, and I can feel my pupils dilating again. I blink, and the next thing I know, I find myself leaping over the rocks we were using as cover…

"F-FINE!" I scream in midair after taking a long wing-assisted jump towards the marauder closest to the ship's boarding ramp.

My accuracy was on point, as I land squarely on his stupid surprised face. He tumbles to his side, and without a pause, I grab his filthy tail and toss him with all my griffin-might into the mare below the starboard. Panicked, she pulls out her gun and aims it in my direction, though it ultimately misses when the weight of a flying stallion knocks her unconscious with a yelp.

Anticipating the other stallion to come running any second, I kick my sabre out of its sheath, sending it spinning into the air. He appears behind me, peeking around the prow with a moutheld gun in tow and ready to fire. The hilt falls on his rump, startling him, shifting his focus away from me for an instant. Before he recovers, my fist buries into his nose, sending him stumbling across the ground.

Suddenly, something like a cold breeze ruffles my feathers, quickly sending shivers up my spine. The feeling slows down, nearly to a halt. My vision somehow shifts, like an out of body experience, and I see myself standing there; narrowly, through a crosshair. A fiery blaze engulfs the scene, abruptly returning my sight back to its rightful place.

As quick as I can, I flip to my side and reach for my pistol. High caliber lead grazes my chest fluff and sinks into the ship's hull, right where my heart used to be. The gun steadies in my claw, my trigger talon pressing in. Into the distance, one hundred yards away and up in the rocks, I barely notice; a fourth marauder, a lookout with a long smoking gun. My talon sinks fiercely into the trigger, sentencing death upon my would-be hunter. His rifle's scope explodes, the projectile rushing into his right eye and bursting through the back of his head. Painted on the rocks behind him is a gruesome splash of gray matter and bloody bony fragments.

The spent casing pings and bounces off the ground. Smoke trails sway from my pistol’s barrel. The wind settles to a deadly calm as time stubbornly resumes its usual pace. A speckle of confetti graciously falls before me, a pink blur flashing in the corner of my eye. Two nearby ponies clad in Luna's Choice™ armor drop their jaws in disbelief, their eyes nearly bulging right out of their sockets.

One dead and three out cold. Sorry Dash, that last one kind of forced my claw, but there’s always next time.

Despite my lackluster performance, I feel the blue pegasus nodding in approval, somewhere within the twisting nether.

I turn around to face the flabbergasted ponies and, with an extended claw I demand, "Bits. Give, please."

* * * * *

The Luna's Choice™ stallion finally comes to his senses and picks up his jaw from the ground, carefully readjusting it in its proper place; metaphorically speaking of course. "That was…" he says, looking at me in the eye. "A hell of a shot, bro! A hell of a shot!" he excitedly concludes.

A bit cartridge flies in my direction, one that I catch with remarkable ease.

"You've earned it!" says the mare. "I got my money's worth and so much more!" She claps eagerly, then asks, "To whom should I submit your performance review, though?"

"Eh," I stop to think for a second, and decide to play along with this delirant game of theirs. Thus I tell them, "I consider myself more of a freelancer, so…"

"WHAT?!" they both exclaim in surprising unison. "You're a dissident?!"

A bit taken off guard by their sudden shift in tone, I carefully ask them, "Is there something wrong with being a freelancer?"

"Yes, like absolutely everything," the mare says in a grave tone.

The air tenses up, though that might just be my lungs. The mare cautiously watches my every movement as she slowly closes her distance, the stallion readies his weapon.

Fearing that this might turn sour, I take a step back and attempt to discreetly reach my claws for my weapon holster. I wasn’t as smooth as I thought I was, though, ‘cause the mare stops in her tracks right as I get a talon on my piece.

"Say,” she starts, fixing me with a deadly stare, “where did you get that pistol?"

"There was this wounded pony in the cave just uphill of here," I begin saying, only to then bite down on my beak.

Shit. I robbed him blind, didn't I?

"Oh?" She seems surprised to hear that, yet presses on. "What about him?"

I start carefully considering my choice of words, making sure not to slip any... undesirable details.

"He... lent me his pistol to fight off a few marauders, then asked me to go find help." Going great so far, I then add, "And by 'help' I suppose he meant you guys."

A breeze blows past, cooling my forehead as it starts to perspire. The two just stare directly at me, my claws primed and ready to unfasten the pistol were that to change. The pause is uncomfortable, but then...

"That idiot!" blurts the stallion, throwing his hooves up. "Of course! Of course he would do this!"

"Oh, he won't hear the end of it when we get back." The mare seems peeved at something other than me, and she visibly relaxes. "It's against company policy to accept help from third parties; we’ve told that to him time and time again by now."

Feeling comfortable enough to move my claw away from my gun, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. "You mean like how you just accepted help from me?" I point out in a cold-blooded fashion.

My words cause them to tense up and their faces to take on exaggerated expressions of terror and realization, absolutely petrifying them.

...

Like, I'm not even sure they're breathing anymore.

…

"Look," I finally speak, hoping for a reaction from them. I don’t get one, so I try again. "I'm going inside the ship, maybe see if there are marauders left. Any objections?" Still, nothing. Their brains were completely shutdown. “Good. Great talk, everybody.”

My claws clink on metal as I ascend the ramp. The goons trying to get into this thing obviously weren’t the smartest bunch, because the hatch opens with little difficulty. With one paw inside the ship’s interior, I then look one last time at the ponies playing statue. "Hey,” I say, pointing a claw at the duo while making a click sound, “do me a favor and keep an eye on the sleeping beauties while I’m gone, eh?"

Their distinctive lack of a reaction suggests our conversation is over. So, without waiting any longer, I head inside.

* * * * *

Welcome aboard The Surly Reveler, the night princess warmly proclaims in plaque form from the far wall across the ship's entrance. Unlike the Luna's Choice™ logos adorning cavecolt's and his company's gear, her majesty here is wearing combat armor while firing the pistols on each of her hooves, forever winking at me whimsically with her right eye.

Actually, The Surly Reveler would have been the vessel's name had someone not gone and lazily crossed out most of the letters using red paint, all with the exception of the four in the middle. Either due to a random act of vandalism, or just terrible taste from the former captain, the ship's name now reads as The Lyre.

Oh, right--gotta put a whole lot of emphasis on former captain. Seeing as they’re now dead by, uh… no actual fault of my own, and I fail to see any other crew members greet me, I invoke the ancient rites of Finder’s Keepers and lay claim on this ship. My first act as captain: make a mental note to restore the sign sometime in the future, since The Surly Reveler is clearly the better name. For now, though, it will do just fine.

The interior of the ship is rather espacious, what with it being meant for transporting goods yet not currently loaded with any cargo as far as I can tell. Facing left from the side entrance and towards the back is an engineering bay, thus I assume the deck awaits me on the other way along the front. Picking up a brisk pace, I begin making my way there when...

"Marauder," a sweet filly's voice loudly echoes through the ship's hull, startling me toward the ceiling not unlike a cat.

As I fumble for my pistol, the filly deafeningly screams again, "Please be informed that this vessel contains no valuable plunder."

After switching the gun’s safety off, I pause. The filly's voice has an uneven cadance to it, kind of… synthesized. Now this is just a hunch, but methinks it's not a real filly after all.

Regaining some confidence from that realization, I continue towards the deck, the gun in my claw leading the way. Upon entering the cabin, the voice roars once more. "Marauder. Unauthorized access to a spacefaring vessel is a grave violation of company policy. Please submit yourself to the corresponding authorities."

Near the navigation terminal, a lavender screen glows with the static portrait of a cute, yet very angry unicorn filly sporting a curly mane. Sensing no immediate danger, I gently approach it. "It's okay, I'm not a marauder," I say, putting my gun away.

Upon hearing that, the screen flickers and the image changes to that of the same filly, only now she appears to be in deep contemplation. A moment later, the picture switches to a raving mad filly and declares, "Initiating self-destruction sequence. Five. Four…"

My wings droop to my sides, terror coursing through my veins. I turn to make a mad dash for the exit, but before I can leave the deck, the cabin's hatch closes right in front of me. Unable to react quickly enough, my beak flattens on its thick metallic surface. It hurts like a mother--

"Three. Farewell."

Ignoring the pain, I turn back and start desperately fiddling with every single button, switch, and knob on the terminal, but none seem to work at all.

"Two. Marauder."

Running out of ideas fast, I throw my full weight at the windshield, though to no avail. The damn thing was too reinforced, and all I succeeded in doing was further hurt myself.

"One..."

I kneel in prayer, and on the verge of tears I commend my soul to King Grover up in Valhalla. I only hope I have enough bits on me to cover the entrance fee...

"Zero."

This is it. I shut my eyes and brace myself for oblivion.

…

"Boom. Crash. Kataplum."

...

W… was that it? Did I explode?

With my claws still clasped tightly, I pry an eye open and dare survey my surroundings. As… as far as I can tell, I’m not dead, and while I’m not ungrateful, I am perplexed.

A few seconds later, the terminal catches my eye. The displayed filly goes from blinking red in a threatening manner, to portraying an amused expression. "You are one funny chicken. Ha. Ha. Ha," she laughs.

Demented little pile of ones and zeros… I want to be mad at her, but honestly I’m more thankful the whole thing was a farce.

"Okay, fine," I shamefully admit to the screen as I stand back up, dusting my feathers off. "You got me good alright."

"I did, did I not?" the filly mockingly concludes. "Ha. Ha."

The previously locked hatch leading out of the cabin hisses open, much to my relief. I guess I was free to go, but leaving wasn’t what I wanted just yet.

Mentally and physically exhausted from my ordeal, I invite myself onto the captain's chair, pop my keister on it and begin slouching. My everything’s feeling rather sore after my failed escape attempts, thus I believe I’m entitled to some much deserved rest. Despite its worn out look, the chair turns out to be rather comfy.

* * * * *

After giving myself a breather, I decide to finally address the screen. "So, are you like an A.I. or something?"

The screen switches to a shocked filly and says, "Negative! I assure you that I objectively am a very real filly." Upon catching my very skeptical glance, she further elaborates. "My designation is Sweetie Belle. I have been delegated the task of being Captain Sweetie Drops' personal assistant and astrogator." A worried filly suddenly appears on the display. "Is by any manner of coincide, the captain travelling with you, chicken?"

"Captain Sweetie Drops?" I stop for a second, trying to put two and two together. "She wouldn't happen to also go by the name of Bon Bon, would she?"

"Yush, chicken!" the filly in the screen practically squeaks. "I have multiple records indicating that an assorted variety of ponies have referred to the captain by said name."

"Oh…" I sigh, struggling to find the right words, "I'm sorry to tell you that she, the captain I mean…" I take a big gulp before mustering the courage to continue. "She… passed away."

The AI doesn't reply immediately, perhaps the information being literally, too much to process.

After a few moments, Sweetie Belle shows her disappointed face and addresses me. "I am grateful to you, chicken, for supplying such vital information to me."

Despite her current picture not showing it, I get the impression the filly is deeply saddened by the news, thus I feel inclined to ask, "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Affirmative." the AI ascertains, her display image returning to a stoic default. "As personal assistant of Captain Sweetie Drops, my sensors were fixated on her at all times while within a reasonable range of operation." The screen flickers slightly, Belle's expression becoming sad once more. "Because of this, I was aware of the current operational status of the Captain before your arrival, chicken."

Wait, could she have possibly seen it was my pod that killed the captain? If so, I hope she doesn't hold a grudge for that.

Why would she then ask me about it, though?

Almost as if reading my mind, the filly answers the question. "However, I required external confirmation in order to disregard a potential sensorial failure. Whether said confirmation was chicken-delivered or not was entirely optional."

Regardless of how tragic the death of the former captain is, we do need to move on. I am a griff on a mission, a mission to get a certain scientist to spill the beans and squeal like a parrot.

"Say, Sweetie…" I begin to say, leaning over the terminal while using my best and most persuasive voice. "Given how I was such good friends with Bon Bon, could I perhaps use the ship's communications system to call a friend or, better yet, maybe take it somewhere for a ride?"

"Negative, I have been programmed to fulfill tasks solely assigned by Captain Sweetie Drops," the filly replies bluntly before putting on a curious face, raised eyebrow and all. "The chicken would have to be Captain Sweetie Drops for me to comply."

Upon hearing that, a spark of ingenious ingenuity goes off in my head. "My, what a coincidence then! My name just happens to be Captain Sweetie Drops as well, pleased to make your acquaintance!"

The AI quickly switches between expressions of shock, disgust, and concern. Finally settling for one of mock, with her tongue sticking out and a scrutinous eye, she says, "Not in this life, chicken."

Well, ain't these programmers getting sharper by the second...

Feeling utterly defeated by a filly for the second consecutive time, I sink further into the captain's chair almost to the point where it’d tip over if it weren’t bolted down. I sigh, look into the ceiling, and tell nopony in particular in a most annoyed and bored tone, "Alright so, what's the standard procedure for ship reassignment in case of captain demisal or whatever?"

An uppity beat plays in the background and, now sporting a rather content look, Sweetie Belle proudly recites, "For captain transfers of any nature, please contact Luna's Choice™ technical support department at 1-800-LUNAS-CHOICE and a certified engineer will assist you at their earliest convenience. Please allow three to eight weeks for your ticket to be processed. A hefty fee of merely twenty thousand bits will be discounted from your account upon transferral. Your only choice. It's Luna's Choice™!”

That last part even comes with the chime of bells and an angelic choir praising the brand's name. But that doesn't stop the feeling of despair that washes over me before the hopelessness of my current situation.

Knowing all too well that I'd never be able to fulfil such requirements, I inquire further. "No offense, but there has got to be another choice, right?"

The AI spends several seconds analysing my question and then finally answers. "I am not authorized to confirm or deny the existence of any other procedures."

Which basically means there are other options. Maybe I could ask the Luna's Choice™ ponies outside.

"Thanks, Sweetie Belle! I'll be right back," I say as I rush my way to the exterior.

"Do not let the hatch hit you on your way out," she attentively dismisses me. "Any damage inflicted to company property, whether directly or indirectly, will be subject to fines disproportionately higher than the damage caused."

Once near the exit, I notice a row of several lockers. Within one of them is a brown sling bag and a black leather jacket, both decorated with the Luna's Choice™ logo. Not willing to put up with my hibernation suit any longer, I toss it aside and get geared up in the newfound goodies. Seems there were valuables worth plundering after all.

* * * * *

Making my way down the boarding ramp, I notice the surviving marauders have been tied up neatly to a nearby alien tree-like thing and their weapons disposed of. The Luna's Choice™ mare stands alone near the prow of the ship as she haphazardly scribbles on a notepad. Her partner is nowhere to be seen.

"...add the two, carry the one…" stern mare mutters to herself. Once she becomes aware of my presence, she points a hoof in my general direction and says, "You! This wouldn't happen to be your ship, would it?"

Well it’s now mine, just not on paper.

"No," I sigh, shaking my head. With a shrug on my shoulders, I then confess, "And not for a lack of trying might I add."

"Really now?" she glares at me. She rips two sheets from her notepad, then waves them in front of my face. Grinning widely, the mare gushes, "Okay, then I'll let you choose between a fine for Unauthorized landing and one for Unauthorized access to a space faring vessel."

Straightfaced, I blink.

You've gotta be shitting me is what I want to scream, but I somehow manage to maintain my composure. Or most of my composure, as a vein bulges over my forehead and my beak contorts into a weird lopsided grin.

A marauder who had been awake this whole time bursts into laughter. "Ahaha! That's what you get for helping those corporate fucks!"

I graciously ignore him and with great confidence I turn to the mare. "This is not my ship, though I am authorized to access it."

"What? How?" she rebukes, utterly conflicted by my unexpected reply.

"That's right!" I affirm. "And if you don't believe me, you can try asking the captain yourself." My perfectly devised ploy makes me laugh on the inside, evilly.

Giving me a curious look, the mare inquires, "You've met the owner of this ship?"

"Most definitely. I just shook her hoof earlier today." I answer truthfully. Whether if she was alive when I did, or if tripping on her dead hoof counts as shaking it, are trivial details.

"Then Unauthorized landing it is," she concludes, slapping the fine on my face.

I quickly scoop the ticket away. At a glance I read something about fifty thousand bits. "Hey, just wait a--"

"Company policy states that in case the perpetrator is unavailable for any reason, the fine can then be inherited by their closest relative," the mare explains, rolling her eyes as if what she said was common knowledge.

Absolutely outraged, I crinkle the fine in my claws and snap at her, "But I'm not related to the captain in any way. We're not family. Hell, we're not even the same species!"

"What does being in their family have to do with anything?” she casually dismisses with a wave of her hoof. “Among those present here, you're the one who's proximity was relatively closest to the ship's owner, therefore making you their closest relative. Your own testimony confirms this, thus the fine is now yours. Enjoy!"

This is insane. This is bonkers! I leer at the fine I’ve crushed into a ball, and my trigger talon starts twitching in ravenous bloodthirst.

Hold up a minute... How are they even supposed to keep track of these fines, particularly if I'm not an employee nor a registered citizen of the colony? Perhaps I'm getting worked up over nothing. I mean, what's the worst thing that could happen? The taxmare chasing me around the galaxy ten years down the line?

What I need now is information... from a sane and civilized pony I can actually have a conversation with.

Having miraculously calmed my nerves, I decide to play along once more. "Alright so, where do I pay this fine?" I ask.

"Ah, I'm so glad you came through, mister," the mare beams. She then points a hoof over yonder. "There's a treasury in the nearby town of Haywater a couple miles north of here. From there you should be able to submit the requested bits and clear up the fine."

Wonderful, more needless monotony. Speaking of which… There’s no way in Tartarus I’m ever going to use that service hotline Sweetie Belle recited. Lucky for me, I think I’ve got an idea on how I can circumvent all that and get what I need. "By the way,” I say, claws in my new jacket’s pockets as I lean back and forth on my paws nonchalantly, “it seems the uh… the transmission pylon of my ship could use some calibrating. I don't suppose I could find a Certified Luna's Choice™ Engineer in this town, could I?"

"So it is your ship now, huh?" the mare says, positively amused. "Sure, we have some of the finest engineers this side of the moon."

"If you say so. I'll be on my way now, thank you." I turn around and head into the direction she pointed out, waving a claw at the mare.

"Goodspeed," she waves back with a smile, before putting on her best sales voice and exclaiming, "And remember: Be with the best, or die like the rest. Luna's Choice™!"

As soon as the mare stops paying me any heed and becomes engrossed in her notepad scribbling again, I shred the ticket to little pieces and scatter it into the wind.

Before I can get very far, one of the tied up marauders, the one whose nose is bleeding profusely because I punched him earlier, whispers to me. "Hey hawk, a word with the damned?"

I’m reluctant, yet for some reason I stop and humor him.

"You're new around here, that much is obvious," he tells me in between breaths. He sounds pretty winded, and I don’t know if its because I broke his breather. "Name's Treasure Hunt, but they just call me Tresh around here. What about you?"

I hesitate for a moment. It dawns on me that I had not told my name to anypony so far. I’m but a random stranger in a foreign land. I could be anyone.

I entertain the thought of a new identity, a better self. However, a wind blows past me, carrying with it the long forgotten scent of apples. Try as I might, I feel compelled to just be honest.

With a heavy knot in my throat, I utter out my name.

"Gallus."

"Gallus, huh?" The outlaw is pleasantly surprised by what he heard. "It's a good name." His gaze drifts to the sky as he takes a deep breath, before adding, "Your parents must've been griffins of culture to have named their son after the fabled Captain of The Royal Canterlot Guard."

His words pierce like daggers. The mere mention of The Royal Guard is enough to send shivers up my spine and make my heart skip a beat, and don’t even get me started about my parents.

"I wouldn't be so bold as to ask you to help us," he continues, lowering his head in contemplation, "after all there are many rival gangs and factions who are far bigger shots than we are."

That comes as a surprise to me. As far as I knew, Chairmare Luna reigned supreme in The Lunar Worlds, her position utterly unchallenged as she ruthlessly crushed any would-be competitors. At least that's what the advertisements back at Equestria would have you believe.

The stallion looks me in the eye and bellows, "But I beg of you. Please, for the love of Celestia, have a little self-worth and do not work for those choice lunatics--or any of the lunar corporations for that matter."

"Are they really that bad?" I say, being wary of anything he might tell me. After all, who knows what sort of fantasy story he'd come up with in order to have me save his tail. "They might be a little obsessive with regulations and policies, sure, but ain't nothing wrong with enforcing a bit of order."

The mare who recently had a pony fall on top of her head joins the conversation. "Just what do you think is gonna happen now, tiger?" she scowls. "That you'll just show up in pisstown and somehow convince an 'engineer' to violate the company policy and hijack that ship for you, all while picking up a few more dozen or so fines yourself and becoming another corporate bitch in the process?"

"The company policies fuckery only gets better, trust me," adds the filth-tailed stallion.

The mare continues passionately, "Or perhaps you could aid a few unfortunate souls who dared to dream of a new Equestria reborn in place of this Celestia forsaken shithole, and become a fucking hero?"

"Listen, buddy, we can help each other," suggests the flying stallion. "One of our ponies back at camp is a very skilled hacker. A fucking genious. She'll crack that astrogator whore in a jiff."

"So what do you say, friend?" finally asks the pony of culture, "Wanna shake things up a bit with the ‘bad’ guys?"

I stand there in astonishment for the longest time. The marauders now appear to me as far more reasonable than the corporate ponies, and yet I had just killed three of them today, albeit in arguable self defense.

Nevertheless, I can't shake the feeling that they're just trying to deceive me and plan to backstab me the first chance they get. They seem like anarchists, the extreme opposite of the corporate ponies.

There has to be a third option, a middle ground between both edges of insanity. However, given how many times I have been in mortal danger since I woke up, I might not live long enough to find it. On top of that, if the mad scientist had any merit to her, the ponies aboard The Harmony could still be saved and were counting on me to come through as soon as possible. I have to act now, I must make a choice.

Oh Grover, why can’t things ever be simple?

* * * * *

Footnote: New Perk Gained

Champion of Harmony - The slumbering spirits of The Harmony root for your cause, occasionally lending you their abilities when you most need them.